Luther POVThe night was quiet, or at least it had been. I sat across from Marylin in the lounge, the faint glow of amber whiskey in her glass catching the dim chandelier light. She crossed her legs deliberately, always too calculated with her movements.

She was talking about something about the deal in Barcelona, about how she thought I should push harder on the Conti cartel’s weak link. I nodded absently, my mind only half in the conversation.

The sharp creak of the door cut through her ...