Jared sat alone in a sticky booth in the back corner of the dive bar where he could watch the entrance, swirling the lukewarm beer left in his bottle.

He had stopped at this rundown watering hole on the outskirts of the city solely because it was the kind of shady joint where everyone minded their own business. No working cameras, curious patrons or staff, nor unnecessary conversations.

The pain in his jaw and split knuckles reminded him of the attack he had survived at his previous motel the ...