Conrad.

By sunrise, I had a map spread across the cottage table, a cold cup of coffee in my hand and a headache the size of Maelstrom.

“Dry Creek Bridge,” Dean said, tapping the paper. “It's the only road out of Ridgewood that doesn't pass through a town. They'll use it. Griffith hates witnesses.”

“Three vehicles,” Atlas said. “That's what Leah's contact saw. A lead car, a van for Alpha Ace and a trailing car.”

“How many men?”

“Twelve, maybe fifteen.”

I rubbed my ...