KIEL'S POINT OF VIEW
It was almost 9:30 when I parked the car.
I hadn't planned to find him.
But sometimes, when you let your instincts take the wheel, you end up exactly where you need to be.
Luke was sitting at one of the patio tables outside that overpriced wine bar off Malvar Street. Same place he used to take meetings when he wanted to pretend he wasn't the snake behind the curtain.
Still sharp-dressed. Still overconfident. He had a tablet in one hand and an untouched drink in front of him.
I stood there for a second.
Watching.
My pulse tapped at the inside of my neck.
Then I walked over.
He looked up. And smiled.
Like he already knew I'd come.
"Kiel," he said smoothly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. "Didn't expect to see you here."
I sat across from him without asking. "Cut the small talk."
His eyebrows rose, but he didn't flinch. "Alright then. Let's get to it."
"You saw my son last weekend," I said. "At the park."
