Page 57 of Beneath the Surface

“Quinn—”

“Can we just go? Please?”

Dax wanted to argue. Wanted to pull her into his arms and apologize for being an idiot. But Quinn was already at the door, knocking to signal they were done.

The customer service woman processed their exit. Within ten minutes, they were back outside, walking toward the parking garage.

Dax kept scanning for threats. The businessman from earlier was gone. Everything looked normal.

But the hair on the back of his neck was standing up.

“Stay close,” he murmured.

“I thought you wanted distance,” Quinn shot back.

Before Dax could respond, he saw him. A man in a suit. Mid-forties, unremarkable. Standing by a newspaper stand, pretending to read. He looked up as they passed, his eyes lingering too long on Quinn.

Then he pulled out his phone.

“Move. Now.” Dax grabbed Quinn’s arm, ignoring the way she tensed up at his touch, and pulled her into a coffee shop.

“What—”

“Someone’s watching. Don’t look back.” His hand was firm on her back, guiding her. “We’re being followed.”

Quinn went pale but didn’t argue. Just followed his lead through the shop.

“Excuse me, you can’t—” a barista started to protest.

“Police emergency. We need your back exit.”

The barista pointed to a door marked “Employees Only.” Dax pushed through it, Quinn right behind him.

Behind them, the bell jangled. Someone had followed them inside.

“Go,” Dax urged, his hand on her back—this time the touch was protective, necessary. “Fire exit at the end.”

Quinn ran. Dax pulled out his phone, sending a speech text to Harper. “Compromised in Seattle. Bank of the Northwest. Need extraction.”

They burst through the fire exit into an alley. Dax grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled her left.

“Where are we going?” Quinn gasped, panic in her voice.

“Somewhere public.” His phone buzzed. Harper.On it. FBI agents 15 minutes out. Pike Place Market. Crowds.

“This way.” Dax steered them toward the market, his hand still holding hers. Quinn’s fingers were ice cold.

They ducked into the crowded market. Tourists and locals, vendors calling out prices. Dax pulled Quinn close and they wove through the crowd.

“Do you see him?” Quinn whispered, her body pressed against his side.

Dax scanned over her head. Caught a glimpse of the suit in the crowd. “Yeah. But he won’t make a move here. Too many witnesses.”

They kept moving. Fifteen minutes felt like an hour. Dax kept Quinn close, his arm around her shoulders now—strictly professional, he told himself. Just keeping her safe.

Quinn didn’t pull away. She was shaking, adrenaline crashing.

Finally, two FBI agents approached. Harper had sent her Seattle team.