Chapter 16: Getting Their Story Straight

Behind the wheel of the big black SUV as it barreled down I-5, Slater slid a sidelong glance at Wilcox who was seated in the passenger seat. The other man was eyeing him cautiously.

“What?!” Slater growled.

“What what?”

“You’re looking at me like I stepped in dog shit or something.” Irritation painted his already ruddy face a deeper shade of red.

Wilcox shrugged. “I’m just wondering what you’re going to tell Sorkin about this clusterfuck you created.”

Slater glared out the windshield and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw shifting in annoyance. The truth was, he had no idea what he would tell their boss beyond what he’d already told him.

When they’d arrived in San Francisco, they’d been missing one red-haired freak. Before heading to the Four Seasons, they’d made a little detour, with Slater calling ahead as Wilcox navigated the congested city streets.

“Why didn’t Mr. Sorkin tell me himself?” the voice on the other end of the line had wondered.