Chapter 277
Chapter 277:
Crawford’s throat moved. He pulled his eyes from her and let his expression settle back into polite indifference.
“Excellent,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
June moved toward the front door. “The service at this hotel is remarkable. I need to stop by the desk on our way out and leave a tip p>
A microscopic smile touched the corner of Crawford’s mouth. He stood, crossed to the door, and held it open with easy, practiced grace.
He knew perfectly well that her attempt to pay would put the full strength of his lie to the test. And he was more than ready for it.
June stepped through the doorway, already calculating how much cash to leave at the front desk. Before she could take another step down the hallway, Crawford’s voice stopped her.
“Wait,” he said, his tone shifting instantly from polite to tactical.
June turned. Crawford pointed toward the flat screen mounted on the living room wall.
“There’s been a major development,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You need to see this before we leave p>
June’s professional instincts overrode everything else. She walked back into the room and stood beside him, studying the glowing digital map on the screen.
“My tactical team apprehended their lookout before the ambush in the alley even began,” Crawford said, his voice stripped of any human warmth. “They have been working on him, and they just broke him.” He tapped his tablet. The map zoomed out, pulling away from Boston entirely. A red target icon pulsed over a coastal city to the south.
𝖶е 𝘂𝘱𝗱a𝘁𝘦 𝗲𝘃e𝗿𝘆 𝘸𝖾e𝗸 o𝘯
“Rocco was a low-level street feeder,” Crawford continued. “His supplier is a far larger, highly organized syndicate operating out of Providence, Rhode Island p>
June’s eyes narrowed as she read the scrolling data on the screen.
“They’re moving a massive shipment of counterfeit Apex Bio neuro-blockers tonight,” she said aloud, her pulse accelerating.
Crawford nodded. “The drop is at a private yacht club in the Providence port. Security will be military-grade p>
June’s stomach tightened. “Tonight. That gives us less than twenty-four hours. We can’t build a tactical perimeter from scratch in that timeframe p>
Crawford looked down at her, his expression radiating absolute, quiet confidence.
“I already made the call,” he said. “The FBI field office in Rhode Island is fully mobilized. The director owes me a personal favor. They will follow our lead p>
June stared at his face. A cold shiver moved down her spine. He didn’t simply have private contractors at his disposal — he could direct federal law enforcement like a personal strike team. He was a profoundly dangerous ally.
“We change the route,” she said, her voice entirely decisive. “We go to Providence now p>
“My vehicle is already running in the underground garage,” Crawford replied, a faint trace of a smirk touching his lips. “It’s an hour’s drive p>
They moved with perfect, unspoken coordination. June grabbed her encrypted laptop bag from the counter.
“Let’s go,” she said. “But I still need to stop at the front desk first p>