To his frustration, the blond man's call went unanswered, making him curse under his breath.
If this operation went south, their lives would be on the line.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"Boss, what do we do?
What if that car tailing us earlier was Lucas's?
If it was his, we're all dead meat!"
One of his men blurted out, his face turning ghostly pale.
The blond man shot him a sharp glare, his voice icy.
"Keep your head on.
That was definitely not Lucas's car.
If it were, do you think we'd still be here?
His drivers are ex-military—trained to hunt down targets like us.
We'd have been caught already."
"Then what?
You think the car behind us tipped him off?"
The man lowered his voice, just as his phone rang again—but this time, it wasn't Lucas.
It was Dyson.
His car was closing in on their location.
The blond man's confidence wavered, his mind racing.
