I looked back through the tinted rear window.

The medical clinic and the two federal agents faded into the gray Los Angeles haze.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, clutching my stomach as a dull ache spread across my pelvis.

“To a place where we can talk without Julian’s federal friends interfering,” Chloe said.

She pulled her hand out of her pocket, revealing a small black semi-automatic pistol.

She kept it pointed at my lap.

“Where is the ledger, Natalie?” she asked.

“I don’t have it on me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It’s in a secure deposit box.”

“Liar,” she snapped.

She reached over and ripped my leather tote bag from my hands.

She dumped the contents onto the floor of the SUV.

My keys, wallet, makeup, and prenatal vitamins spilled across the dark carpet.

There was no ledger.

Chloe kicked the empty bag aside with her high-heeled boot.

“You’re going to tell me the code to that box, or you’re going to call whoever has it,” she said.

The car turned south, heading toward the industrial docks.