I pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and pulled them on, flexing my fingers.

“I am going in tonight,” I said.

“I’ll monitor your feed from here,” Marcus said, sitting down at the console. “But if the local police get called, my hands are tied.”

“I don’t need protection,” I said. “I need my daughter.”

I moved toward the exit, my boots silent on the concrete.

I paused by the heavy steel door.

“Keep the comms open,” I told him.

“Always,” Marcus said.

I pulled my dark hood over my head and stepped out into the cold Denver night.

The wind bit at my face as I walked toward the unmarked black SUV parked in the shadows of the warehouse.

The city lights flickered in the distance, a cold grid of concrete and glass.

I got behind the wheel and started the engine, keeping the headlights off until I hit the main road.

I drove slowly through the industrial park, blending into the midnight traffic.

My mind raced with every turn of the road.

Grant had taken my money, my home, and my child.