“Where can we take them?” I asked, my mind racing through the properties Ryker owned. “Not the penthouse. They will look there first.”

“Your place in the city is too obvious too,” Ryker said.

I thought of the old house my grandmother had left me in the hills of northern Illinois, near the Wisconsin border.

It was isolated, surrounded by acres of thick pine trees, and secured with a private gate that didn’t connect to any of the Steel Group’s public listings.

“The country home,” I said. “The one in Galena.”

Ryker looked at me, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the risks.

“It has its own generator and a heavy security system,” I said. “And nobody associates that property with the business.”

“It’s a two-hour drive in this weather,” Marco said, checking his watch. “If the police are already on their way, we won’t make it down the main drive.”

“Then we don’t use the main drive,” Ryker said.

He looked at Marco.

“Take the SUV through the service gate at the back of the estate,” Ryker ordered. “It leads out to the old county road.”