Westenmar.

The moment Stewart and Carl stepped out of the airport, they were greeted by Larson and a handful of men in black suits.

"Mr. Wentworth, Mr. Ferguson would like to see you," Larson announced.

Everyone who had ever dealt with Garry Ferguson knew that Larson was his right- hand man.

Once involved in the underworld, Larson owed Garry his life—a debt that made his loyalty absolute.

Stewart fixed Larson with a cold stare. "Where's Rosita?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wentworth, I can't disclose that." Larson gestured politely toward the waiting car, his tone respectful. "If you have questions, perhaps you could ask Mr. Ferguson in person."

In Westenmar, Garry Ferguson could protect anyone he wished-effortlessly.

Without another word, Stewart climbed into the car.

Half an hour later, the car pulled up in front of a towering office building.

Larson got out, motioning for Stewart to follow him inside.

Carl moved to go with them, but the men in black blocked his path.

"You'll wait here," one of them said.

at the group. Muscle, plain

where business and politics were hopelessly intertwined-Garry Ferguson

knew better than to

Garry-one

up

was

a long corridor, finally stopping outside the last

Garry was inside.

a beat, then opened

Mr. Wentworth is here," Larson said, bowing

"Let him in."

Stewart to enter. "Mr. Wentworth, please."

a sofa, one arm draped around a blonde bombshell, the other holding a cigar. He looked up with casual indifference. "Come on, Attorney Wentworth, make yourself at home. Have a

icy as he crossed the room

cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled a slow, steady stream of smoke. "Cut to the chase, Garry. What will it

"That's a tough question to start with, don't

the patience

gaze was like ice.

her for revenge? For your wife and kid?" Stewart's

Garry released the blonde

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