Micah sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. His fingers tapped restlessly against the glossy surface of the meeting room table, each click of his nail echoing in the empty hotel suite.
He leaned back in the chair and stared at the hotel wall clock. The minute hand had barely moved since the last time he checked. Fantastic. Time really was crawling like a snail.
After meeting the Du Ponts earlier, Micah had lost every bit of enthusiasm he might have had for playing around with Silas.
