The burner phone vibrated against the mahogany nightstand.
Ryan didn't jerk awake. His eyes opened, pitch-black and instantly focused in the shadowed bedroom.
He eased his weight off the mattress, ensuring the heavy silk sheets remained tucked around Zara's bare shoulders. She murmured something incoherent in her sleep, her body rolling over to chase the residual heat he left behind.
He picked up the device. The screen cast a pale, sickly light across his bruised ribs.
He didn't need to read a text. He pressed a single key and held the phone to his ear.
"Position," Ryan commanded. The word scraped his dry throat, low and abrasive.
"The ghost cleared customs at Teterboro twenty minutes ago," Hayes's Midwestern drawl came through the speaker, tight with operational adrenaline. "Ghost passport. Clean biometric bypass. He didn't head for the city, sir. He crossed the state line."
