Tyler said, lowering her field glasses. “We don’t even know that Blake Dominico’s our man.” “That’s why Avery assigned secondary teams to watch over Wright and Packard. But Hannah believes Dominico’s the most likely target. And she’s not wrong that often.” Nash shrugged, dropping the aerial photograph he’d been studying back onto the table. Something about it felt off to him, but staring at it didn’t seem to be helping. They’d been in Manhattan following Dominico for just over twenty-four hours. And in that time they’d agreed that the man’s most vulnerable access point was his apartment. Situated on the southeast corner of a building fronting the East River, it was lined with windows and a wraparound terrace. The setup was perfect, with a variety of places for a seasoned shooter to find concealment. Attempts to convince Dominico to move somewhere safer for the duration of the threat had been met with his signature arrogance and a blunt refusal, the fortitude that had helped make him a first-class negotiator also making him a blind fool.
