“How the hell do you lose your target?” The question came out with enough incredulity to make Theodore feel like a complete i***t.
Theodore clenched his jaw, a dull ache blooming in his teeth. His steps were heavy as he made his way to his apartment door. He waited until he was inside, the door slammed shut before he gritted out, “Mirabelle isn’t my target, you i***t. Fowler is.”
His contact snorted, making Theodore wish he could slam the phone into the wall. Unfortunately, for his contact, he never used the burner. That was for someone else. No. For his contact, he used his regular phone because the man was smart enough to hack and fabricate links that didn’t exist. He was also able to find anyone. Just as soon as he stopped trying to piss Theodore off.
“I am beginning to think you ar
