CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dakota yawned, covering her mouth in the hotel lobby, and watching where Marcus spoke on the phone. A frown curdled his lips. The large man traced a finger along his jaw, shaking his head as he said, "You're sure? Any DNA? No?" He sighed, but nodded, lowering his hand, and tapping his fingers against the marble counter. The receptionist was pushing back through an office door, two key cards in hand.
Marcus lowered his phone, glancing at Dakota. "They don't recognize the substance."
She wrinkled her nose, ignoring the look of curiosity on the face of the clerk.
"What does that mean?" she said.
"They're trying to place where it was made but they don't recognize it. It's not like any material they've encountered before."
Dakota let out a faint sigh. She nodded once. "Gre
