He watched her walk toward the car, and for the first time in decades, he felt like he’d done something right in his life.

“Gateway Transit Center?” Marga slanted a skeptical look at Atticus as he pulled the car to a stop in the deserted parking lot across from the MAX rail station.

His shrug made the leather jacket creak. “It’s a good hunting ground.”

At that, she silently raised an eyebrow to emphasize her glare.

“You want me to take pain from someone who deserves it—this is the venue for it. Lots of lowlifes milling about.” Shutting off the engine, he leaned back in the seat and regarded her...