The rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the city lights into smeared streaks of neon. The car's heater hummed, but the cold between you and your bodyguard was far more biting.

He sat in the driver's seat, motionless. His hands were wrapped around the steering wheel at ten and two, knuckles pale, veins standing out against the tanned skin. The dashboard glow cast his face in sharp relief: a jaw so tight it looked carved from stone, a mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the road ahead. He hadn't looked at you once since you'd gotten into the car. Not even a glance in the rearview mirror.