Thirty minutes later.
After dropping the stolen car a block away and some walking, Tristan and Martinez stopped in a dimly lit alleyway in front of a back door of a department store. The store was already closed, and there were no signs of anyone being inside.
"Why are we in this place, Mr. Hayes?" Martinez asked.
Tristan typed and sent a text message, then put away his phone and looked up at him.
"That's the best hiding place for you for the next while. It's not associated with me, so you should be in the clear. You and my own people."
"This store?" Martinez frowned.
Tristan smiled.
"It's owned by locals who agreed to do me this favor. Which is all you need to know for now, Martinez. Rest, heal. I have urgent things to take care of besides helping you out. In the meantime, think long and hard how YOU can help me back."
