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Sage tried his cellphone again, and it went to voicemail for the fifth time. She was ready to scream. Whistle was a certified pain in her butt. Why, but why, did clients flake out when there was a court deadline? After Tank’s case was dismissed, Sage had taken on other cases for the Squad. Turns out, Tank had put Whistle’s behavior to shame. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Unclenching her balled fists, she took in a breath and exhaled slowly. The kid—and at nineteen years old, he was an immature kid—was totally unreliable. It’d be a miracle if he made it through a year of prospecting and managed to patch into the club.
Sage tapped her manicured fingers on the Motion to Dismiss sitting on her desk, ready to file minus Whistle’s signature. It wouldn’t take but a minute, and still, the man-c
