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97

“Hello,” I answered my phone groggily, still half asleep.

“Ryder, I need your help,” he said and I sat up straight in bed.

“What’s wrong, Wentworth?” I asked him.

“How soon can you be in Chicago?” he asked me and I looked at my watch.

“I can be there by eight thirty,” I said to him.

“I’ll be wa...

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