The SUV looks the same at a glance, but there’s something dark on the concrete near the rear tire.
A glistening trail.
Gasoline.
My blood goes cold.
“Where is she?” I whisper.
Then I see her.
Barbara stands on the other side of the SUV, just past the pool of fuel—the line of it leads from the open gas cap to a spot near the front wheel where a red plastic can sits on its side. Her dress is streaked with dirt, her hair messy from fingers that weren’t mine. Her hands are shaking, held up slightly to either side.
And there’s a man behind her.
Adrian Wen Zhao looks unbothered and put together in an expensive suit, with perfect hair, his face calm, and a gun pressed to the side of Barbara’s head.
In his other hand, there’s a lighter, his thumb resting on the wheel.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Caleb’s already moving sideways, slow and controlled, trying to angle for a flank. I lift a hand: wait. Not yet.
Zhao smiles when he sees us. Small. Pleased. Like we’re right where he wants us.
“Mr. Kane,” he calls across the garage. His voice carries easily in the echoing space, smooth and unhurried. “You’ve been causing me a lot of trouble.”
“Get in line,” I call back, forcing my voice into a lazy drawl. Every instinct I have is screaming to rush him, but I’ll only get Barbara killed that way. “You crashed my date, man. That’s rude.”
His fingers flex on the gun. “You cost me several shipments,” he says conversationally. “And good men. Half my partners think I’m losing my touch.”
“Seems like a you problem,” I say. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my skull, but I keep my tone light. “Maybe business would be better if you stopped making enemies.”
His eyes harden. “You took a lot from me,” he says. “Now I take something from you.”
His hand tightens in Barbara’s hair. She winces, jaw clenching. Her eyes find mine across the distance. There’s so much fear there, but also stubborn, beautiful fury.
“No,” I say, voice dropping. “You don’t.”
Caleb is a few steps to my left now, angling toward a column. He meets my gaze for half a second. Knows what I’m thinking. Mouths: Two shots.
One for the lighter. One for the head.
Ballsy. Precise. Risky as hell with Barbara that close.
I lift my index finger on my left hand, pointing up. He’ll know what I mean.
“I suggest you put the gun down,” Caleb calls out loud, voice flat. “ESU is en route. You’re not walking out of here.”
Zhao doesn’t even glance at him. “ESU will arrive when I am gone,” he says. “And all they will find is a burned-out car and bodies.”
He lifts the lighter. His thumb flicks. Flame blossoms, small and bright in the dim garage. He holds it out slightly, over the trailing sheen of fuel.
My field of vision narrows to that tiny, dancing point.
“Ethan,” Barbara whispers, voice cracking.
That’s what decides it.
