I look down at him one more time, memorize his face in case I need to pick it out of a lineup, and then run back to the truck.
I slide in, slam the door, throw it in gear.
In the rearview, Reyes claws himself upright, sways, pats at his pockets and looks dumbly at the Mustang.
I can’t spare him another thought.I shove Dani’s key fob lower in my pocket.
My phone again.Fuck!
It’s Vinnie.I put it on speaker.
“What the fuck?”he demands.“What’s going on?”
“Reyes,” I huff out.“He was driving Dani’s car.He tried to run me off the road.Correction—he tried to run past me.I clipped him.He’s on foot.I’ve got Dani’s keys.Her car’s dead in the brush.”
“You okay?”His voice tightens.
“I’m fine.”It’s almost true.“He said something.Sounds like Franco’s got something planned.Something…” Fuck.I inhale a deep breath.“It’s not good.I’ve got to hurry.”
“All right.I’ll route the nearest unit to your GPS pip.They’re three out.”
“Tell them to keep it blacked out the last mile.No light.No noise.”
“Done.Hawk?—”
“I’m going,” I say, and drop the phone onto the seat so I don’t have to hear the rest.
I’m the fixer, damn it.The fucking fixer.
Every problem that has come my way, I’ve fixed.
Sometimes my fixes caused more problems, but I fixed those too.
My record is solid.
And Daniela won’t be my first failure.
Not her.Not ever.
