Page 362 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Elliot looked toward the window. Industrial buildings gave way to residential streets. Then trees. The route toward home. His stomach turned. Rebecca. He pictured her in the kitchen that morning carrying coffee and breakfast. Touching his face. Telling him he could come to her. He had lied directly into her eyes less than three hours ago. Now somebody had taken her because of him. The thought sharpened into something violent. Find Saint. Remove Saint. Simple. Ronan squeezed his knee. Elliot looked over.

“No.”

“What?”

“I know that face.”

“You know nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. Ronan leaned closer.

“You promised.”

“I know.”

“Then stop planning.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Elliot laughed once.

“Would you like me to turn off my thoughts?”

“If possible.”

“Helpful.”

Ronan’s hand moved from his knee to his wrist. Pulse. Anchor. Elliot hated that it worked. Vance looked back from the front seat.

“Rebecca’s phone is still active.”

His attention snapped toward her.

“Location?”

“Moving.”

“Where?”

“East.”

“Show me.”

Vance hesitated. Ronan said, “Show him.” She looked between them in the mirror. Then handed the phone back. A map. Red route. Rebecca’s phone moving away from the property. Not fast. Maybe twenty-five miles per hour. Elliot stared.

“Vehicle.”

“Likely.”

“Plate readers?”