Page 61 of Falcon’s Forever

“I’ve got Hustler with me,” I assure him.

“Check in,” he reminds me.

“Yes, Mother,” I say.

“Fuck you,” Knox replies before ending the call.

Hustler’s expression changes when I give him the address for the second pharmacy.

“That’s close to the warehouse,” he says.

“Six miles,” I confirm.

“Close enough,” Hustler mutters.

"I know." I don't want it any more than he does, but Rachel needs the medication, and this isn't something you delay because a location makes you nervous. I send the route change to the club channel and get Zip's copy, and stay main roads back inside a minute, followed by Vulture's check in after pickup.

The drive's normal right up until it isn't. I clock the black SUV four intersections in, three cars back, and tell myself it's nothing, Chicago's got thousands of them. It takes the same turn I do at the next light.

“You seeing that?” Hustler asks, watching the passenger-side mirror.

“Yeah,” I reply, checking my own.

“Is it the same SUV?” he asks.

“I can’t tell,” I admit.

I don’t have to wait long to find out. The SUV follows us through the next turn.

“Call it in,” I tell Hustler.

He grabs the radio and reports our location. Zip responds immediately.

“Do not engage,” Zip orders through the speaker.

I wasn’t planning to.

At the next stretch of road, the SUV suddenly drops back before turning off entirely. For a moment, I let myself believe that’s the end of it.

Hustler doesn’t relax.

“They’re turning around,” he warns.

The SUV disappears. Neither mirror shows a tail.

“Keep moving,” Zip instructs over the radio.

I drive another mile without seeing anything behind us before Hustler finally releases a breath.

“I hate this shit,” he mutters.

“Good,” I reply.

He turns toward me. “What?”

“If you ever start enjoying being followed, we need to have a different conversation,” I explain.

A minute later, Zip’s voice returns over the radio.