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Down.
I take the steps fast down one flight and burst into an underground parking garage. An underground parking garage with only two cars in it. One is Dolly. This whole block, over thirty floors, and just two cars? Two cars and no way through the metal gates keeping them retained. “Shit.” I hear Otto’s charging feet getting louder, closer, and all out of options, I get behind the door, plastering my back to the wall, holding my breath. The moment he bulldozes through, I slip around the wood and sprint back up the stairs to the lobby, my heart smashing dangerously, my speed fueled only by adrenalin.
I make it out onto the street. It’s the middle of the day. Busy. People everywhere. My adrenalin subsides and makes way for panic. “No,” I say sternly, looking back over my shoulder, seeing Otto run back into the lobby. His eyes fall onto me. His furious expression is the biggest kick up the ass I need to get me moving.
I jog to the end of the street and dip around the corner, crossing the road and disappearing down an alley. My cell is ringing off the hook.
And something comes to me.
I stop and look down at the screen.
And turn it off.
52
JAMES
“I lost her,” Otto pants down the line. “I’m getting too old to play chase.”
“Fuck!” I swing around and smash my fist into the brick wall, splitting my knuckles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Watch Butler.” I shake my hand off and cut the call, pulling up my tracking app. She’s turned off her phone. The rage. Oh, the fucking rage. It puts all other previous fury to shame. I stuff my phone in my back pocket and go to the boot of my car as I yank my gloves on and pull my balaclava over my head, before swiping up the rifle. I load it as I pace through the derelict factory, my jaw going into spasm, my pores sweating . . . fear. It’s fear.
I lost her. Otto fucking lost her. Impossible. Laughable. But I’m not laughing. I’m in no mood for the intended, stealth approach. These men will die. Now. No mercy. I kick the iron door open, aim and fire, putting a bullet clean between the eyes of my first target. It’s not the slow, painful death I had planned. But it’ll have to do. I have more important matters to deal with. I move my aim, passing the down-and-out who’s in the corner, his arms in the air, one of my Marlboros hanging off his bottom lip. Three more goons scramble for cover, their amateur shooting skills having them blasting bullets randomly.
Fucking Russian dickheads.
I pick each of them off one by one without moving a foot.
And I am done.
I turn and walk away, pulling my balaclava off to get some air. I need air. I need to breathe.
But that won’t happen until Beau is back with me.
53
BEAU
By the time the cab has battled its way through midday traffic, an hour has passed and I’m late. I see Nath sitting outside, focused on his phone. I pay the driver and hurry to him. “Hey,” I puff, still short of breath after dodging Otto. I take a seat and Nath exhales heavily.
“I was worried.” He flashes his cell. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I’m a half hour late,” I point out, raising an eyebrow as I collect the water he’s ordered me, absolutely parched. I swig and gasp. “You went radio silent for hours.”
“What’s going on?” He looks across the table at me in alarm as I guzzle the rest of the water down ravenously. “Did you run here?”
I shake my head, still drinking, unable to get enough.
“And are your clothes wet?” His eyes drop down my shirt. “Your buttons are undone.”
I place the bottle on the table and start fastening the buttons I missed in my haste, awkwardly trying to sort myself out with one hand. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
Doubtful eyes fall to the sling holding up my newly broken wrist.
“Don’t even think what I think you’re thinking,” I warn.
“What am I thinking?” he fires, settling back in his chair.
“Tell me what you found out about Mom.”
“Nothing.”
I recoil. “Then why the hell am I here?” I look past Nath when someone approaches behind him, and my heart starts to beat double time. “What’s Ollie doing here, Nath?” I ask, my hackles rising, every hair standing on end. I don’t like the look on either of their faces.
“Did he do that to you, Beau?” Nath asks, and it all becomes clear. Is that what his call was all about? He left me thinking, hoping, praying he’d found out something about Mom’s car being at the dealership, and the whole fucking time he was planning an intervention? All I need is for Dad, Lawrence, and Dexter to show up, and we’ll have a full house.
