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I’ll go back to the hospital and check there. Maybe Tommy will be there. Maybe I can talk some sense into him. Maybe Eli will be doing better.

Maybe everything can work out after all…

I press my foot on the gas and zip around the annoyingly slow-moving cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. Speed limit is sixty-five, bitches! Can we move a little faster? Am I the only one who needs to save someone’s ass today?

Back in Black by AC/DC blares out from somewhere in the depths of my truck, and I nearly take out a Saab to my right. With a quick turn of my wheel, I cut across two lanes of traffic and screech to a halt on the shoulder of the road. My phone! It’s in here. Somewhere…

The song is on full blast, and I lower my head to try and figure out where it’s coming from. I peer into the little spaces between the seats and see a tiny stream of light coming from the center of my console. I slide my hand as far as it’ll go and it’s not enough. “Goddammit!”

I grab my gym bag and unzip it, feeling around for anything I can use to free the phone. My fingers grip my switchblade and a grin spreads across my face. Fuck, yeah. Cause you never know if you’re gonna need to go head to head with some wise-ass ’roided-up meathead who just lost a benching contest to you.

Yeah, that happened.

I slide the blade into the narrow area between my seat and the console and push the phone out of its hiding place. It gets caught on some chair gears or something, and I grit my teeth. Come on! I’ve been cut off from the world for the past couple of hours, and I’d like to establish contact again. Very fucking badly. A few more seconds and it jumps out, landing on the floor mat at my feet. I scoop up the phone and furrow my brow at the missed call. Unknown number. I roll my eyes. Never fucking answer those. Goddamn telemarketers.

I unlock the phone and see a bunch of texts from Sloane and then read the voicemail transcript. What the—?

Her friend Jules is missing. The cops came around asking her about a guy who looks like Gianni.

Oh, Christ. It doesn’t take much to finish connecting the dots. They’re fucking here. In our backyard. All thoughts of calling Louie Sardisco fly out of my head, and I stab Sloane’s number on the screen.

“Max?” A deep male voice answers as soon as the line rings. “Thank God!”

“Who the hell is this?” I growl.

“This is Pete Camarena. I’ve been trying for half an hour to get into her phone to call you, but I can’t figure out the passcode.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her?” A deep chill settles into my bones. There’d only be one reason why…

“She’s gone, Max. There was a cop here this morning asking her questions about her friend Jules. She never made it home from the benefit the other night. Sloane said she thought she might know who Jules was with, but she couldn’t remember the guy’s last name, said you might know what it is.“ Pete’s voice rises in panic. I’ve never heard the guy shaken up like this. Not even close to this. He’s always so controlled. No bullshit. Lot of grim threats. Barely any smiles. At least, in my own experience.

I guess if something happens to your kid all of that changes.

I throw my truck into drive and press my foot on the gas, zooming back onto the turnpike. “Tell me what happened. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She got a text from Jules when we were about to have lunch. She seemed relieved and ran right outside. But it’s so cold…and they never came in…”

“And?” I need to keep him on track if I’m gonna figure out what the hell happened.

“I went outside after a little while, and there wasn’t anyone there. No car, no people. Nothing. This neighborhood is empty during the day, and whoever was out there just vanished. With my little girl.”

My throat clenches.

Business is never personal, Max. And I don’t think you can separate the two.

Fuck, no! Those bastards made it personal when they kidnapped Sloane.

This is the play. They took my girl to bait me. Again.

All thoughts of Tommy fly out the window. I need a plan. I need guns. And I need backup. I won’t make the same mistake twice with the asshole twins.

Whose blood will be on your hands tonight, Max?

A shiver runs through me despite the heat blasting in my face from the air vents.

“Max,” Pete’s voice cracks. “I-I need your help. The cops won’t do anything until she’s gone for at least twenty-four hours, but I can’t wait that long.” He lets out a shaky sigh. “I know I said a lot of things to you the other day, things I can’t take back, but—”

“Forget it. None of it matters right now. I told you I’d never let anything happen to your daughter, and I meant it. Whoever did this…” My voice trails off, and I swallow hard to regain some degree of composure before I erupt like a fucking volcano. “Will pay,” I hiss, teeth clenched. “And I’ll find her and get her back, safe and sound. I promise you that.”

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