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Max
I slam on the brakes after screeching into the driveway of my house. I jump out of the truck and let myself into the back door. “Dad!” I yell. “Dad!”
I hear the toilet flush, and I roll my eyes. Of course he has to be in the bathroom now.
I don’t wait for his response before I pull out a duffel bag for supplies. The key code for my gun safe bleeps, the door pops open, and I fill the bag with guns and bullets. I take it all. Who the fuck knows what I’ll be walking into?
A few seconds later, when the water finally turns off in the guest bathroom, my dad appears. “Sorry, I’m not moving as fast as I’d like these days.
I look up from my crouched position on the floor. “They have Sloane.”
“Are you sure? How do you—?”
“Look, just trust me, okay? I have to get her back.”
Dad’s face darkens. “Max, this is a bad idea. You can’t do this alone. You got lucky on Thanksgiving because Mikey wanted to keep you alive. But this is a different game. You know that.”
“Look, they’re either gonna sell her or kill her.” My voice shakes. “I can’t let either of those things happen.”
“Do you know where she’s being held? Are there other girls?”
“I have no fucking idea where they are. And yeah, there’s at least one more girl. A friend of hers was snatched, too. Probably used her to bait Sloane.” I rake a hand through my hair and pull on a baseball cap.
Dad sinks to his knees, his face pinched with pain as he nears the floor. “Max,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. He’s slightly out of breath, and one of his hands is glued to his side. “You can’t go alone. Even if you knew where you were going, it’s too dangerous. They’re expecting you to storm in so they can take you out. It’s not a good plan.”
My hands shake as I load one of the guns. “Dad,” I whisper. “I have to save her. Nobody else can do it.”
“I know. But be smart about it. What are you gonna do? Load your arsenal into the truck and just drive around, hoping you pick the right address?”
“What the hell else am I supposed to do? Call Mikey and ask where he’s holding her? For Christ’s sake, Dad!” I throw my hands into the air.
Dad struggles to his feet and straightens out the Yankees’ sweatshirt he’s wearing. “Don’t do this again, Max.”
“You know exactly what Nico will—”
A blaring guitar riff explodes out of my pocket. AC/DC. I grab my phone and click on the incoming call without even registering the name on the screen. “Yeah?”
“You home?”
I swallow a groan. Fucking Rocco. I need him like I need a hole in the head. “Yes.”
“Good. Don’t move. I’ll be there in five.”
“Look, I’m not in the mood to listen to your new sound system right now,” I snap.
“You’re a real dick, ya know that? Just sit tight.”
I click to end the call and pace the room, phone clutched tight in my hand. What the fuck does Rocco want? Now, of all times?
The doorbell jolts me. I crane my neck to check out the living room. Dad is still lying on the couch, eyes closed. He doesn’t stir. I stomp toward the door and fling it open. That was a fast five minutes. Too fast for my taste.
“Rocco, I’m not in the fucking mood—”
Small, strong hands shove me backward into the wall. “Goddammit, Max! You had one last chance to make things right, and you fucked up again!”
I stumble and clap a hand onto the wall to steady myself. “What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the city?”
Shaye gives me the stink eye and pushes past me to get inside. My mother stands behind her, shaking her head. “Shaye! Language!”
