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“A ton of it. The dad’s an investor, and the mom’s a top Realtor.”
The money hadn’t found its way down to William. He took a turn, moving away from the beach. He drove past the highway entrance, which I thought he’d take to get home. Instead, he kept driving, going in the opposite direction.
“Anything else?”
The streets were emptying of people as we got farther from the beach. The partygoers were replaced by dodgy-looking guys still wearing shades even though the streetlamp they were standing under wasn’t working. The neighborhood continued to get more and more questionable, and it happened quickly.
“I’m looking… oh! No, wait. False alarm.”
William made another turn. We were deep into Downtown Miami now, still moving away from the beach.
“I don’t know, Beck. This guy’s squeaky clean. All he’s got is a six-year-old speeding ticket and a couple of—”
“How old?”
“Six years. He got it on… he was ticketed on the seventeenth of July at 12:46 a.m.”
My pulse exploded. “Anya, where’d he get this ticket?”
Anya clicked a few more keys on the other side of the phone. By now, the streets were nearly empty. Large warehouses and auto shops bordered the dark street we drove down. There were two cars between me and William.
“He got the ticket on Fourth and Bird.”
“Fucking hell.”
“What?”
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned paper pale. “That’s two streets down from where Oliver and Derrick were attacked. That was the same time. Ten minutes after the attack. Jesus Christ.”
Will. He was the second masked assailant. He must have connected with Juan through Mario, and then those two fucking monsters went out to ruin a life.
But why? Why had he done it?
And tonight? Fuck, I wish I could turn back time only so I could strangle the fucker in my doorway. He hurt Oliver, my Oliver, and he had come to my front door looking like a distressed sewer rat, thinking it would make him seem more innocent in the long run. He must have thought it would keep the target off him, keep him living in the shadows.
But no. Not tonight, not this time. He managed to keep his hands clean for six years. He stayed in Oliver’s orbit, watching him for all those years, and it was all going to come to an end tonight.
Both of the cars in front of me decided to switch lanes at the same time. Like a fucked-up choreographed dance, the two buffers between Will and I moved to the side. I drove directly underneath a flashing streetlight, and I looked straight ahead, connecting directly with Will’s eyes in the mirror.
All hell broke loose.
He slammed on the gas, his Toyota burning rubber as the wheels desperately tried to grab traction.
“Shit. Call you back!” I hung up with Anya and gave chase, driving through the cloud of dark smoke Will left behind him as he tore down the other quiet street, the sound of both our engines battling echoed off the tall warehouse walls.
Wind hammered against the windshield. I didn’t have a professional race car, but my BMW wasn’t a pony either. I began catching up to Will. His car struggled as he pushed it to its limits, rocketing past a red light.
What in the fucking world was he thinking? The stakes must have been astronomically high for him to be trying to get away from me like this.
The road, a pothole-covered mess, wasn’t kind to my wheels. It felt like I was in a washing machine as I raced down the street, my car’s accelerometer reading eighty-five.
This was dangerous. This was stupid.
But this was Oliver who needed my help. I’d dive into an active volcano if I was told it would be the only way to save him.
Will started slowing before taking a sudden turn, his wheels screeching in protest. I followed, my car almost tilted on its side. I kept control and brought the floating wheels back onto the ground, my car giving a sharp jolt.
And then another jolt.
