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Finn raced out of the elevator toward the parking lot. He couldn’t believe Gregory had kept him late. He loved Jacob, Vance’s brother, but why Gregory needed Finn there at a meeting with Jacob’s district about a group of carjackers was beyond him. It was only technically FBI because they’d started in South Carolina, moved into Georgia, and were now in Florida, but even then, the reason the team had been asked was because there was a possibility that an enhanced was involved.
The last incident had happened at a stop sign and as the driver had pulled up, a hooded man had simply opened his door. Hislockeddoor. The driver had been yanked from his car before the carjackers had gotten in and driven off, not realizing his three-month-old son was strapped in the back seat. The baby had been dumped at the side of the road a mile farther on, and it was only because a lady was walking her dog on what had been a pretty empty road that the baby had been found quickly and was okay.
Finn shuddered to think what might have happened.
He had so wanted to be home before Talon tonight. He had everything planned. He’d stayed at home this morning to marinate the steaks and prepare the salad, on the pretext of needing to talk to a principal he was helping with three new enhanced kids starting there next semester. He’d hidden the candles along with the wine and the all-important small velvet box. All he needed to do when he got home was put the potatoes in the oven, set the table, and run them a bath.
It was going to be perfect. And nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to go wrong. Finn, of course, had his fingers crossed the whole time he was telling himself that, and was in so much of a hurry that he didn’t even pat his mustang coupe before he got in, which he always did. He’d had a professional wax done on the blue paintwork yesterday and it looked especially good.
Finn drove out of the lot, using his card to get the barrier to lift, and headed for home. Now that he was headed home, nerves kicked in. He knew Talon loved him—absolutely loved him—but he wasn’t sure that translated into actually marrying him. He’d dropped a few hints after their last case when Vance and Sam had kinda sorta promised to get married, and he knew Gael and Jake were talking about it, but Talon had simply shrugged and changed the subject.
Finn slowed at the crossing. Did that mean he didn’t like the idea? Oh crap, what if he was making a huge mistake? He’d even bought the ring, and he had his eye on a nearly identical one for himself with the same beveled edging, but with two small inlaid diamonds. It was very similar to Connie’s which he’d admired what seemed a hundred times lately. Even Connie had taken the hint and practically shoved it under Talon’s nose, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.
Really, some people were simply oblivious.
The traffic edged forward. Leaving later had meant if he didn’t go the back way, he would be stuck in rush hour. In fact, he didn’t come this way often. The fancy neighborhood didn’t like it to be used as a short cut, and there were slow speed zones that made it a nightmare people usually avoided. He normally liked looking at the big houses and expensive cars but today he was on a mission.
Finn slowed as he entered a fifteen-mile-an-hour zone and comforted himself with the fact that fifteen miles an hour was probably faster than the line he would be stuck in right that moment on 275. A small truck pulled out of a side street just in front of him and he had to break a little.
He tapped the steering wheel as the truck slowed to a stop. What if Talon hated the ring? Although, that was easy—they could change it—and he wasn’t worried about the actual jewelry, just the promise it involved. Finn frowned, slightly irritated, as the van’s break lights came on again and both back doors swung open.
Of course, he was a little more than irritated at the masked gunman pointing what looked like a Beretta 92FS tactical pistol at him.
“Keep them fucking hands where I can see them.”
Masked man number two opened his door like it hadn’t been locked.
Finn nearly closed his eyes in horror. If he survived this, Talon was going to kill him.
“Get out.”
Finn glanced to the side. “You really don’t want to do this.”
The man reached in and yanked Finn out of the seat so fast he stumbled, making his jacket flap open to reveal his Smith and Wesson M&P M2.0 compact.
“Gun.” Man number two forced Finn’s arms behind his back just as a third man got out of the van. The third one—also masked—came straight up to Finn and took his gun and his wallet.
“Shit,” he swore as it opened on Finn’s badge. “Fucking feds.” He tossed Finn’s wallet on the ground.
Man number one pushed the gun under Finn’s chin. “Don’t matter. One less fucker on the street.”
Finn heard a car approach—correction, he heard Eminem being blasted loud enough to be heard in space and watched as a teenager drove a Lincoln Navigator toward them, utterly oblivious to the three masked men or the guns. If Finn could have moved to roll his eyes he would have.
“Two for one, Mikey?” man number two crowed.
“No fucking names,” number one—Mikey—snarled out and Finn had a moment of déjà vu. Except he should have been in a bank…
Finn saw the exact moment the teenager realized what was going on as he looked up when he had to slow down for them, just as man number one raised his gun, and in a move worthy of every Die Hard or Lethal Weapon—or even Fast and Furious with how quick the kid threw it into reverse and accelerated backwards—the Navigator disappeared a hundred times faster than it had arrived.
“Fuck.” Mikey fired. Finn was pretty sure he hit a tire, but the car was still going and disappeared around the corner. Finn just hoped the kid was both okay and right now on the phone to the cops.
“Get the car,” Mikey barked out and man number three slid behind the wheel, and the engine died. Completely shut off. Finn tried not to groan audibly. Adam had done this thing to the electrics whereby the computer—Gael’s handiwork—knew if an unauthorized driver got behind the wheel. As soon as the man had touched the steering wheel it had read his partial palm print.
He pressed the start button and a fancy voice—Finn had requested Tom Hiddleston—becauseof course, calmly but authoritatively told the driver he didn’t have the permission of Special Agent Finlay Mayer to drive his vehicle.
Even after two years, being called special agent never got old.
“Get the fuck in and start the fucking car,” Mikey ordered, and the third man got out. With his hands shaking and the gun very firmly pointed at his head, Finn did so. Of course, as soon as he got out it stopped.
