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“Take the exit, Quaide,” she said, pointing to the side of the road.
Get to Dove. Find her.
He didn’t even slow when he veered off, hitting the ramp at a high enough speed to rock his passengers in their seats. Clay gripped the armrest but said nothing. If anyone knew how he might be feeling right now, it was Clay.
“Right or left, Lark? Which way we going?”
“Left!”
He gave the intersection a cursory glance before skidding through it at seventy.
“You’re going to kill somebody,” Clay roughed out.
Quaide’s jaw popped from clenching it so hard. “Yeah, I am—whoever took my woman and her sister. When I find them…” He broke off, struggling for long moments while images of inflicting all the torture techniques he’d learned in the military and read about in FBI reports from sick bastards they captured careened through his head.
A small scream escaped Lark. “Oh my god, it’s up! I got them!”
Her revelation almost had him stomping the brakes. “What? How? Where?” His head swirled.
For a moment, his vision blacked, and he was driving blind. Then he realized he needed to connect, to ground himself. No matter how fucking afraid he was that he could lose the woman he loved, he couldn’t help her if he drove off the mountain.
“The toiletries,” Lark said, confusing him more. “Didn’t Clay tell you? He slipped a tracker in Rain’s lipstick that I picked up.”
Her words couldn’t hit him harder if he smashed into a brick wall going eighty.
Another rough bark of laughter burst past his lips. Yeah, it sounded as crazy as he felt.
“Rain must have the lipstick in her pocket. Take the next turn, Quaide. I’ve got a faster route,” Lark spouted.
“Where is she?” Did he want to know? He couldn’t even breathe. What if Dove and Rain had been split up? They didn’t have a trace on Dove.
His guts rolled. Fisting the wheel with both hands, he gnashed his teeth again.
“Just take the turns when I tell you to, Quaide,” Lark said in a depth of tone he’d never heard from the easygoing, bubbly woman before. “Don’t think about anything but getting us to the destination.”
“Yeah, in one piece,” Clay ground out.
His head cleared enough to get a question out. “What kind of tracker did you plant?”
“It’s tech that the WEST team uses. Ari Bloomberg—Well, now she’s Ari Bloomburg-Abel—developed the device. She started with the SeeQ. You may have heard of it.”
He gave a single nod. He had. A miniscule camera made to look like a sequin on a woman’s dress or one she’d accessorize with.
“I’ve heard of it. I just didn’t realize that the brains behind it was married to one of the Abels.” Sentry clearly had more connections than he’d ever imagined when he asked Clay to head it.
Thank god Clay thought ahead and planted that tracker. If he hadn’t, they’d take a wide detour to find the Priester sisters, and that would take far too long.
His mind swirled around the issue at hand while another realization hit on top of it all. Quaide didn’t need to do everything in order for the right things to get done. The members of Sentry were just as capable as he was.
Lark’s instructions broke through again. “A right, then an immediate left.”
His throat closed. “Won’t that take us back to East Canon?”
“Yeah. On the outskirts on the far side.”
He racked his brain for the lay of the land. The city wasn’t large by any means, though it was sprawling. He didn’t have the entirety mapped out in his head yet, but he had a few key landmarks pinned in his mind.
“The only thing I know on that side of town is the—”
