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As the Benz zooms down LA’s streets, I flash back to the last two weeks with my girl.
I grab hold of my shirt, fisting it as if it’s enough to contain the pain.
This cannot be happening to me again.
I can’t lose another woman I love.
My phone pings, forcing me back to the moment.
It’s a text from Linc.
Linc: FYI – everything is barricaded. Police everywhere. I had to park a few blocks from the studio and walk the rest of the way. You might have to do the same.
Levi: I left my car at the Quintus Hotel. I’m in a chauffeured car.
Linc: Smart. I’m nearly there. From what I can see, whatever happened wasn’t around our studio.
Levi: Presumably everybody is safe, then?
Linc: No shakeups around here. Okay, I just got to our studio. I’m going inside. Text me when you connect with Jules.
If she’s still alive.
I hate that’s the first thought that surges.
When I don’t answer, he sends another message.
Linc: Text me **when** you connect with Jules.
The addition of stars doesn’t go unnoticed.
I know what he’s saying.
When. Not if.
I repeat the mantra in my head over and over again before responding.
Levi: I will.
Linc: Catch you later.
As I end the call, my eyes lift to the action ahead.
Linc wasn’t joking.
Even with the warning, I’m baffled by what I see. Swirling blue and white lights slice the sky.
What the hell?
An army of police forms a wall, blocking the area. Ambulances are standing by. It’s a chilling scene straight out of a crime drama TV show. There are a few passersby, but not many. It’s no surprise at this late time.
I dial Jules again.
Still nothing.
Shit.
A cop directs the chauffeur, forcing us to make a right.
