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When I glanced out the window and realized we were just minutes from Simeck’s house, I started to get nervous. I knew I risked angering a dangerous man in a big way by coming to him with this accusation. Whether or not he was involved in Gabriel’s disappearance, this was going to stir up a lot of trouble between us. But if there was even a chance he’d taken Gabriel and was hurting him, I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
I tried to come up with a strategy, but I had very little to work with. I knew I’d be totally outnumbered when I got there, so there was no way to threaten Simeck or pretend to be a tough guy. All I could do was plead with him and offer myself in place of Gabriel. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.
I sent a text to Sawyer, just to see if anything had changed in the last few minutes. He replied right away and told me he’d reached out to everyone he could think of, and no one had heard from Gabriel. He added: Alastair, Zachary, TJ, and I called the local hospitals to make sure he hadn’t been admitted. We also spoke to a friend who’s a police officer. We can’t file a missing-persons report yet, but he’s going to unofficially put the word out and circulate a photo. If Gabriel’s out there somewhere and needs our help, we’ll find him.
It was good to know his friends were taking this seriously and leaving no stone unturned, but so far they’d all come up empty. I sighed as I returned the phone to the pocket of my leather jacket. This terrible plan with Simeck was all systems go, because I just didn’t see any other alternatives. Gabriel wasn’t out there just wandering through the streets for seventeen hours. The only reason he wouldn’t have ended up on a friend’s doorstep by now was if something had happened to him. If I was wrong about Simeck’s involvement, great. But I had to find out, one way or another.
As we approached our destination, apartment buildings gave way to lavish homes. I had to wonder how anyone could afford these multi-million-dollar properties, although it wouldn’t surprise me if most of that exorbitant wealth had come from sources as questionable as Simeck’s.
The moment we turned onto the 400-block of Gephardt, a huge, black SUV pulled out in front of us, blocking the road. The cab driver started to back up, and when a second black SUV boxed us in, he muttered, “What the hell?”
A bunch of men in dark suits climbed out of the SUVs. After a moment, I realized they were waiting for me to get out of the cab. I could only assume these were Simeck’s thugs, and that they’d been watching for me. The only reason they’d do that was if he really had abducted Gabriel and had been waiting for me to take the bait.
I climbed out of the taxi slowly, and when the cab driver rolled down his window and started to ask questions, one of the men handed him a big wad of cash. He took the money and rolled up his window, and when the SUV behind the taxi pulled to the side, the cabbie backed up, then drove off and left me there.
A tall man with dark hair, a short beard, and mirrored sunglasses came up to me and said, “Riley Palma I presume.”
Something wasn’t right about that, and after a moment I realized what it was. “How’d your employer figure out my last name? I made a point of never telling it to Simeck.”
“We don’t work for Simeck, kid. Get in the SUV and I’ll explain everything.”
I hesitated and told him, “You guys look like the men in black, and getting in your vehicle seems like a terrible idea. I feel like you’re going to zap my memory or something.”
The man shot me a look over the top of his sunglasses and said, “Jesus kid, this isn’t a sci fi movie. What do you think, that E.T. is going to show up next? Now get in the SUV before Simeck and his men figure out something’s up and pull out a rocket launcher.”
If these guys worked for Simeck, I was sure they would have picked me up and stuffed me in a trunk by now, so I got in the backseat without further argument. The tall man climbed in after me, and as another guy slid behind the wheel, I asked, “Who are you?”
“Dante Dombruso. We have some mutual friends.”
It took me a few seconds, but all of a sudden I remembered where I’d heard that name and blurted, “Oh, you’re Zan Tillane’s brother-in-law!”
Dante took off his sunglasses and stared at me for a long moment as the SUV pulled onto a side street. Finally, he said, “Technically, yes. That’s just not what people usually say when they meet me.”
