53. Sophie
53
Sophie
I was really starting to contemplate dislocating my thumb when Callie’s voice sliced through the stillness, breaking up my spiraling thoughts. “Sophie? Where are you?”
“Back bedroom!” My voice ricocheted off the walls.
She appeared in the doorway, her posture rigid with authority as she took in the scene before her. Her buck-naked best friend was cuffed to a bed with tear-crusted cheeks. Callie’s facade cracked and a burst of laughter tore from her, resonating in the room like a shockwave of relief.
“Jesus, Soph, what the hell happened?” She approached the bed.
“Unlock me first, then I’ll spill.” My tone was sharp.
She swiftly undid the cuff, and I rubbed at the marks on my right wrist, the sensation of freedom sweet for a fleeting moment.
“Maverick’s in danger. That stubborn asshole thought he was playing hero by cuffing me here while he walked straight into a fucking trap.” I scrambled to clothe myself, yanking on garments with jerky movements. Callie watched, her amusement fading into concern, until her eyes caught on the glint of metal on my finger.
“Holy shit, is that—”
“Yes, it’s a ring.” I didn’t have the energy to sugarcoat anything. I was going into lethal mode. “I’m sorry I didn’t call and tell you. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, and things have been… complicated.”
“Complicated doesn’t being to cover this circus, Soph.” Disbelief colored her voice as she waved her arms at our surroundings. “Fill me in quick. Clearly you don’t have much time.”
I put a gun in the holster on my lower back, another in my boot, and a third one tucked under my shirt on my right hip. “Chavez is dead. Full disclosure: I shot him, but the body will never be found.” Turning to assess my best friend’s reaction was a waste of time because she simply nodded. “Maverick’s family helps run a sex trafficking ring, and we’ve been planning to take them down and save the women and children. They caught wind and asked for a meeting with him. Alone.”
She sucked in a breath as we walked out to the living room. I reached down to scratch Wednesday’s head before beelining to the foyer to pick out a set of car keys. “He’s going in blind thinking they’re either going to come to some sort of truce or that he’s going to take as many down as he can.” I gave her the cliff notes, my mind already racing ahead to the next move.
“Do you want backup?”
I looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “God, Callie, no. I’m not dragging you into this. You’ve done enough unlocking me. As always, you’re a life saver. Just keep protecting and serving.” I hesitated. “The way I could never fully do.” My throat clogged with emotion, so I turned back to the keys on the wall before snatching the fob with the sleek black emblem. It was a key to his McLaren, and exactly what I’d need: fast, responsive, and easy to cut through the city.
“Please, please be safe,” she pleaded as we stepped into the hallway.
“Gotta save my dumbass husband first.” I planted a kiss on her cheek as we stepped onto the elevator and selected different floors.
We parted ways when I stepped into my parking garage. I hoped it wasn’t the last time I saw her.
I rolled my shoulders back, taking a deep breath, and compartmentalized the havoc in my brain so I could focus. Clicking the key fob, I followed the beeping to the waiting beast in the parking garage. The McLaren sat there, wicked and badass, calling my name. The Aston Martin was notably gone.
“Let’s raise some hell,” I muttered to myself, sliding into the driver’s seat. It smelled like expensive leather and Maverick, and that reignited my determination. The engine roared to life.
Maverick, baby, you’re not doing this alone. Not now, not ever.