Chapter Twenty-Three
B right flashing lights filled the parking lot when Wrath made it to the diner. He wanted to slam out of his SUV and run, but he made himself slow down and take a breath.
After he parked, he made Rebel put the weapon back in the glove compartment. Once that was locked away, Wrath checked his own weapon, tucked it into the shoulder holster beneath his jacket, and got out of the SUV.
Rebel jumped out when he did and rounded the vehicle to walk beside him toward the diner.
One of the cops broke away from where they were gathered around a waitress and a cook wearing a white apron.
The officer stopped them halfway across the parking lot.
“Diner closed?” Wrath murmured.
“Maybe not,” the cop said. The guy’s badge read “Garcia.”
“What happened?” Wrath asked curiously.
“Where are you coming from?” Garcia said instead of answering.
“Keeler,” Wrath said. It was best to keep to the truth as much as possible.
“That’s a long ways away.” Garcia squinted at him and that was when the guy ran his gaze over him and noticed the bulge of his weapon.
It couldn’t be helped. There was no way he was leaving his fucking weapon in his SUV. But maybe he should have because he could see they were going to be delayed.
“I have a license to carry,” Wrath told the cop whose hand was now resting on the holstered gun at his hip.
Garcia nodded slowly. “I’ll need to see that card and your license.”
Wrath slowly pulled his wallet out of his pocket and took out both cards to hold out to Garcia.
“Smith,” Garcia called, and another cop broke away and approached. “I need you to watch these two while I check his license to carry.”
Smith wasn’t as easygoing as Garcia and immediately pulled his weapon to point it at them.
Wrath held Smith’s eyes across the short distance and after a tense moment, the cop’s eyes flickered down and away. The gun was lowered, but still held with stiff arms, pointed at the ground, ready to come up and fire if need be.
Garcia came back and held out both cards to Wrath. “All right, Mr. King, you’re good to go.”
“Just like that?” Smith said, gripping the weapon tightly.
Garcia placed a hand on Smith’s arm, keeping the gun lowered.
“Just like that,” Garcia said with a cautious smile at Wrath. No way in hell did he want to fuck with this guy. The man was so covert that his boss had called him to tell him to stand the fuck down and to help out Mr. King with whatever he needed. “How can we help you?”
Wrath smirked. His ID was red-flagged, and he could imagine the shit-storm it caused when Garcia ran it through the system.
“Tell me what went down here and then let me do my job,” Wrath suggested.
Fifteen minutes later, Wrath, along with Rebel, came upon the place in the woods where several tire tracks cut grooves in the mud.
Clearly, something had happened in this spot.
“It’s awesome the cops let us go,” Rebel whispered.
Wrath grunted and continued to study the ground. It was apparent by the footprints and muddy tire tracks leading into the woods that someone was being chased.
Garcia had told him that a gang showed up, several customers got away unharmed along with the waitress and cook. Garcia said the waitress told him that they were looking for a young teenager. She said that after the big man with a gun walked outside, the rest of the gang followed.
The big man with the gun Wrath assumed was Rogue. The diner’s surveillance cameras were broken so he could only speculate.
Rogue’s truck hadn’t been in the parking lot of the diner so maybe Rogue had gotten away and doubled back?
That meant that Rogue was on the hunt.
If the gang managed to capture Boston, there would be hell to pay.
Boston was one of their own and Wrath knew that Rogue would do everything in his power to get the boy back, no matter how many dead bodies it took.
“They took someone,” a voice said from behind them.
“Shit!” Rebel squeaked, whirling around like a startled deer.
Wrath lifted his weapon as he turned around but lowered it when he recognized Winter from that day at Justice and Fisher’s place. The man had once again, silently, crept into the vicinity without him noticing.
Currently, Winter was crouched over footprints in the road.
“How do you know?” Wrath walked closer to where Winter had squatted down studying the mud.
Winter pointed to the prints in the wet dirt. “One set is smaller and not as heavily indented. Whoever it was put up a fight.”
“Are you a tracker?” Rebel squinted suspiciously at Winter.
“Among other things,” the man said before standing and brushing his hands together.
In a rain slicker and boots, Winter was dressed for…well, winter. Much more so than him and Rebel. Wrath had managed to scrounge up a coat from Mrs. Jackson’s place, but it didn’t do shit for the rain.
“What did the cops say?” Winter murmured to him.
“They weren’t much help,” Wrath muttered, knowing the guy had been watching them for that amount of time and he hadn’t known it.
“I have a couple of slickers back in my jeep,” Winter offered, looking them over.
He and Rebel were both drenched and he took Winter up on the offer.
“I think we should follow those mud tracks leading deeper into the woods,” Wrath said, pulling on the black slicker over his dark clothing that Winter had handed him.
Rebel followed suit with another dark slicker, and Winter pulled out two black ball caps, handing one to each of them. The guy seemed to think of everything and had come prepared.
“Following the tracks on foot is a good idea,” Winter agreed and locked his jeep.
“Who are you?” Rebel asked. Huddled in the slicker, the boy continued to gaze at the new guy with distrust.
“This is Winter, he works for an organization much like the one I told you about,” Wrath told Rebel—by way of introduction.
“So…like Erebus?” Rebel asked, growing curious.
“Sort of.” Winter smirked and opened the driver’s door of the jeep. “You two should ride with me. The jeep is built for this terrain. Your SUV is not.”
Wrath couldn’t argue with that and within moments, Winter was driving them down the heavily grooved and muddy road.
“Did Real send you?” Wrath asked the guy.
“No, Stone did.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be guarding Stone?”
“Yup.”
“Dave’s going to be pissed,” Wrath said and caught hold of the “oh shit” handle over the door when the jeep hit a pothole.
“I imagine so,” Winter drawled, but the guy didn’t seem to be all that concerned that the former SecDef might just kill him if anything happened to Stone.
“Who’s Stone?” Rebel asked from the back seat.
“He’s Dave’s man,” Wrath said to keep it short and sweet.
“Like, are they together?” Rebel hung over the front passenger seat.
“To my knowledge, no,” Winter said.
“But there’s definitely something there between them,” Wrath pointed out.
“Yes, there is,” Winter agreed, nodding after a moment.
“So why didn’t Real send someone else?” Wrath asked.
“He has his hands full with Azrael, who is…challenging,” Winter muttered.
Wrath snorted. “To say the least.”
“Azrael wanted to come and save Boston himself,” Winter said with an annoyed sounding huff.
“I wouldn’t underestimate that boy,” Wrath cautioned the man.
“Really?” Surprise lit up Winter’s icy blue eyes when they glanced his way.
“Yes, really,” Rebel cut in. “Azrael may be young, but he was one of Solomon’s assassins.”
Winter squeezed the wheel and said nothing, and Wrath was left wondering if Winter had been familiar with Solomon or perhaps the man had only heard of Solomon’s torture and abuse.
The rest of the bumpy ride was in silence, and they came up on Rogue’s truck maybe twenty minutes later.
With his heart in his throat, Wrath combed the area around Rogue’s vehicle, but there was no sign of the man.
“Looks like he had company,” Winter said and pointed to two sets of tracks, one following the other.
He gestured to Winter and then held Rebel back from following too closely.
“Let him do his thing. That way we won’t mess up any tracks,” he murmured, and Rebel agreed with a nod.