Chapter 3
THREE
Meat the person inside would be visible at any second . . .
Danny leaned against the side of the truck, blocking Cam’s view. “Hi, gorgeous,” he said, voice loud and clear, flirt turned up to twenty. Decoy was right. “I’m Danny. Here to check you in.”
“I spoke to an Eddie on the phone,” a woman replied, the tone of her voice vaguely familiar even if her accent was not. In any event, not James Daley.
“Eddie’s the co-owner. Also Coast Guard, and he got a callout this morning. I work here, and besides, I’m cuter.”
“Well, aren’t you a charmer?”
“I like to think so.”
Cam couldn’t see Danny’s face, but he was sure the other man had thrown in a wink.
“Just need to see your licenses and permits,” Danny said. “And maybe a menu.”
“Oh sure, just one sec. James, can you grab me a menu?”
“He’s in there,” Nic said, edging forward.
Cam shot out an arm, blocking the door and Nic’s instincts.
Nic’s protective streak was one of the things Cam loved most about him, but even if Nic was an ex-SEAL, he wasn’t the LEO in this relationship.
“Hold,” Cam said. “One, we need the positive ID from Danny.” So far, their lookout was only flashing one finger at his side, not the two that would signal go.
“And two, we’re only here for backup. This is Mel’s takedown.
” And she was already on the move, sneaking two food trucks closer to the target, only one left between her and Meat got his voicemail. He tried Lauren next.
Sure, he could have immediately called this into the local police, and he might have to if Meat & Cake—and Danny—kept breaking traffic laws, but Lauren might be able to finesse that with the locals.
And as a hacker, she could tap into cameras and traffic lights to give them an advantage.
“What’s up?” she answered, and Cam clicked his phone over to speaker, holding it so Nic and Danny could also hear.
“Either Mel’s been kidnapped by a frat boy in a food truck,” Cam said, “or she’s hijacked the food truck.”
“I’m betting the latter.”
“It was a bounty,” Danny said. “He made a break for it but not before Mel got into the—”
Nic slapped the dash, cutting him off. “Danny, that light’s about to turn re—”
Danny screeched through the intersection behind the truck, horns blaring on all sides.
Cam grabbed Nic’s shoulder and slammed his eyes shut.
Nic’s hand came down on top of his, squeezing tight.
Two breaths later, when no jolt off course or crunch of metal followed, and Nic’s hand on top of his tightened, Cam reopened his eyes.
“Holy fuck,” he cursed, digging his fingers into Nic’s shoulder, confirming reality. They were really still there. And gaining on the truck.
“What just happened?” Lauren demanded.
“You don’t want to know,” Nic said.
“First order of business,” Cam interjected. “Tap into the traffic signals on Woodside Road in Redwood City and turn all the southbound lights green. Turn all the other lights red. We need a clear path.”
A flurry of keystrokes echoed over the line, then, through the windshield, Cam watched as all the traffic lights ahead of them turned green.
“Good,” he said. “Now get us some backup. RWCPD units to the 280. Tell them it’s an officer-involved incident.”
“You sure about that?”
“Just do it.” He gave her the details on Danny’s car and the food truck, then hung up. Righting himself, he leaned forward between the seats as they sped toward the Alameda. Past that intersection, it would only be a mile to the 280. “We should have intercepts at the freeway.”
“That enough time for them to get there?” Danny said.
“Let’s fucking hope so.”
Except as they sped across the Alameda and down the winding hill toward the 280, there were no sirens, and as the freeway overpass came into sight, no officers or troopers.
“Fuck, if they get on the freeway…” Cam said.
“They won’t,” Nic said with a shrug.
A shrug. And why the fuck did he sound so calm?
“What do you mean they won’t? Where the fuck are they going?”
“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
“What are you on about?” Danny said as he tailed the truck under the freeway, heading toward Woodside.
Ignoring him, Nic shifted in his seat, turning toward Cam. “What color is that truck, Boston?”
Cam’s gaze automatically flickered past Nic, out the window to the truck in front of them. “Carolina blue.”
“And what’s it serve?”
“Barbecue.”
Why was this starting to feel like an interrogation?
“And who do you know who could drive a food truck like that?”
“Jam—”
Oh, that dirty fucking asshole.
“Exactly,” Nic said as he flopped back in his bucket seat. “What was it you told me was your favorite part of visiting Jamie’s family?”
“His sister’s fucking red velvet cake.” Cam slapped Danny’s arm. “What the fuck is happening here?”
Taking his foot off the gas, Danny slowed the car and relaxed into his seat, catching Cam’s eye in the rearview mirror.
The determined, panicked face Mel’s husband had worn the past fifteen minutes melted away, replaced by the wicked grin Danny wore most often.
“Something that should have happened a long time ago.”