Chapter 68
sixty-eight
JO
I’m lucky Harrison’s passcode was so easy to guess.
It didn’t take a hacker to figure out it was Harlow’s birthday.
It would be a lot more concerning if it wasn’t obvious this was just for phone calls.
I’m guessing everything else is locked down on his computer.
But this phone has the only thing I need.
Maverick’s location. Cal texted it to him, and I snagged the device while everyone was in Jeanne’s shed.
I know Harrison can track it, but even if he can’t, everyone else can get the location from Cal.
I need to get there first. I don’t know if what Jeanne and I think is true and that Maverick is the real target.
All the physical evidence points to the target being me.
I hope it’s me, but my gut is rejecting the idea.
Patrick took the wrong people. If anything happens to Ezra or Maverick .
. . not even Harlow would be able to pick up the broken pieces that would be left behind. Which means I have nothing to lose.
I try again to swallow down the lump in my throat that’s been there since Gavin told me to wait, and I had nothing but horrific thoughts and Jeanne to keep me company.
It stays firmly in place as I merge onto the highway and follow the GPS to what seems like the middle of nowhere.
I have a bad feeling about where it’s taking me, but I don’t overthink it because it’s not like it’s going to stop me.
I push down a little more on the gas, wanting to floor it, but I can’t risk being pulled over. There isn’t time. I might already be out of time.
“Why hasn’t Patrick contacted anyone?” I ask myself out loud.
I’m frustrated because I know I’m missing something.
I slam my fist into the steering wheel, which does absolutely nothing to calm my frustration, and try to think.
I’m being led to the woods, and the kidnapper isn’t making demands.
If this was a case I was doing for the podcast, I would guess that means the victims were dead and I was being brought to a grave.
Not only do I refuse to accept that as a possibility, but it also doesn’t add up.
Patrick somehow got onto the property. Ezra and I were there for over a month without a single problem from him.
Maverick said they never saw him while they were hotel hopping, either.
Then suddenly he pops up like a bad case of herpes and takes my men.
Not me, who was sitting like easy prey in the house.
Me, who is supposed to be his target and the reason Maverick insisted on Ezra hiding me.
It has to be Maverick. I don’t know what Patrick needs him for, but we can figure that out once I have him with me again. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. Maverick wasn’t anywhere for longer than twenty-four hours. Until he was with us.
“Fuck!” I scream. A tear escapes, and I bat it away angrily.
I’m going to find him. I’m going to find him and I’m going to find Ezra.
Patrick is going to pay for every single person he’s hurt.
I glance over to the passenger seat where I have Ezra’s gun.
This is going to end, even if I have to end it myself.