Chapter 29
LEO
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” I ask, two seconds away from taking my aggression out on Michael.
“She must’ve ditched her cell, hasn’t touched her laptop, and I’m keeping tabs on all of her regular places,” he says, taking a slow drag of a cigarette before tossing it on the pavement and stamping it out. “Nothing so far.”
“If she’s this good at going off the grid, I don’t know how we were tracking her so easily before. It’s almost like she wanted you to find her and now she definitely doesn’t.”
“Or she’s fucking dead in a ditch somewhere,” I say, feeling bile crawl up my throat.
I’d been avoiding that exact thought all afternoon as I continued to call and send her an absurd amount of unanswered text messages.
“Relax,” Dante says, interrupting a conversation no one asked him to be a part of. “She’s crashing at my place. One of my guys just called me.”
“Your place?” I ask, my voice becoming dangerously low. “I thought we agreed that was a bad idea.”
Dante shrugs, making me want to wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze the stupidity out of him.
“I haven’t talked to her yet. She just showed up according to my men,” he says, his dark brown eyes dancing with an unnecessarily cocky energy. “The better question is what did you do?”
I unbutton my sleeves and roughly roll the material up my forearms.
“I don’t have to explain shit to you, Russo,” I spit out.
He has the audacity to smile, practically asking me to break his already crooked nose. “She found out about the suspension, didn’t she? I’m disappointed, DeLuca. I thought you were better at keeping secrets.”
My foot barely moves an inch before Michael’s arm shoots out, blocking my path yet again. I quickly retreat, taking a few deep breaths to block the red hue beginning to cloud my vision.
“We can deal with this later. We need to get in position,” Michael says firmly before turning back to me. “Remember the plan.”
I am so fucking over the plan.
Winning this war would be meaningless without her.
But I know if I drop everything and go to her right now, she’ll tell me to fuck off. Mia won’t speak to me until she’s ready, and begrudgingly I have to be okay with that…even if I think this whole space thing is fucking overrated.
She can ice me out for now.
It won’t change how this ends.
“Fine,” I mumble, making sure my gun is secure and tossing on my jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Police are on their way,” Michael confirms in the earpiece he made me wear like we’re special agents or something.
I nod, knowing he can see me from the roof of the building he’s currently perched on with his scope watching and reporting back.
I bury my hands deeper in my coat, walking casually up the street as the convoy rolls by. There are two trucks and four escorts just like we expected.
Except when the vehicles come to a halt under the overpass a few blocks down, my skin crawls.
Something is off.
“Dante,” I say under my breath, inching my coat collar higher, “give me some good news.”
“Everything looks good on my end. As long as the police show up within the next five minutes, we’re golden.”
Sirens cut through the distance, quelling my anxiety. But that’s short-lived when I notice the men get out of their vehicles looking calm and relaxed.
I exhale softly when I spot the first cruiser turn the corner—and then proceed to choke on that breath when it keeps going.
The second and third cars follow.
“What the actual fuck,” I mutter.
“Everything okay?” Dante asks.
“They’re not stopping,” I observe, watching the convoy carry out their business without hurrying or looking over their shoulder.
“I did my job, DeLuca,” Dante cuts in. “You’re the one that—”
“I swear to God if you finish that sentence, Russo,” I snarl, stomping toward my getaway car parked at the corner. “Someone must’ve intercepted our tip.”
“Let’s call it,” Michael says. “We lost our advantage tonight.”
Right as I’m about to respond, something catches my eye.
A sleek black Escalade across the street roars to life. I quickly duck into my own vehicle to observe without getting caught.
“Are you still there, Leo?” Michael asks, waiting for a response.
“Do you have a twenty on a black Escalade parked near me, Michael?”
It takes him a second to respond, but then he says, “Yeah. Has it been there the whole time?”
“I think so,” I say, watching as it disappears down the street. “I’m following it.”
“Leo—” Michael starts, but before he can finish, I rip the earpiece off and toss it in the passenger seat. And then I turn the ignition, and I’m off.
I keep two car lengths between us. It’s an easy task considering the car doesn’t speed up or slow down. It keeps a normal pace, completely oblivious.
Maybe I’m being paranoid, but something in my gut tells me to keep pressing on the gas.
Minutes fly by, but I keep following closely behind. I shift lanes casually and blend in with the sparse traffic where I can.
At some point, the car finally turns right, pulling off the freeway.
And that’s when things become tedious.
There’s a left turn, a right turn, and another right. The more turns we take, the narrower the streets become.
And then we pass a sign that says, “No Outlet.”
“Fuck,” I curse.
This isn’t a route. It’s a trap.
At some point, I stupidly stopped keeping a distance—too enthralled in my chase. So, when the Escalade comes to an abrupt stop, all I have time to do is swerve.
The passenger door swings open, and a very large man steps out dressed in black with a ski mask covering his face.
“Shit,” I say, yanking the wheel at the last second to avoid him.
My tires screech against the pavement, and before I even realize what’s happening, the front end of my vehicle clips a concrete wall hard enough to rattle my entire body.
And then the airbags detonate, hitting my face with enough brutal force to snap my head back against the seat.
Everything goes white.
Other than the loud whistling noise in my ear, everything is muffled.
For a second, I’m too shocked to feel anything.
The next thing I know, I’m in so much blinding pain I feel like I’m about to throw up.
I quickly shove the deflated airbag away with my uninjured arm, blinking rapidly to clear the cloudiness of my vision.
My head snaps up to search for my perpetrator, but all I see is the back end of the Escalade I’m now regretting following.
They obviously weren’t trying to kill me, so what is this? A warning?
I scramble for my phone, trying to ignore the mind-numbing headache ripping through my skull. My fingers finally wrap around the rectangular object, slipping from the sweat or blood.
My jaw tightens as I press back against the seat, forcing myself to breathe through the pain.
The phone only rings once before Michael picks up. “What the fuck, Leo. What happened?”
“Come get me, Michael. I’ll explain later,” I manage to sputter out. My throat is hoarse, and every movement is another shot of agonizing pain up my side.
“And tell Mia her tantrum is over.”
I close my eyes briefly, picturing her face.
“I need her.”