"Chris," I called, trying to keep my tone soft, if it was capable of such a thing.
"Yeah?" she asked, surprising me a bit at the normal-ness in her tone, no real fear in her voice.
"Do ya know where Lou went? Roan said she took off."
"She got a phone call," she admitted.
"Any idea what about?" At her guarded look, I shrugged. "I'm just worried about her. She's got some shite going on. I want to make sure she ain't going into somethin' unprepared. She didn't text me. Don't want to bother her if she's drivin'."
"It was a short call. But the guy on the other end was loud. He said something about that guy she was looking for. He got a ping, I think that was the word he said, on him."
"Any chance ya caught a location?"
"I don't know if he said the guy was there, but I heard him say Philly."
"Thanks, Chris. Ya are the best."
"Hey, Adler," she called as I made my way toward my bike that had been stashed at the side of the compound for a few days since Lou was a freak about wanting to go everywhere in her car.
"Yeah?" I asked, half turning back.
"Take care of her," she demanded, voice almost a little desperate.
"She takes care of herself," I told her, watching as her chin raised, almost like she wanted the same to be said of her someday. "But I will make sure I am there if she needs me."
I cursed the bike seven ways to fucking Sunday as I drove down toward Philly, finding it impossible even to check my phone to see if Lou had contacted me, let alone try to call her myself.
But I pushed the speed limit, making it into the city in just about an hour and twenty, pulling off into a gas station, reaching for my phone, calling.
And calling.
And fucking calling.
I didn't like this.
She hadn't had time to prep for this.
To get her mind right.
I wasn't even sure she had really given the possibility of taking out her brother any real thought at all.
That was why he was last.
That was why she hadn't been able to find him when he wasn't even that far away, leading me to think she hadn't looked for him at all.
She certainly wasn't ready to go into this half-cocked.
"What?" I heard snapped into my ear, making me jolt, unprepared to hear her actually pick up since I called eight times with no response at all except for the robot voice of her answering machine.
"What? Ya answer with what after taking off without a word to go chase down yer brother?"
"Don't be snapping at me."
"Ya snapped at me first," I reminded her.
"Yes, well, you were being annoying," she informed me, something in her tone making me have to hold back a chuckle.
"Where are ya?"
"I'm pulled off at a rest stop to answer your excessive mother-hen phone calls. Why?"
"Ya can't do this alone."
"I've done all four others alone," she reminded me, stubbornness sneaking into her voice.
"This is different. Ya know it is."
"It's different, but doable. Why don't I hear party noises?" she asked, suspicious, clearly knowing me too well.
"I'm at a gas station in Philly."
"Go home, Adler. We have a dog that needs to be taken care of."
"When we don't show back up, Rey will take her home for us."
"You don't know that."
"I do," I shot back, knowing Rey would lose a limb trying to take care of any sort of defenseless animal.
"I don't want you in on this," she admitted a long moment later.
"Lou, it's yer mission. I'm not in on it. I just want to be there for ya. I think ya are underestimating what ya might go through when it's done. I don't want ya alone for that."
Again, there was a pause.
"Fine, you can stay at the motel. But that's it."
That wasn't it.
Not by a long-shot.
But I was willing to placate her just to get close to her.
"Alright," I agreed. "What motel?"
"I haven't figured that out yet," she admitted. "I was just trying to get into town first."
"Alright. I'll find a place and text ya an address."
Then I did that, sitting in a crummy motel because Lou wanted to be able to park outside the door, have to deal with less surveillance than a typical hotel would have, waiting for her to show up.
She did, thirty minutes later, looking anxious and flustered as she dropped down on the small desk chair.
"Ya alright?"
"I was stuck behind some soccer mom who must have had a broken fucking ankle because that is the only excuse for how reluctant she was to press her foot into the fucking gas pedal. Forty on the parkway. Forty."
"Talk to me, Lou," I half asked, half demanded.
"What do you want to hear?"
"Let's start with what ya know."
"I have a contact who has kept an eye on Monty's name for me. In official channels. On the dark web. There's been nothing. Not in all these years. Today, he pinged."