“Not the guy who was stationed outside my room last night? Vince’s guy?”
Mike nods.
Fuck it, the pieces are all starting to fall into place.
“Had four others...fuck...others with him. Called one of themTurk.” Mike blows out a breath as he tries to steady himself. “That mean anything to you?”
Fucking Vince’s guys. Jesus. I should have known he’d try something while I was in town.
“Yeah.” I stand, pushing his hand onto the jacket. “Hold this, keep pressure on the wound. You’re going to be OK. Tell me one thing. Did Atlanta have her purse with her?”
He screws his face up, like the pain is almost too much, his eyes going distant as he tries to think. Then he nods. “Yeah. She had it.”
Thank fuck for that. Her purse might actually be the difference I need.
“Ambulance is literally around the corner,” I tell him. “I need to go.”
“Sure thing. Find your girl and kill those sons of bitches for me.” He grins, a determined look on his face, and I nod as I turn away.
That’s already on the agenda.
***
EMTS ARE RUSHING THROUGHthe lobby as I reach the ground floor, but I ignore them, turning sideways so they don’t see the blood on my shirt. I’m not hurt, and right now I don’t have time for questions. I use a driver when I’m away from home, so as I step outside I’m already scanning the parking lot for any cars that look promising. I may not have ever expected to join my family’s business, but growing up in that world, boosting cars is almost second nature.
Just as I spot an old Honda hatchback that matches my outdated skill set, an SUV comes screeching around the corner, gunning my way, and I tense. If this is more of Vince’s guys come to finish what they started, I’m going to have to tear their limbs off with my bare hands because my gun is upstairs in the suite.
No point trying to hide, so instead I step out into the road, hoping to throw their expectations.
The truck screeches as its brakes are thumped hard, and it skids to a halt in front of me.
And Chris steps out of the driver’s side.
“What the fuck, Leo? I could have killed you!”
He’s sporting a black eye and a lump the size of K2 on his forehead, but otherwise he seems unhurt. And pissed.
“They took Hannah. Fuck, man, they just burst right in and grabbed her out of the bed, didn’t even give her time to get dressed or nothing.” He growls, his hand balling into a fist, which he pummels into the hood of the SUV with a thud. “I’ll fucking... If they’ve hurt her, I’ll cut off their fucking dicks. I’ll... Wait, why are you out here? What the—”
He almost punches me as I grab him by the front of the shirt, already moving towards the truck.
“I’ll drive,” I say, shoving him towards the passenger side. “They’ve got Atlanta, too. I need you to hack whatever fucking traffic cams you need. Find Vince. Find out where they’ve gone. Buy us a few extra minutes he won’t expect. Come on!”
As soon as I’m behind the wheel, instincts take over. I slam the stick into reverse, plow into the side of a parked car, then hit the gas and tear out of the lot.