The light turned red as his back tires crossed the line and he wove between two trucks to speed away. The road curved, the landscape flat enough for Linc to follow the Camaro for a few seconds before it disappeared into the horizon of fuzzy headlights and streetlamps. Linc hit the brakes and rolled to a stop under the red glow.
“Damn it!” Seth swore, smacking the dashboard. “Slippery bastard!”
“It’s not over yet,” Linc murmured between gritted teeth.
He gripped the wheel tightly, his foot itching to move from brake to gas. His dark eyes burned as he stared at the light. Traffic crossed. Left arrow, crossing. He held his breath.
Green light.
Close on the tail of the car in front of him, Linc teased the gas until they passed through the intersection and traffic spread out. The patrol car zoomed between a sedan and a pickup truck, drifted behind an eighteen-wheeler, then zipped into the left lane to round a corner.
“He’s up there! Just took that road toward downtown,” Seth pointed out.
Linc’s gaze flicked up ahead to the turn lane, where he caught the gleam of moonlight off the tail end of Ricky’s Camaro. He was speeding up a ramp, far exceeding the suggested thirty miles an hour posted. Linc zipped around a slow-moving Oldsmobile, the siren still blaring overhead.
“Call for backup,” Linc ordered as he leaned on the gas. “Block him in.”
Seth was on the phone within seconds. “Officers Malone and Granger here! We have eyes on suspect Ricky Hanes. He’s driving an orange Camaro, maybe a 2010. Will update you on license plate momentarily…”
Linc swerved to avoid a stripped tire in the road and pounded the gas, closing in on Ricky even as the Chevrolet wove left and right, switching lanes without signal or logic.
“He’s panicking,” Linc muttered.
“Backup requested, location to be determined,” Seth was barking into the phone. “We’re at the intersection of…”
In Linc’s mind, a flicker of déjà vu occurred to him. And it wasn’t because he’d been on multiple car chases in his career, even though he definitely had. This area felt warm to him, familiar in a strange way. It wasn’t his own neighborhood, though.
“Put officers at the exits; we’re trying to block him in. He’s most likely trying to get the hell out of town,” Seth explained.
Linc shook his head and interrupted with a sharp, “No! He isn’t leaving town just yet. He has a stop to make.”
Seth frowned at him. “What?”
“Look where we are,” Linc replied. “He’s not leaving town. He’s going to Miami Blues.”
The blond cop’s eyes went wide as he looked around. “Shit,” he muttered. Then, into the phone he said, “We have a location.”
As Seth explained the situation to the dispatch officer with a surprising level of calm, Linc was laser-focused on staying close to Ricky. His eyes locked on the Camaro’s tail lights. The siren’s wail distorted over the broken airwaves, the night wind buffeting them and whipping at their traction. The clogged streets of Miami did their best to clear a path for the patrol car, but Linc could not resort to Ricky’s level of recklessness. The sleazy suspect was cutting it close at every turn as he darted in and out of traffic, indiscriminate of lanes or laws. Linc kept as close as he could, but he couldn’t reach him, only stay near enough to watch his next move. But they were clearly a few steps behind, and they were getting close to Miami Blues now. Linc’s heart pounded like mad.
“Why is he going there?” he growled.
“She’s there,” Seth choked out, trying and failing to sound calm. But his voice broke, betraying the true worry he was feeling. Ricky didn’t seem like an especially dangerous guy, unless you counted his reckless driving. But then again, they’d both been on the force long enough to see how unhinged someone could become when they felt cornered. And Ricky was most definitely being backed into a corner right now, even if he was in the lead. He had to know the cops were hot on his tail. He could hear the sirens screaming, if nothing else. And yet, he still barreled toward the club.
“It has to be something important. Unfinished business, maybe? Hostage situation?” Seth shot out, racking his brain.
His phone rang and he snatched it to his ear. “Malone—what do you have?” There was a second’s pause, then he said, “Maria?”
Linc looked over at him for a moment, then back at the road. They were just minutes from Miami Blues now.
“Maria—slow down! Hang on, going to speaker phone,” said Seth. He held out the phone in his palm and Maria’s voice came trilling through, a little shakily.
“Your witness, Mr. Fuller, is here at the station with me,” she said.
“Brian?” Linc said.
“Yes, he’s right here, oh! Okay—” There was a clattering noise, then a male voice took over the line.
“Listen—he has a stash!” Brian shouted. “Right under everyone’s noses!”