How many more have to die here?
“B-Team Leader, we have a situation with A-Team,” Jeremy said, his voice not as calm as before.
“We’ve got one here, too. The package is missing,” Shane said, wondering how much worse this night could go.
“No, it’s not. The package is with . . . you-know-who at A-Team’s location.”
“Jesus,” Shane said under his breath. Not again. Not again. He couldn’t lose her again. “She is their top priority. Their only priority, Eileen. Make that clear.”
White-hot rage clawing down his spine, Shane looked at Easy. “Take it down,” Shane said. Gun drawn, Shane walked out into the central hallway and checked the other basement rooms. All empty. “How much time do you need?”
Easy’s smile was nearly sinister as he pulled a pouch from inside his coat. “I came prepared, dawg. Five minutes to place the materials, then we can remote this motherfucker.” He pulled small blocks of the off-white plastic explosive C-4 out and secured them to load-bearing beams, then inserted the blast caps.
“Roger that,” Shane said, keeping lookout while Easy did his thing. When they were done downstairs, they returned to the party room and quietly spread the word to the Ravens, who lacked earpieces. Prepare to haul ass out the front door so they’d mix in with the crowd.
Jeremy’s voice spilled into Shane’s earpiece. “Shots fired at Location 1, but A-Team Leader secured the delivery items. Says the package got away, but they are in pursuit.”
Shane wanted to destroy something with his bare hands. Whatever had been exchanged via the delivery meant absolutely nothing to him at this moment. Jenna was all that mattered.
“We do this now,” Shane growled to Easy, then he stalked over to the wall by the door and pulled the fire alarm. The siren screeched at an ear-shattering decibel level. “Everyone out,” Shane said, shooing the dancers out and accounting for all his men before he left the room.
The chaos of the main club was audible over the alarms—running feet, yelling, screams.
“Everyone out,” Shane yelled in the main club. “Fire!” He was glad to see no one lingering behind. Customers, dancers, waitresses—everyone bailed. Their group brought up the rear, then they were out in the night air, making a beeline for their cars and bikes as the club’s bouncers urged people to the other side of the street.
Having planned to transport Jenna once they rescued her, Shane, Easy, and Marz had parked near the back door. Weaving through scattered groups of people, they wound their way to the road and waited for the bikes to congregate behind them.
When the twelfth Harley joined them, Shane hit the accelerator; and then he looked to Easy.
Watching over his shoulder to make sure the bikers were clear, Easy waited . . . waited . . . then finally pressed a button on a cell phone Shane hadn’t seen before. And the world in his rearview mirror exploded with a deafening series of crashes and bright orange fireballs that shook the ground beneath his truck.
But Shane couldn’t take any pleasure in the destruction of that godforsaken hellhole. Not yet. Because he still hadn’t done his job. He still hadn’t saved Jenna.
SARA SAT IN a metal folding chair trying to avoid asking Jeremy for information he didn’t have. He’d been honest with her at every step, including the one where Jenna had shown up where she wasn’t supposed to be—with Bruno at the garage. And now it appeared Nick and the Ravens with him were chasing them through the streets of Baltimore.
Which meant Shane couldn’t save her. And the uncertainty and fear were eating Sara up inside and making it hard to sit still.
Just as she inhaled to ask if Jeremy was hearing anything, Sara’s cell phone rang. Shane! Her gaze dropped to the screen. Instead, it read, “Bruno Ashe.” She gasped and showed Becca, and the other woman’s face went pale with alarm.
“Bruno’s calling Sara,” Becca called across the room.
“B-Team Leader, we have another situation,” Jeremy said. “Bad guy just called your girl.” Jeremy listened and nodded. “He says to answer. Come over here and put him on speaker so Shane can hear.”
Sara rushed across the room and swiped the answer button before Bruno hung up. “Bruno?” she answered.
“Oh, if it isn’t the lying, scheming bitch I’ve been taking care of the past four years while she stabs me in the back.”
“I don’t . . . what are—”
“I have Jenna, but I’d rather have you. Meet me, and I’ll let her go. If you don’t, I’ll slit her throat and drop her body in the harbor.”
Head reeling, Sara asked, “Um, where? Where should we meet?” A few beats of silence passed. “Where, Bruno?”
Something roared in the background, like the sound of an engine. “I don’t fucking know,” he snapped. “I need to think of a place.”
Pressing his hand against his earpiece, Jeremy furiously scribbled on a sheet of paper and held it up. Sara nodded.
A screech. The sound of a blaring horn.
What the hell was Bruno doing? “Where, damnit? If you don’t have a place, just pick me up where I am.” Never before would she have spoken to him that way, but Jenna’s life was on the line, and Sara was out of patience.
Bruno almost growled. “Where the hell are you, you little bitch?” Sara read off the address Jeremy had written though she had no idea where that was. “If you aren’t there, Crystal, you’ve just killed your sister. Fifteen minutes. Don’t keep me fucking waiting. And don’t even think of not coming alone.” The line went dead.
“Take over, Charlie,” Jeremy said. “Sara, you have to come with me.”
Leaning against Becca and trying not to fall apart, Sara looked at Jeremy. “What? Why?”
“It’s not far. Shane will be there any minute. He thinks—”
Sara’s phone rang again. Shane. She picked up right away, walking with Jeremy even as she was confused about what they were doing.
“Sweetness, I need your help.” His voice rushed and deadly serious, Shane explained the plan. It boiled down to her as bait. “If there were any other way—”
“I’m glad to help, Shane. If there’s something I can do, I want to. I trust you to keep me safe. I’m with Jeremy. We’re going right now,” she said. The line disconnected.
Outside the gym, she dashed down the steps right on Jeremy’s heels. They crossed the lot to a dark green Jeep Wrangler. Soon they were racing through the run-down industrial neighborhood surrounding Hard Ink, but only went about eight blocks when Jeremy parked on the edge of the street along a mostly-fenced-in dirt lot belonging to some sort of supply company, by the battered sign on the fence. Train tracks ran through one section of the fence and into the yard. A row of mostly boarded row houses ran down the opposite side of the street. “What is this place?” she asked.
“A place for this asshole who harassed you to die. Nothing more, nothing less,” Jeremy said, reaching across the seat and squeezing her hand.
The rumble of motorcycles sounded out from nearby. Sara twisted in her seat and saw the first of the bikes come into view behind Shane’s big truck.
Sara climbed out of the Jeep and ran around the hood just in time to jump into Shane’s arms. They held each other for mere moments, when Shane put her down. “Gimme a second,” he said, then he turned to the Ravens. “Everyone out of sight. Half of you this way, half of you that,” he said, pointing down the street. “You all are the net in case the spider somehow crawls through us. No matter what, he does not leave the radius you establish.”
Agreements rang out over the sound of the motors, then all twelve bikes disappeared. Soon thereafter, the sound of their engine noises faded away, too.