I wait for Payton’s response.
She always texts back. Always right away. Making me feel like she’s just waiting for me. Waiting for any reason to talk to me.
Anxious to see her, I walk to the front door of the penthouse condo, with Rocco following so he can drop me off at the airfield.
The heavy door clicks shut behind him, and I’m still staring at my phone when the elevator doors slide open, and we step in.
We’re just starting our descent when my phone sounds with a notification.
Except it’s not a text.
It’s an alert. The bright red notification sitting at the top of my screen.
Dread fills my stomach as I open it.
“What vehicles do we have out today?” I ask, my voice flat.
Rocco’s at my side, looking at the same thing I am.
The app I have open fills the screen with little squares representing all my vehicles, letting me know their status and positions.
And one of them is gone.
There are no signs of an accident, not a stalled engine, nothing. It’s just fucking gone.
The text I got earlier from Robert flashes in my mind. Okay to go get coffee?
He couldn’t possibly have meant…
My phone vibrates, and I watch as another square goes gray.
Ice fills my lungs, and I tap on the vehicle.
A reading scrolls across my screen. Showing the alerts as they happen.
Windshield penetrated.
It can’t be. That would mean––
Driver’s window penetrated.
Impact detected.
Roll detected.
Rear window penetrated.
I click on the GPS function.
Jesus Christ.
My chest hurts. I have to remind my body to breathe.
It’s close to the house.
It’s too close to the house.
On the map, there’s a red dot where the other vehicle used to be. Used to be. Right next to the current location of the damaged vehicle.
Did someone blow up my fucking car?
I think about the first sensor notification on the second vehicle.
Windshield penetrated.
The bulletproof glass was penetrated.
The walls of the elevator close around me.
And my hands start shaking.
I don’t remember the last time my hands were shaking.
With jerky movements, I swipe to my contacts and dial Payton.
I should call someone else.
Call my men.
I should tell Rocco to call someone.
But something… something deep inside of me is twisting.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And rings.
My free hand is clenched so tightly into a fist my fingers ache.
Another ring.
And as I’m stepping off the elevator, the call is answered.
“Pay––”
But I’m answered with her screams.
Screams that slice through my chest.
Screams that tear apart my soul.
“They got her.” Robert’s choked words mix with the sound of Payton’s terror.
And I feel something I haven’t felt in twenty years.
Fear.
All-consuming fear.
“Who?” I demand.
Robert coughs.
“WHO?” My shout reverberates through the lobby.
“Mik––” He coughs again. “It was Mikhail’s men.”
Then I hear something worse than Payton’s screams for help.
I don’t hear them.
I don’t hear anything.
And I start sprinting.
Tires screech through the line, the same time I hear Robert drop the phone as he gasps for breath.
Crashing onto the street, I hang up and dial another number.
Hang on, Baby.
I’ll get you.
King answers. “Hey.”
“Get everyone.”
“What hap––”
“EVERYONE!”
