Page 60 of One Love

Little Demon:What the fuck? Is she okay? What is going on?

Little Demon:Are you out of your fucking mind?

Little Demon:A knife to a gunfight? Fucking cliche, JFC.

Little Demon (forty minutes ago):We’re on Tyler Walker’s private plane. DO NOT FUCKING MOVE from the airport.

Little Demon:I’m serious. Stay put.

That last message makes me pause, she’s worried, but she’s still an hour out and I can’t waste that kind of precious time.

Knowing damn well she has no service up there, I run to the front exit, trying my best to not suffocate from the wall of humidity that attacks my lungs. Fucking hell, how do people breathe in this state? California is hot but at least you can breathe while your skin burns off.

It’s a forty minute drive to Cocoa Beach. I put on a random location for drop off, some Welsh pub catering to the surfers and tourists, as I fix my gaze in the direction of the Gallagher home.

I have no luggage, no bags. Just my knife in a sheath hanging from my belt like I’m about ready to wrestle a fucking alligator. Fitting, I suppose.

When I get to the house, I walk by the drive once and check for cars through the gate. Every doubt I had about flying down here on a whim flies out the window when I spot Ronan’s carstill sitting in the driveway. Fucker is still there. Hopefully he’s staying long enough that when J gets here, she and the Reapers will take him out and we’ll take Hallie home where she belongs.

The end.

Crossing the touristy two-lane street, I’m happy to see that the house shares one side of a wall with a public access to the beach. The greenery has overgrown and curious eyes can’t really see me if I try to scale said wall. Hell, there’s even a tree branch low enough for me to use as a ladder.

This is the universe telling me I have to go inside and make sure Hallie is okay, I’m sure of it.

As I climb the tree, I take one last look around to make sure no one is coming around before I step onto the top of the cement wall then jump down to the grass below. Fuck, I hope there aren’t any snakes or else my Navy Seal days will be over before they even begin.

The entire perimeter of the property is lined with palm trees and the south-facing wall has only one window that looks like a bathroom, judging from the size. I crouch just in case, practically crawling to the back where a screened-in pool is all set up and ready for the summer.

There are definite voices inside but nothing alarming. In my pocket, my phone vibrates and, without making too much noise, I take it out and read J’s message.

Little Demon: Where the fuck are you?

Me: Don’t freak out.

Me: I’m at Hallie’s.

Little Demon: Fuck, D. Just…fuck.

Little Demon:Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be there in thirty minutes.

It’s a forty minute drive but I’m guessing one of the Reapers will deal with the end-of-May traffic by driving like a psycho on hot wheels—understatement, I’m sure. Fingers crossed theydon’t get pulled over because I can’t imagine the number of weapons they’ll have stashed in the trunk.

I’m about to type out a message asking her to be careful when I hear the high-pitched, distinct sound of a scream. Female. Young.

Hallie.

My entire body goes still and my instincts kick in.

Chapter Twenty

J

Two hours earlier

“Turns out Cook was a runner for the Irish for the last twenty years. Never amounted to anything more because of his gambling habit.” Ray “The Stinger” Martini, Marco’s underboss, has been looking into the whole Cook thing since Dmitry and Glitch found the eyeballs in the pantry. “He was a great getaway driver, which is probably why he managed to lose the Reapers’ tails. I found some files on his phone that suggested Ronan wanted a turf war between the Greeks and the Italians, but they were from about eight years ago, before the whole Greek boss being shot by his brother situation.”

There are a few snickers around the dark walnut table because Aleko Kastellanos actually did us a huge favor. Until Zavier came on the scene, the Greeks had been all but invisible since that day.

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