Page 48 of S.O.S. Billboard

Prez growled. “For two more weeks, but apparently today was freshman skip day.” He clearly wasn’t happy about that. “Lakisha, with five of her friends took the T into Boston. They were shopping when Marin spotted a kitten crying in the window of a closed-up van. It being near ninety today, she was determined to rescue it.”

“Don’t tell me. Nobody thought to stop her.” In Billboard’s head, his lessons to Lakisha and Rainie would now include situational-fucking-awareness.

Prez’s face looked like it was carved from stone. “Lakisha suggested to her that it might not be a good idea, but Marin wasn’t having any of it. She waved Lakisha off, closed in on the van, then the back opened up. Within seconds, she’d been grabbed and the driver took off.”

“There’s at least two perps, then,” Billboard grunted. “Driver and snatcher. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Prez answered. “Lakisha was able to give us a plate number.” He shared that info with Billboard, having obviously given it to the rest of the team, previously.

“Did the girls call the police? Have you?” O’Shea added, her attention now hyper-focused.

Del turned around. His phone was at his ear. “I’m trying to get in touch with a friend of ours right now who’s a police detective.”

A few seconds passed. They were all fidgety but quiet, the only noise being Mizzay’s continued computer search.

“Steven,” Del finally clipped. “We have a situation. Prez’s daughter just called in a kidnapping.” He went on to summarize what Billboard had already been told, gave the detective the van’s description and plate number, then listened for a minute before thanking him and hanging up.

Del apprised everyone, immediately. “He’s getting some of his officers on it, but says we have his blessing to mobilize. He’ll let his people know that we’re involved. If—"

“I have something,” Mizzay called out, interrupting. “It’s our suspects, for sure. I hacked into traffic cams in the area, and picked them up. They took Summer Street, then got onto the I-93 ramp, headed south.”

Sarge, also on his laptop, dug into that and came up with some info of his own. “I’m tracking, but I don’t see them further along where I should be seeing them on South Station’s cameras. Wait!” His voice grew excited. “There they are. They took Albany Street, which means—”

“The Mass Pike,” Wiley supplied with a snap of his fingers. “They’re planning to head west on the Pike.”

“Okay everybody. Let’s move.” Del didn’t waste another second.

“I’m coming with you,” O’Shea told Billboard as they all headed for the door.

“Not your jurisdiction,” Billboard grunted. The last thing he needed was his attention being—

“Not whose jurisdiction?” a voice cut in as the door burst open. The Devons’ brothers, Daire and Brent both walked in, armed to the teeth.

“O’Shea,” Billboard grunted. “She’s here visiting, but doesn’t have a license to carry in Massachusetts… Or at least I don’t think she does?” He raised a brow in her direction.

“No. I don’t. But I’m coming for the ride, anyway.” She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest.

“I’m good with that,” Daire responded. “You can ride with us.”

Billboard glowered. “Hell no. She’s with me.”

Brent smirked. “Ah. I see how it is, BB. Damn. It’s too bad there’s no time to yank your chain because you’re a cozy son-of-a-bitch. And you know I don’t have eyes for anyone but my Half-Pint. Still, once we’ve apprehended our kidnappers, I’m going to razz you about your new girlfriend. Deal?”

“Deal,” Billboard responded, but only because he liked the sound of “kidnappers apprehended.”.

Mizzay chimed in. “I’ll keep youze all in the loop with every traffic feed I can find,” she said, the tap-tap-tap of her fingernails, lightning fast.

Without wasting another breath, the team acknowledged her part in the op, then ran to the elevator. It was still open, and they all crammed in. It was a tight fit with eight big guys and O’Shea, but nobody wanted to wait for another car to arrive.

Once in the parking garage, Sarge, Prez, and Daire headed for a black, extended SUV, while Del, Perk, Wiley and Brent went toward another. Billboard steered O’Shea toward his Bronco.

“No black SUV for you?” she asked, trotting to stay next to him as Billboard ate up the pavement underfoot.

“Nope. Sometimes the best way to blend in is to stand out,” he answered. “The Bronco’s turquoise green is impossible to miss, so nobody ever suspects that a vehicle so high profile is part of a pursuit.”

She nodded. “Smart. I guess you’ve done this before.”

“A time or two,” he understated. He’d been able to sneak up on a lot of people with his vintage ride.

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