Page 170 of Bossy Hero

Oh, Alan. What have you done?

Chapter29

At last we meet

Big Al

The tension in this SUV is downright suffocating.

Gone is the friendly and cooperative vibe I’ve always had with Chief Bigsby. In its place are silence and sidelong glances of annoyance.

In the thirty-odd minutes we’ve been driving to an unknown destination, he hasn’t spoken a word. Each time I attempt to ask a question, he raises his index finger to his lips and shushes me.

Like I’m a fucking preschooler.

If I’d known he wasn’t going to talk, I’d have stayed in my car and followed him to thissafe placehe insisted we go. Not that he gave me a choice.

If you want to talk, Lancaster, I’ll take you somewhere safe, where we can speak freely. No weapons. No trackers. No phone. No comms. That’s my deal. Take it or leave it. And if I were you, I’d take it, assuming you want to end Lenkov as badly as I do.

Of course I took it.

Even without my weapons, I could fight this fucker off with one hand tied behind my back and my head shoved into a horse trough. The chief is way past his prime. And while I’m not at my fittest, there’s no way he could overpower me.

And besides, my gut is as calm as can be.

However, if I were looking objectively at this situation, I’d be second-guessing the accuracy of my intuition. He’s giving off red flags left and right.

Again, doubt creeps in. The magnitude and length of Tomer’s deceit has wrecked my confidence in reading people.

A little late for doubt, though.

All I can do is be ready for anything. I’m sure my team has realized my phone and locators are in my car several miles behind us. Knowing Tomer and Mia, they’ve entered the police department’s server and are tracking the chief’s vehicle. CPD has tags on their entire fleet, just like Redleg does.

So I’d imagine that Lionheart is nearby or will be soon. Klein’s probably piloting a drone this way to get a visual on me.

Oh shit.

Klein went home early to take care of his mother.

Meh. That’s fine. Tomer or Mia would have thought of it by now, assuming they’re concerned about me. No doubt they are.

For now, there’s nothing wrong other than the chief’s unusually paranoid behavior.

My vision sweeps from left to right, absorbing as much scenery as possible to get my bearings. We’ve traveled farther inland, away from Clearwater. Taking winding back roads, he’s brought us deep into a wooded area. Although I haven’t seen signs, I’m fairly certain we’re north of Oldsmar near the Booker Creek Preserve.

Nice and remote, whichshouldtrigger my gut.

Still nothing.

Bigsby turns left onto a gravel pathway that’s blocked by a closed chain-link gate. Overgrown brush lines both sides. He shifts the gear into park and shoots me a stern glare, which I read asdon’t move.

I hold up my palms in wordless agreement.

He exits, uses a key on a padlock on the gate, then slides it open. After returning to the vehicle, he drives us deep into a densely wooded area. I glance behind us, noting that he didnotclose and lock the gate.

For the first time tonight, my gut fires a warning shot.

Son of a bitch.

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