Page 26 of Jack Raider

Jack

Malibu wasnothing like the postcards.

Yeah, there were palm trees and beaches—but under the surface, it was a different world at night. The kind of place where predators wore designer sneakers and kids like Pamela disappeared in plain sight.

Fraiser had contacts in the area—people who kept their ears low to the ground. I’d barely touched down before a burner phone rang in my jacket pocket.

“Jack?” a woman’s voice said. “Name’s Jenna. I run a shelter off Sunset. We had a girl come in last night. Said her name was Emma, but she matched Pamela’s photo. She stayed a few hours, left before sunrise. Looked scared. Real scared.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Last I saw, she was heading toward the beachside motels. Ones that rent by the hour, if you catch my drift.”

I caught it.

“Thanks,” I said. “Text me the address.”

I didn’t wait for backup. I didn’t have time.

I moved through the streets fast, boots hitting the pavement like they still remembered Afghanistan. The air smelled like saltand smoke, and every shadow looked like a threat. I passed two guys loitering near a corner liquor store—watching, waiting. One of them looked at me for too long. I stared back until he flinched and turned away.

I drove to the motels along that route. At the first motel, the clerk didn’t want to talk until I dropped two crisp hundred-dollar bills on the counter.

“She was here,” he said. “Checked in with some guy. Mid-thirties. Shaved head. Drove a black SUV. He didn’t like her talking.”

My jaw tightened. “What room?”

“Two-thirteen. But they left twenty minutes ago. Headed south.”

I didn’t hesitate. I ran and jumped into my rental and scanned the streets.

Three blocks down, a black SUV rolled through a red light like it had somewhere to be and didn’t care who it had to hurt to get there.

I followed.

Careful. Distant. Watching for signs.

And then I saw it—blonde hair in the back seat. A girl turned, face pale, mouth moving like she was praying.

Pamela.

There she is.

I pulled out my phone and called Fraiser.

“Got eyes on her. Black Escalade, heading south on Pacific. She’s in the back.”

“Hold position,” he said. “Team’s en-route.”

“Negative,” I said. “He’s turning into the cliffs. If he disappears up there, we lose her.”

“Jack—”

But I was already cutting the wheel, heart pounding like a war drum.

Some fights you don’t wait for.

Some lives you don’t risk.

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