Page 40 of Montana Falls
The car swerved smoothly through the narrow streets of a city I never hoped to return to, but prayed that John never left. As my nails dug into my palms, I kept my eyes on the older Leroux boy behind the wheel, needing to see his steady talent to center myself.
To force myself into being confident enough that our plan would truly work.
Lincoln’s hands were steady on the wheel as he navigated the chaos outside. The traffic was dense, headlights flashing, horns blaring, but he was nothing but calm. His hazel eyes were sharp, focused, proving just how much driving was second nature to him. The more I watched, the more I could see just how easily he was weaving between cars, slipping into gaps that didn’t seem to exist, completely in control.
It was almost eerie, how composed he was. His jaw was set, lips tight, and I knew why. This wasn’t just another mission. This was personal.
He was chasing his father’s killer. I knew how that felt. What that did to your focus and your mind.
I knew what it would mean to him.
Misha sat in the seat beside me, his phone glowing bright enough to blind. His fingers moved across the screen, eyes glued to the feed, tracking John’s every move like he had been since his phone first buzzed.
“John’s still outside the hotel,” he muttered, barely looking up. “Hasn’t moved yet.” His voice was low, focused, but I could feel the tension underneath it. Every second that John stayed still meant we had a chance to get to him. But that could change at any moment, and we would not be considering this a win until it was truly over.
Until John was dead and I could breathe a little easier.
I shifted on Price’s lap, my heart pounding in my chest. His arm was wrapped around me, holding me steady, but I could feel the slight tremor in his hand. He wasn’t showing it, but he was worried, too. The weight of everything was hanging over all of us, thickening the air in the car, and I was not the only one who needed things to be over.
Not the only one who wanted this plan to work. Desperately.
“We can’t screw this up,” Logan said from the other side of me, his voice tight. He was staring out the window, jaw clenched hard enough to break. “If we miss him again then-”
“We won’t,” Kody cut in from the front passenger seat, his voice sharp. “We’re not missing him this time because we’re prepared and he’s alone. We planned on what to do, and so long as we do it, we should be fine.” He turned to face me, offering a smile.
His body was tense with adrenaline, dark eyes hard. He had that same fire in his voice that all of us had and that deep desperation burning somewhere inside of him that almost matched Lincoln’s. Because this wasn’t just about catching a criminal. It wasn’t just us hunting a piece of shit human who needed dealing with.
This was about getting justice for Malone. For my mama.
For me.
Lincoln said nothing, but I saw as his hands tightened on the wheel, and he pushed the car a little harder, slipping through a tight turn without even blinking. His focus was absolute, but I could see the same anger burning in his eyes when I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror, and no matter how cool he was on the surface, I knew this was tearing him apart inside.
He was so fucking angry I was almost scared. Not of him. But of what he would do.
He had that look in his eyes that I got, right before I stormed head first into danger, without a single care for the consequences for me.
“I don’t care what it takes,” Misha almost snarled. “We’re getting him tonight. No more games. No more chasing. I’ve found him and he’s not going to run away again.”
Price’s arm tightened around me; his thumb tracing patterns on my skin as he no doubt tried to soothe the storm of emotions building inside my soul. At the same time, he reached out with his free hand, squeezing Misha’s thigh and keeping hold of him.
“We’ll get him. Our plan is smart.” He murmured, his voice soft in my ear. “You guys don’t need to stress. Seriously, gorgeous. It’s all good.”
True to form, he was confident and trying to shield us from all the tension and anger swirling in the car. But I could feel it, all of it. The adrenaline, the fear, the hunger for revenge. It waslike a knot in my stomach, twisting tighter with every second. My nails were almost cutting into my skin and I could not stay still, not for a moment.
“I just want this over,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone. “I want to go home.” My voice broke. “I want to see my daddy’s grave and have a funeral for Mal. I want to be in my bed, in the house that once held people I loved inside of it, and I want… I want to feel like I’m winning.”
“Diamond Grove feels a million miles away right now,” Logan muttered. He was staring out the window still, his leg bouncing restlessly. “But I agree. I would like to be in my room again, and to have something to show we’re doing things right.” He snorted half-heartedly. “The decapitated head you bought Beau was a good start, but I didn’t really feel like we’d won anything then. We were too close to losing you for me to feel happy or even think about what you’d actually accomplished.”
Misha’s phone buzzed again, and he leaned forward, scanning the screen and blessedly saving me from having to even think about what had happened toherand what I’d done in my escape.
“John’s moving,” he said, his voice sharp. “We need to be faster. It looks like he’s around the corner, but he might actually leave – he must have spotted Ivy’s guys or something to spook him a little.”
Lincoln didn’t say a word, but the car surged forward, threading through the busy streets with terrifying precision. He was a ghost behind the wheel, slipping through the London traffic like it didn’t even exist.
He got us to the hotel the twins were staying in, far faster than I had thought he could. I had no doubt there would be a plethora of speeding tickets heading his way, but I would sort it. I would pay anything because he’d got us to where we needed togo, and now the rest of our plan could commence, as we got out the car before it had barely stopped.
The large sliding glass doors slid open the second we raced to them, and we hurried inside, the cold air of the London streets replaced by the warmth and hum of the Meridian Hotel lobby. My heart was still pounding, but I barely noticed it now, as I slid my hand into the back of my black jeans, double checking my gun was still there.
