Page 170 of Severed Rivalry
“Yeah?”
“Something’s going down. Open the tracking app.”
“Fuck. Tell me where, brother.”
“You go to the stationary bubble. It hasn’t moved. I’m following the one that’s moving.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know shit. But I know Sariah wouldn’t leave Renée alone. I’m betting it’s a ditched bag.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
“I’m over this. This has to end.”
“Or?”
“There is noor. This ends. If not today, then tomorrow. If I have to go to South Dakota to do it, so be it.”
“Don’t be rash. And check in.” He disconnects.
I run for my truck, slapping the phone onto the holder recklessly and having to do it a second time when it tumbles. I lose precious seconds. Seconds I cannot afford, before throwing the car into reverse and flying down my street.
I pause long enough to see the trajectory and find myself on I-25 heading north to make up time. Thanking heaven above that it’s only summer tourists and not yet football traffic, I weave in and out of lanes until the downtown bottleneck has me punching my steering wheel.
The bubble is ahead of me, northbound on the interstate. Out of reach, but also stuck.
Now I get to find a needle in a haystack since we’re all stuck.
When my phone rings, filling the cab, I jump. I’ve been so focused that the disruption jars me.
“Yeah.”
“You were right,” Liam begins. “Sariah’s purse is in her car. The driver’s side door is open in invitation. She’s lucky it wasn’t stolen.”
Lucky. Lucky? Only in that two moving targets would’ve split our focus.
A whistle rends the truck.
“What?”
“Been talking to you for several moments. Where’d you go?”
“I’m here. Sorry. What did you say?”
“The owners say Sariah was shoved in a black SUV. She screamed for Renée to run, and she did back into the salon but was chased by a man who dragged her out kicking and screaming.”
My blood boils.
“She was put in a different SUV that tore out of the lot heading east.”
Fuck.
“I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.” The words are weary and heavy and are pulled from me with great pain.
“We end this.”
