Page 55 of Wicked Love
“And this is the Lotus Blossom Spa at Trinity and Highland?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Can I get your name for—”
I hung up, leaving the tip anonymous. A sweat had broken out over my back, but Slade patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Nice work.”
We’d decided that sending the police to some of the businesses in Doom’s Seed’s empire would add to the chaos and make him more likely to pull all his men out of their siege. But that was only one small part of the plan.
As for the other part…
Beckett hurried back to the van just as I was pushing my phone into my pocket. He hopped inside, slightly windblown, yanked the door shut, and pushed a button on the small rectangular device he was holding.
I knew what was coming, but that didn’t stop me from flinching at the boom that reverberated through the air. A surge of fire exploded through a car parked across the street from the office complex. The roof burst open; the windows shattered. My ears rang with the noise.
“Too bad for the owner of that car,” I had to say.
Beckett glanced at me with a mild expression. “His insurance will cover it. And anyway, I’ve met the guy who owns it, and he’s an asshole.”
Logan barked a laugh. “All’s well that ends well, huh?”
“It’s not over yet.”
We sat, tensed, as the fire roared inside the car. All across the city, Beckett’s people had staged similar explosions near the businesses under siege. They were being timed so that the cops weren’t stretched too thin, but close together enough to make it clear there was an urgent problem.
Within minutes, incoming sirens wailed. Three police cars sped onto the scene. They parked around the burning car and leapt out.
As they stalked around the car and then started checking the nearby stores for signs of the perpetrator, a couple of figures emerged from the side door of the office complex. We’d specifically parked where we could keep watch, because Beckett had said that was where the attackers had broken into the building.
The two men eyed the cops and jerked back when one of the officers started striding in the direction of the office complex. They ducked back inside. My pulse stuttered with the fear that they’d hide out inside and go unnoticed. But seconds later, about a dozen figures hustled out and rushed down the alley to make their getaway.
Beckett sucked in a breath. “Lindell’s with them. I’m not letting him get away with this.”
He sprang past us into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The van roared around and swerved down a side street. Logan gripped my arm to help hold me in place in the back.
I had no idea where Beckett thought he was going until he roared around another bend—and slammed on the brakes just shy of hitting a car that’d been about to pull away from the curb.
A tall man with bushy eyebrows and a heavy layer of graying stubble stared out the driver’s side window at him. I guessed that was Lindell. He reached for his door, but it banged into the van’s front bumper, too close for him to squeeze out.
By then, Beckett had already pushed out of the van, a pistol in his hand. Logan lunged out after him, yanking out his own gun. My stomach twisted, but we all followed.
The stubbled man froze as Beckett and Logan circled the car. Beckett waved the gun at him. “Get the fuck out, Lindell. I’ve got a lot of questions I need to ask you.”
Lindell looked like he was attempting a smirk, but his expression was so tense it came out sour. “Nice to see you again, Storm’s heir.”
“What are we doing?” I hissed as Lindell eased out of the vehicle through the passenger side.
“He knowsallabout his boss’s business,” Beckett said, checking the man over for weapons. He pulled a gun out of a hidden holster and tossed it into the back of the car. “He might be able to give us some answers about where we’re going next.”
He tipped his head toward the other guys by the van without taking his eyes off his enemy. “There’s rope in my glove compartment. Get it. We don’t want to leave this prick mobile for our little trip.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Madelyn
The address Beckett had gotten turned out to be an ordinary-looking storefront with plain beige walls, a shade drawn over the dingy front window, and a logo-less sign that simply proclaimed the place to be “Teresa’s.”
“Teresa’s what?” Slade muttered, peering at it. “Convenience store? Shoe shop? Hat boutique?”
