Page 56 of Stolen Omega

“Fuck,” I mutter as the tour bus finally starts its approach to the hotel.

“What is it?” Russ asks.

I stop myself from telling him it could be nothing a second time. We won’t know for sure until we get to the hotel parking lot, but there’s no good reason for Castle not to answer me.

“When the bus stops, I’m going straight to the parking lot to check for the van. I want you to check with the guy on the entry barrier to see who drove it out of there earlier. I want an image of the guy.”

Russ blinks at me, and I see the flash of horror in his eyes when he realizes what I’m telling him.

“What about Castle?”

“Not answering my calls.”

He brings out his phone and tries calling the old guy. I hear the voice mail message before he hangs up. I don’t expect him to bring up a different number. It’s one I don’t recognize.

“Is that …”

He nods, hitting call.

I hear the voice mail message, and my stomach sinks.

Zelena’s pretty, sunny voice is unmistakable.

Russ hangs up when her message ends, looking at me with fear in his eyes.

I call Castle one last time and leave a message telling him to call me straight back.

The tour bus finally pulls up outside the hotel and the driver opens the doors.

We move fast, exiting the bus and heading for the parking lot at a sprint.

I dart past the entry point, heading for the bays that are reserved.

When I turn that corner, I can see our bay is empty. The van isn’t here.

I remove my car keys from my pocket and march over to the black Dodge Viper.

I’ve never been more thankful to have my car with me.

I’m going to need it to go after whoever took our mate.

Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I use the van’s tracker on my phone to find out where it is.

The app takes a second to get to work, and when the red flashing light shows up, it’s ten miles away, in the opposite direction of the hotel from the venue. It’s practically in Silver Grove.

I keep the tracker open as I set the phone in my lap and get moving toward the parking lot exit.

My patience is running thin when the guy at the barrier asks to see my pass, but Russ shows him his before he gets into the passenger seat, and he raises the barrier before my Beta closes the door.

“Did you get the image of the driver?” I ask, as I tear out of the lot.

“No need,” Russ tells me. “The video showed it was Castle. He drove the van out of the lot before he started his shift today.”

“Take my phone and direct me.”

“Your phone …” It takes him a second to see it in my lap.

He picks it up quickly and looks at the screen. “What … Is this the van tracker?”

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