Page 69 of Striker

"I'm in Reid's Repairs. She is... not here."

"This is not good. Not good... Oh, fuck you, Owen. Fuck you," she says, her voice rising to a strident shriek. “This is going to be bad…”

"Morgan, listen, I — "

"No, you listen. If anything happens to Riley's baby because of you..."

"Riley's... baby?" I stutter, the phone slipping from my grasp.

"Yes. Riley had a baby. She got pregnant by Michael. I have a nephew, Owen. His name is Luca Morgan Taylor, and my soon-to-be-brother-in-law is holding him hostage. If Riley doesn't follow through with the wedding, or if Dani and I do anything to mess it up, he's going to kill the baby."

Her revelation hits like a freight train. Everything Dani did, it was for Riley, for this child.

"I had no idea..."

"You had no idea because you didn't need to know. All you had to do was dance with Dani, love her, and support her. Now, you've fucked that up and my nephew is going to die. Along with me, my sister, and my best friend." There's a moment of silence, then a deep breath. "If I survive this, I am going to hurt you so bad, Owen. If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make you suffer..."

Numb, I stare into the distance, trying to think of something to say.

"Morgan, I'll fix this. I swear."

Ending the call, I feel a surge of determination. My hand tightens my grip on my gun.

I know exactly what I need to do to set things right.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Danielle

"It's just up ahead. Around the corner, and maybe a quarter mile up the road."

My voice shakes as we grow closer to the place where I'm needed the most, the place where I will probably be murdered. I'm heartbroken over Owen's betrayal, even though I know that's an emotion I don't have any time for right now. People need me, and I have to be strong in order to save their lives.

"Oh, I know where it is. I checked this place out on Zillow a while back. May have even put it on my vision board. Still, my board didn’t do it justice. I mean, shoot, these Vertuccis sure have a long driveway, don't they?" Moose says. "Oh, I can see the guy at the gate now. That's a nice rifle he has... Wow, is that an HK-33?"

"I don't know. My ex would, though," I say. It hurts to call him that, but that's what Owen is now. My ex.

"Honey, I'm going to stop here. The guy doesn't seem to be too happy with my semi-truck. You sure you're good to get out? I know we've only known each other a little while, Dani, but you feel like a sister to me already. I hope you get in there fine, and I hope you and Morgan and Riley make it out fine, too."

Moose knows most everything, because I may have vented a little — no, a lot — on the drive here, my fatigue and my pain just spilling out of my mouth in a vomit of despair. Moose listened to it all like a champion, even giving me a one-armed hug a few times, too.

"Thanks, Moose. I think I have it from here."

"I'm going to stay here for a second. Watch and make sure you get in okay."

"Thanks, Moose. I appreciate that," I say. As I slip out of the semi, I'm grateful he's sticking around, because the guard at the gate does not look enthused to see me and, whatever an HK-33 is, it sure is a big ol' gun. I approach slowly, because I know I look like shit and I don't want this guy to shoot me thinking I'm a zombie fromThe Walking Dead.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man calls out. "You look like a fucking ghoul."

I blink for a moment, surprised he even knows what a ghoul is. I wouldn't expect a Mafia thug with a big rifle to have much experience with folklore.

"Danielle Green. I'm not a ghoul; I'm one of the bridesmaids. Will you let me in, please?"

"One of the bridesmaids? For real? Why the fuck are you wearing mechanic's overalls and covered in dirt and... is that motor oil?"

"It's a long story."

"I got time."

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