Page 172 of Come Back To Me

“What’s he doing?” Travis’ voice has raised.

Legs looks at the crates, then to our direction, then back to the crates, sizing them up.

“Don’t fucking do it,” Travis grates reading Legs’ mind.

I hold my breath as the men climb in the lorry, shutting their doors. We look back to Legs. He’s gone. “Shit.”

My hand reaches for the handle but Travis pulls me back. “We’ll follow it.” We watch the lorry pull out, and he starts the engine. “I’m not patching him in. If he fucks this, he’s out.”

“Out? He’ll be fucking dead.”

We wait until the lorry leaves, rounding a bend, then slowly pull away after it. We take the turn but are immediately thrown forwards when Travis slams the brakes, coming head on with another lorry pulling in. “Cunt!” he shouts, slamming his handagainst the wheel.

“Move the fuck out the way!” I hold out my hand to the driver.

He beeps his horn, shouting at us. A few people appear from nowhere, watching the commotion as the driver sounds the horn again.

“Go back before this prick draws attention to us.”

Travis grumbles putting the van into reverse, quickly moving us out of the way.

The driver of the lorry moves forward, shaking his head at us.

We go to move, but fuck me, we’re jolted again as lorry after lorry file in after the first.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Get us out of here,” I rush, urging Travis to go back the way we came in. Blood surges around my body, my fist clenching tight. “What the fuck was he thinking? I told you I should have gone in!” I’m going to kill him. If he doesn’t show up dead first, I’m going to rip his head clean off.

Connected to Bluetooth, my phone starts ringing through the van’s speakers. My teeth grind against each other, my mind reeling on how we’re to find Legs. “Jack,” I answer.

“Deano? What’s wrong?”

How can he tell so fast? “Prospect doesn’t want to patch in, that’s what.”

Travis flings the van onto the main road, pressing the accelerator to the floor.

I continue, “Kid knew where the crates were leaving from. We got him close to attach trackers, but he’s fucking gone. Jumped on the back of the lorry carrying them.”

Jack’s harsh breath doesn’t go unheard. “And what the fuck does he think he’s going to do on his own?”

I scrunch my eyes, pissed off. “He thinks he can help getinside information, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is exactly what you fucking wanted.”

There’s a pause. “Where is he now?”

“If I fucking knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

Travis speeds trying to join the traffic heading in the direction of the lorry.

“We’re trying to find the vehicle now.”

“Fucking, Christ!” Travis yells. We hit standstill traffic, no sign of the lorry up ahead.

“What is it?” Jack asks.

I grunt sending my fist into the glove box. “Meet at us the clubhouse—”

“I—”

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