“We can’t all fit in your Maserati,” Nic said, even as he ran after Danny, leaving Cam to catch up.
“We’ll make it work. They’ve got Mel, and right now, you two are the best shot I’ve got at getting my wife back.”
Cam thought Mel was probably Danny’s best shot at getting Mel back, but the fear and panic in the younger Talley’s voice was enough to make Cam shut his trap and offer whatever support he could. Which meant, as the shortest of the three of them, pretzeling himself into the “back seat” of Danny’s garish yellow sports car.
Cramped as he was, Cam struggled to get his phone out of his pocket. Danny flooring the gas and racing after the food truck didn’t help, practically slinging him around in the back seat. Where was the oh-shit handle in this thing? Danny cut down streets and through neighborhoods, following the truck and confusing Cam. Where the fuck were they going? The freeway? The 280? Why, when Gravity had been less than a block from the 101?
Setting confusion momentarily aside and trusting Nic to help Danny navigate, Cam finally freed his phone. He rang Aidan first; got his voicemail. He tried Lauren next. Sure, he could haveimmediately called this into the local police, and he might have to if Meat & Cake—and Danny—kept breaking traffic laws, but Lauren might be able to finesse that with the locals. And as a hacker, she could tap into cameras and traffic lights to give them an advantage.
“What’s up?” she answered, and Cam clicked his phone over to speaker, holding it so Nic and Danny could also hear.
“Either Mel’s been kidnapped by a frat boy in a food truck,” Cam said, “or she’s hijacked the food truck.”
“I’m betting the latter.”
“It was a bounty,” Danny said. “He made a break for it but not before Mel got into the?—”
Nic slapped the dash, cutting him off. “Danny, that light’s about to turn re?—”
Danny screeched through the intersection behind the truck, horns blaring on all sides. Cam grabbed Nic’s shoulder and slammed his eyes shut. Nic’s hand came down on top of his, squeezing tight. Two breaths later, when no jolt off course or crunch of metal followed, and Nic’s hand on top of his tightened, Cam reopened his eyes.
“Holy fuck,” he cursed, digging his fingers into Nic’s shoulder, confirming reality. They were really still there. And gaining on the truck.
“What just happened?” Lauren demanded.
“You don’t want to know,” Nic said.
“First order of business,” Cam interjected. “Tap into the traffic signals on Woodside Road in Redwood City and turn all the southbound lights green. Turn all the other lights red. We need a clear path.”
A flurry of keystrokes echoed over the line, then, through the windshield, Cam watched as all the traffic lights ahead of them turned green.
“Good,” he said. “Now get us some backup. RWCPD units to the 280. Tell them it’s an officer-involved incident.”
“You sure about that?”
“Just do it.” He gave her the details on Danny’s car and the food truck, then hung up. Righting himself, he leaned forward between the seats as they sped toward the Alameda. Past that intersection, it would only be a mile to the 280. “We should have intercepts at the freeway.”
“That enough time for them to get there?” Danny said.
“Let’s fucking hope so.”
Except as they sped across the Alameda and down the winding hill toward the 280, there were no sirens, and as the freeway overpass came into sight, no officers or troopers.
“Fuck, if they get on the freeway…” Cam said.
“They won’t,” Nic said with a shrug.
A shrug. And why the fuck did he sound so calm?
“What do you mean they won’t? Where the fuck are they going?”
“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
“What are you on about?” Danny said as he tailed the truck under the freeway, heading toward Woodside.
Ignoring him, Nic shifted in his seat, turning toward Cam. “What color is that truck, Boston?”
Cam’s gaze automatically flickered past Nic, out the window to the truck in front of them. “Carolina blue.”
