The announcement came through the speakers of Ella’s SUV so sharply and clearly that Casey was confused. Had the Bluetooth system somehow decided that Fuckface was inappropriate...? But then she realized that the SEAL formerly known both as Luc and Fuckface had texted Ella, whose phone had an app that delivered a similar hands-free notification of texts. Casey was hearing this secondhand—over their currently crystal clear open phone line.
“Defcon One,” Ella’s phone recited Rio’s texted words in its dulcet tones. “I just got jumped outside my apartment. Miller’s men followed me from the bar. I evaded but they fucking shot me. At me. They missed. Mostly.”
“What?!” Casey said as behind her, in the car Ella was driving, that calm voice continued to recite Rio’s call for help.
“I’m texting ’cause I don’t want Casey to know, but I’m worried about Jon. Tried calling, no answer. I’m going to the bar and I will get him out of there,” the message continued. “But I need to know you’ll keep Casey safe. Get into your SUV with her now. Ignore her bullshit. Sit on her if you have to. Whatever it takes.”
This was not any kind of request for help. But... “What the hell is he planning to do?” Casey asked, as she gripped the steering wheel as tightly as she could, as if that would somehow stop her brain from spinning. “Just walk into the Infinity Lounge where the men who just shot him hang out? Like, Hey, guys, you missed me—mostly—wanna try again?!” God, Rio was going to get himself killed. “Ella, I have to try calling Jon. Maybe he’ll pick up if it’s me.”
“Casey, I don’t want you to—” Ella’s words were measured. Calm. But Casey ended the call connecting them. “Call Jon-my-brother,” she ordered.
“Calling Jon-my-brother,” the computer voice said obediently as behind her, Ella started honking.
Casey held up one finger in front of her rearview mirror—the international signal for give me a freaking minute—as Jon’s phone rang, but went right to voicemail. “Jon. You have to get out of there. Go someplace safe. Your friends just shot Rio. Call me as soon as you get this,” she said after the beep, hoping that if she didn’t provide him with any kind of reassuring Thank goodness he’s okay, her brother might return her call ASAP.
Except, shit, Jon wouldn’t know who Rio was—he knew the SEAL as Luc.
Damn it.
Meanwhile Ella was buzzing her back, so Casey accepted that call. “Jon didn’t answer,” she reported. “Ella, we gotta get to that bar before Rio does!”
Where were they...? An exit was approaching, but it was the next exit, the one after this one, that wasn’t too far—about a couple miles—from the good old Infinity.
The so-called “lounge” was a truly depressing dive bar that Jon had frequented back before rehab. Casey had never been able to figure out why he went to that crappy bar so often, but now it was clear that he went because his dealer hung out there. Casey had picked Jon up there—or had begged Dave to go rescue him there—enough to know this part of San Diego too damn well.
“To do what?” Ella was sounding far less patient, her voice rising.
“To get Jon before Rio goes in there and gets himself killed!” Casey said. Was Ella seriously intending to not help Rio...?
“Casey,” Ella’s voice was clipped, her words an order. “Exit,” she said. “Now.”
Ella had already pulled into the right lane, leaving space in the still-heavy traffic for Casey to do the same in front of her. Behind them both, Taylor skillfully maneuvered his way directly behind Ella.
“No,” Casey said. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Call Chief Taylor and tell him what’s happening and where we’re going. Where I’m going. It’s okay if you don’t want to follow.”
Ella was shouting something with lots of nos and don’ts and a very clear If you do this, I will quit!, but Casey cut the connection.
“Call Fuckface.”
The Bluetooth obediently obliged. “Calling Fuckface.”
Over the SUV’s speakers, Casey could hear the line ringing as beside her on the right, Ella was once again honking and gesturing like a crazy person. Her meaning was clear: Get her ass into the right lane and exit now.
Instead, Casey got the opening she’d been hoping for, gunned the gas and squeezed the SUV into the middle-left and then the far left lane, which in true California fashion was moving much faster than the middle right or exit lanes. Damn, this giant thing could move when it wanted to.
“Casey?” Rio picked up, his voice coming through on the SUV’s high-end speakers, and the relief she felt made her sag a bit in her seat. But she quickly recovered, stepping on the gas.
“You were shot?” she said. A glance in the rearview showed Ella and Taylor were both trapped by slower-moving traffic as Casey pulled farther and farther away.
“Um... a little?” he said. “Grazed. I’m fine. No big... How did—”
“We’re on our way,” Casey told him as she flew past that exit that Ella had wanted her to take. “To the Infinity Lounge.”
“What?” he said. “No! Ella, what the hell?”
“Ella’s not on this call, this is just me,” Casey said. Ella was, in fact, trying to call her again, and Casey sent her swiftly to voicemail before the Bluetooth could try to interrupt. “Ella and Chief Taylor are a little behind me. Traffic’s insane.”
“God damn it, Casey—”
