"That puts them in the line of fire if something goes wrong," I argue.
"Leaving them here puts them at risk if Morrison sends someone after them while we're gone."
He's got a point, but I hate it.Bringing Evangeline and those kids anywhere near Morrison feels wrong on every level.
"We can keep them in a secure vehicle," Ghost offers."Park a few blocks away, armed escort, ready to bug out if things go sideways."
It's not a great plan, but it's better than the alternatives.
"Alright.But I want Tempest on them personally.He doesn't leave their side."
"Done."
We're finalizing details when my phone rings.Unknown number.Every instinct screams not to answer, but I do anyway.
"Yeah?"
"Sorry about the photos."Morrison's voice is smooth, mocking."But I wanted to make sure you understood the situation."
"I understand you're a dead man."
"Am I?Because from where I'm sitting, I've got all the leverage.Speaking of which, how's Evangeline?She seemed pretty distracted when she left for the pharmacy."
Every muscle in my body goes rigid."What?"
"The pharmacy.About twenty minutes ago.She took that young prospect with her, the one with the bad acne.Said the little one needed fever medicine."
No.No, no, no.
I'm running before Morrison finishes talking, heading for the secure wing, praying I'm wrong, praying this is just him fucking with my head.
But when I burst through the door, I find the children.
But no Evangeline.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Where the hell is she?
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
hades
The prospect'sname is Tiny.He’s twenty-two years old, eager to prove himself, and stupid enough to think protecting Evangeline on a pharmacy run would be easy.
I find him in the parking lot behind the twenty-four-hour pharmacy three blocks from the clubhouse, slumped against the rear tire of his truck.His eyes are glassy, pupils dilated, and there's dried drool on his chin.
"Tiny."I shake him hard enough to rattle his teeth."Where is she?Where's Evangeline?"
He mumbles something incoherent, his head lolling.Tempest drops to his knees beside us, checking Tiny's pulse and pupils.
"He's been drugged," Tempest says grimly."Something fast-acting.Probably slipped it to him inside the pharmacy."
"How long ago?"
"Based on his condition, twenty, maybe thirty minutes."
Thirty minutes.Evangeline has been in Morrison's hands for half an hour, and I've been sitting in the clubhouse planning a hit that's already too late.
