“Her place, Jason Lane.”
“Why you calling me on the down low like this?”
“Sultans have someone on the inside. I got no idea who.”
“Hell.”
“At least one person, maybe a couple.”
“Trust no one.”
“I trust you, Sheriff. I’m going in there. I’ve got to, before they hurt her. I can take care of this, but I need your backup. And I need you to keep this quiet.”
“Go.” The sheriff paused. “I’m about twenty minutes behind you.” Another pause. “And don’t do anything stupid, son, got me?”
A few blocks away, he caught sight of Jessie’s self-defense card on the seat beside him. George had told him all about her neighbor and her cute kid. He hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, but now his head was ringing. If the woman and her kid were home, they could get caught in the crossfire. He dialed the number on the card, and she picked up.
“Ms. Shifflett, this is Clay Navarro.”
“Who?”
Fuck, he was losing it. “My name is Andrew Blane. I’m…I’m undercover ATF. I’m a friend of George Hadley’s. Your neighbor? Look, it’s too much to explain. There’s shit going down at George’s place. I need you to grab your kid and get out of there.”
“What are you—”
“Do it. Go. Now. Call the sheriff if you have to, but go. I don’t want to have to worry about two more people getting caught up in this.”
“Christ,” she muttered under her breath, then paused for an excruciating few seconds and asked, “Are you there, right now, at George’s place?”
“I’m on my way. I’ll get her out.”
She let out a little distressed noise at that. “You mean they’ve got her? George is in there with somebody?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Go. We’ll be fine. Just go.”
Clay hung up, took the last turn onto Jason Lane too fast, and parked down the street from George’s house. He thought his approach was quiet, although he couldn’t tell through the pounding in his ears. Don’t hurt her. Please don’t let her be hurt.
He set off into the woods, giving the house a wide berth in case they’d set up a perimeter. The woods felt familiar as he crept toward her place, the night sounds no longer an enemy but a friend, covering up his approach.
Close enough to see the house now, he waited, working hard to keep his breathing normal and force his adrenaline down to where it wouldn’t impede him.
It took a good minute for his eyes to find the person waiting in the night. Just a shadow from here, but so familiar that his heart took a bright leap toward hope. Backup! Help. Someone on his side!
The shadow moved slightly away from the shed, and Clay’s conscious mind recognized the man. That feeling of safety and friendship and relief exploded into a million tiny splinters of betrayal, each one sharp enough to gouge out his soul.
Tyler. Tyler fucking Olson, his best friend in the whole world. The man who’d always had his back since they were kids. Clay was godfather to two of the man’s children, for Christ’s sake. And Tyler was the inside man who’d betrayed him.
Nearly doubled over, it took him a while to push past the agony of it, to stand back up and recognize how obvious it should have been. That night at the club, his call for help. Tyler’d done nothing to help him. Nothing. And later, he’d been so goddamned interested in where Clay was hiding out, hadn’t he?
He’d been meaning to sell his location to Ape all along.
Quietly, without a clear plan, he made his way toward the silhouette, acid roiling like hate in his belly.
“Tyler.”
“Fuck!” Tyler turned, fast, with one hand flying to his gun, and then stopped when he saw who it was. His expression went through a quick, complicated change, shock morphing into guilt morphing into a smooth liar’s smile. “Jesus, don’t do that, man. You’ll give me a goddamned heart attack.”
