“Madison’s neighbor broke into her flat. Stole her computer.”
“What?! Fuck,” Mac says.
“What?” Eleanor repeats, panic rising and mingling with the confusion. “What’s going on?”
“Madison just left,” Mac tells her. “She got the same notification Wes did—probably went to go get her computer.”
“What?! With all those bad guys still after her?” Eleanor gasps. “Oh my God! Go get her!”
“I’ll take my bike; it’s faster. You follow in the van,” I bark out to Mac as I jerk open the front door. I don’t even stop to make sure he heard or confirmed.
I shove my helmet on, tear out of the garage and fly down the drive, only pausing long enough to enter my code and to let the gate swing open just far enough for me to slip through. Then I take to the streets. I’m going out of my mind, caught in a loop of horrible possibilities.
A hitman lying in wait, despite the job appearing complete.
A police officer stationed outside her flat recognizes her.
She gets into a fucking car accident.
Fuck! Worry twists every possible terrible outcome and makes it seem not only possible, but likely.
I drop my bike to the ground when I arrive, and I certainly don’t take the time to remove and store my helmet. I’m up the steps and through the front door in moments, so pissed at needing a key to get through the inner door that I nearly break the glass. I’m reaching for my picks when someone comes through the front, on the phone and blithely unaware as I slip in behind her.
I slow, considering Madison’s door. If I know her, she went right for Todd. So I do too, reaching for the gun I shoved into the back of my jeans on my mad dash out of the mansion.
The door is shut firmly, but unlocked. I creep in as silently as possible, my heart pounding so loud in my ears I almost can’t hear her voice.
“Oh, you really did it this time, Toddy-boy. Hot Toddy. T-bone. Can I call you T-bone?”
“It was my f-football nickname,” Todd replies shakily.
“Of course it was; your name starts with a T.”
Oh, thank God. She sounds unharmed. Almost bored.
I move far enough into the room that I can see them. Todd is duct taped around the ankles and—I assume, since I can’t see them behind his back—wrists, sitting in the center of a bed with no covers or pillows, and Madison is on the other side of the room, her gun pointed lazily in his direction. Her computer lies on the floor between them, missing several key pieces that indicate someone has begun disassembling it. The floor creaks under my foot, and I remove my helmet.
She whirls, her eyes widening at the unexpected interruption as she hides the gun behind her back. She realizes it’s me and relaxes—then realizes what my being here means, and tenses all over again.
She swallows. “Hey, buddy…”
“Madison,” I reply calmly.
She’s not hurt. She has the situation under control. If I seem upset or worried or angry, I’ll take her credibility away from her, and that might make Todd stupid or brave. I’ve seen it before.
But fuck, I’m practically shaking with anger and fear…
“Would you step out here with me for a moment?” I say, forcing an evenness into my voice.
Todd senses an opportunity and leaps in. Perhaps he doesn’t recognize me. “Dude, help me! She’s crazy! She came in here with a gun and tied me up—”
I hold up my hand. “Shut the fuck up,” I tell him, then crook my finger at her.
She presses her lips together and spins back around to Todd, flashing him a saccharine smile. “Would you excuse us for a moment? And remember, if you scream, Iwillshoot your dick off.”
“She will,” I echo seriously.
She follows me into the main room, closing Todd into his bedroom amidst the sound of his soft sobbing. “Wesley!” she whispers excitedly, barely containing herself. “You’ll never believe what I found out—”
