“You’re telling me.” She leans forward, her breath warm against my ear. “But unfortunately it’s too late for that. I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s safe.”
A horn blares behind us, a midnight Alfa Romeo inching into my rearview.
“That’s Michelo,” I grate. “Do you have a needle for him, too?”
“I don’t need one. Once you’re incapacitated and I’ve got your gun, I doubt he’ll be a problem.”
I grind my teeth. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I’m not playing at all, asshole. Now tell me how you know where Isla is if you’re not responsible?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m familiar with your complications. And unless you want the rest of the world familiarized with them too, I suggest you start explaining.”
I clench the wheel so hard my knuckles threaten to crack. Every second she stalls is another second Isla might not have, the pressure of inaction trickling down my spine. “Someone put a tracker on her. I have access to the app.”
“Who?Why?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror. “Youdon’twant to know.”
She glares but doesn’t protest. “Are you sure she’s alive?”
My knuckles turn white. “I’m not entertaining the alternative.”
She huffs. Scornful. Skeptical.
“For someone acting on the concerns of her best friend, you’re sure good at wasting valuable time,” I bite out. “Either use the syringe and continue to escalate the situation, or back the fuck off and let me get her.”
“Don’t rush me, Cavallo.” She digs the needle deeper into my skin. “I don’t trust you.”
Miko honks again. Longer. Louder.
I risk Quinn’s wrath by shifting into reverse. “The fucks I give about your trust right now?—”
“Just give me a minute,” she snaps. “Put your hands back on the wheel.”
“There’s no time.” I check my rearview and watch as Miko’s car inches back to give me room. “Either sedate me or get out of the fucking car.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her gaze meets mine in the mirror. “Take me to her.”
The needle lifts. I slam the accelerator.
Tires screech as we lurch backward out of the parking space. Quinn grabs the headrest to steady herself while I shift gear, then gun the engine.
I tear out of the parking lot, Miko following on our tail.
“Tell me where she is,” Quinn demands.
My hackles rise. “Manhattan. Hudson Heights.”
I pull into traffic, ignoring the speed limit as she shuffles forward. Then with the grace of a brick, she climbs into the front seat, bumping my shoulder with her hip, nudging the gear stick with her knee, the syringe clasped between her teeth like she’s an unhinged psychopath.
She buckles in to shotgun and plucks the sedative-encased weapon from her mouth. “FYI, Cavallo, I don’t put myself in danger without insurance. If I’m incapacitated at any point, all the dirt I have on you and your brothers auto-sends to every journalist in the city.”
Given the balls on this woman, I’m inclined to believe her. But—“Leverage only works until you’re forced to use it. Then you’ve gotta hope like hell your info is enough to distract all those involved from revenge.” I shoot her a warning look. “Lucky for me I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Right. Isla just hopped on your yacht for a surprise vacay at the peak of career chaos.” She rolls her eyes. “Then the two of you—who’ve barely spoken civilly in years—needed privacy so badly you fired up a signal jammer? And yes, I know plenty about jammers, extenders, and all the little toys that block andmimic signals. How do you think I got in your car before you did?”
