“It’s only been two days. They haven’t found anything yet.”
Gabriel pondered. “Cat.” He shook his head.
“Found her,” Ren announced. “She’s in the Bronx.”
“What she’s doing in the Bronx?” Gabe frowned.
“I’ll tell you, your mate is always nosing where she doesn’t belong.”
“Gather your team.” Gabe rose. “We’ll track her. How long have they been gone?”
“Approximately twenty minutes, tops.”
“How soon can you get a team ready?”
“In ten minutes.”
“We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
Bea clutched her hands as the car drove away fast. It occasionally stopped and slowed down. But most of the time, the car was speeding as if the devil himself was chasing their tail. Where were they taking them?
“I’m sorry,” Cat said quietly. “I didn’t know this would happen. Alex’s going to kill me for sure.”
“It’s not your fault. I begged to come. I wanted to find Alex’s shooter.”
“Least we know the culprit now. That bastard is very clever. Using Alex’s most trusted man to deliver whatever he was chasing.”
“What do you think Angelo wants?”
“I don’t know yet. Unfortunately, we stepped right into the middle of it.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Do you really have a tracking implant?” Bea asked.
“In my arm. Gabe insisted on it. He said I have a knack for getting kidnapped. He said it was for my own good.”
“You think Alex will come for us?”
“I hope so. I know he will when he’s realised we’ve been gone too long.”
“That could be hours.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could make things different.” Cat reached for her hand. Their cuffs clinked. “Now if I knew how to open a trunk from the inside, that would be cool.”
“Do you carry a gun?”
“Hell, no. I hate guns. Can you imagine me in a shootout with those jackasses? Besides, most detective work is spent researching and interviewing people.” Cat pushed and prodded, looking for a way to open the trunk.
The Cadillac suddenly stopped with a screeching halt. She and Cat bumped against each other.
“Shit,” Cat cursed.
Bea’s heart hammered wild again. “What now?”
Then they heard muffled gunshots. People shouting. Scuffles. Footsteps against the gravel. The whole thing couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but it felt like hours.
Someone yelled an order. And the trunk opened.