Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Aww, they’re so cute together,” Domino mocks.
“You’re all fired,” I grumble.
They ignore me.
“Way to show respect for your superior, asshats. Would you have treated your COs like this in the military?”
“I did,” Iris says at the same time Domino replies, “None of our COs called us asshats.”
“They didn’t?” Iris asks. “Next to Iris, my unofficial name during my time in the military was asshat, dumbass—”
“We’re going to be here all day if you say every insult our commanding officers ever called you,” Saint says.
Dylan actually laughs, and when I look over at him, only illuminated by the lights on the dash and the moonlight above us, I’ve never seen someone more beautiful.
“Okay, we’re out,” I say. “I’ll keep you posted and let you know if we run into any trouble.”
“I’ll keep you updated on this end,” Domino says. “And now we know there’s a credible threat, we’ll keep an eye on all traffic past HQ. Call when you’re back in LA or if you need anything.”
The call ends.
“I hate them,” I tell Dylan. “All of them.”
“Sounds like it, but they’re fun.”
“Like a hole in the head is fun.”
What I don’t say is I wouldn’t change them for the world.
As we drive the streets of LA and Dylan points out all the places Hale could be, something sits wrong in my gut.
I chalk it up to not wanting Dylan to be here or to put himself in danger by showing his face in places Walker or any of his hired guns might know to look for him.
The first place we try on Skid Row comes up empty, and then a few blocks away, Dylan tells me to pull over. The streets of this area are sketchy on a good day.
Close to the middle of the night, the seediness permeates the air.
I watch from the car while Dylan approaches a hooker. I’ve given him a ball cap and one of my jackets from a go bag I keep in my car, but it does shit all to hide who he is. Then again, I could pick his body out of a lineup in nearly complete darkness. Every chance I get to check him out, I take.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but the scantily clad woman shakes her head, and when he comes back to the car, he has a frown line under the ball cap.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“She said that she saw him, but that was two days ago, and she has no idea where he is now.” He stares out the window, scanning the area.
“So maybe they weren’t lying to my guys.”
“I hope they were lying.”
“Why?”
Dylan turns to look at me. “Because if no one has seen him for a couple of days, something has happened to him. He’s a creature of habit, and he has his favorite spots. So either he knows what he was sending me to and has now gone into hiding or …”
Shit. “Or Walker has already gotten to him.”
“Exactly. We need to find him.”
I reach over and squeeze his leg. “We’ll find him.”
I hope we find him.
The next place is a tent city in Hollywood, but as Dylan makes his way past everyone and talks to a few, it’s obvious none of them know where Hale is, and he hasn’t been here for days.
Dylan looks defeated as we head back to the car.
“Maybe it’s like you said. Maybe he’s gone into hiding. If he does know more than what he told you, he’d want to save his own ass. From you and Walker.”
“This isn’t like him, though.”
“Where to now?”
“We can try Venice. There’s another tent city there. I’ve never met up with him in that spot, but if he is hiding out or changing his routine, we need to go places he doesn’t usually go.”
The more we drive all over LA and the surrounding counties, the more I become uneasy. Dylan showing his face in too many places leads to a higher risk of him being found.
Dylan’s silent as we drive, the worry rolling off him. I wish I knew how to make it better, but outside of finding this guy, I don’t think anything will reassure him.
Hale’s not in Venice. He’s not in any shelters.
It gets to a point where I no longer think Dylan’s worried about saving his own skin but worried for his CI and friend. Law enforcement aren’t supposed to become friends with their confidential informants, but it would be hard not to when rapport and trust is established.
My phone rings through the car speaker, and my Bluetooth automatically picks up. “What’s up?”
“Found him yet?” Domino asks.
“Nope.”
“Got a place to stay tonight? It’s getting late.”
“Also nope.”
“You can crash at any of our places,” Domino says. “I’m staying at HQ and making sure no one is out there trying to get in, but you’ve got the code to my place. Let yourself in.”