Stuffing the broken device into my pocket, I curse and rush outside to the back patio. Then cut through the woods towardDelta, where the dots were heading. But I don’t see anyone.
A car door slams to my left.
Old branches snap under a footstep to my right.
Rustling of clothing.
An engine starts and motors off.
Rusted smog to my left.
A flash of light to my right.
I aim that way and dart behind a tree, following a sprinting shadow. But when I round a wide oak trunk, I slam right into a hovering figure…
Talon Moretti.
forty-six
Laughter ripsout of me every time my fist crunches his face. I yank his jacket closer, so the next blow lands harder. He slumps after three, eyes weeping dark blood into the snow.
I’m not killing him with my hands. Not yet. I need answers.
Adrenaline buzzes like electricity as I drag Talon’s broken body across the frozen yard toward theDeltagarage. He won’t fit on my bike, and Tade and Ryan are nowhere within reach. Logan would piss himself if I asked him for help, but he’s the only option that flashes through my head.
“Who’s there?”
No shadows left to disappear into. Talon’s ruined bulk lies at my feet as I turn slowly, palms open like I’m the one who walked into this.
Apollo Griffin,Deltapresident, fills the doorway in a cheap polyester suit. One made to appear as if he’s got money.
Man’s about as big as Lan, even through the shoulders, but he’s likely more dangerous. Especially given that he’s already got his hand on a piece in his hip holster.
I jab my boot into Talon’s side. “This bastardbeat my appointed. I’m making him pay. He’s got info on where she went.”
He doesn’t move, dark eyes scanning my body, then Talon’s.
“He’s one ofyours…And I’m in a bit of a hurry,” I urge.
Apollo saunters closer, squats, and takes a peek at Talon’s swollen face. It’s low, almost imperceptible, and definitely a violation of the Greek code, but he swears. “I fucking hate this guy.”
“Everyone does,” I say.
He studies me carefully, then gestures to the racks of keys and bikes. “You need a ride. I only have my bike, but Vanq?—”
“That’s my sister’s fiancé.” Though we don’t necessarilyget along.
“Yeah, well, he’ll let you borrow one of these.” He shuffles toward a hanging board in the garage, fishes up some keys and clicks the button until a Mercedes chirps to life. The engine steams up the small space. “Or this is probably Lex’s latest, um,find. Best you get it out of here.”
Great. A hot car. “As long as the plates don’t get me chased.”
“It’s what I got for you.” With a nod, he steps aside. “And I don’t think it needs to be said, but?—”
“This never happened.”
“Never talked to you in my life.”
“Perfect,” I growl, hoisting Talon toward the buttery white leather of the back seat.