“Okay. Here’s the plan, baby,” I tell him quietly…
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
HUNTER
Her phone ison the sidewalk outside departures. Ace finds it. Cracked screen. My text still open. Her half-typed reply in the message bar, cursor blinking.
She never finished writing back to me. But I read the words there with shaking hands.
I love you.
The noise of the airport collapses into a ringing silence inside my skull. We check inside. Every counter. Every gate. Every bathroom. Every security camera angle I can bribe my way into reviewing.
She never went through departures. She never even fucking walked through the doors.
My hands are shaking so bad that Ace had to get in behind the wheel. I haven’t shaken since the day Wyatt was born.
“Call Colten,” I tell Ace. “Get Romeo on the line. Now.”
Ace is already dialing. “Colten. I need to see whatever you’ve been working on today. Anything. Lola’s missing.”
“What?”
“She never got on the plane. Someone grabbed her at the airport. And whoever is behind all this with the Greeks has her.”
Colten goes quiet for half a beat. “I’m putting you on speaker so Romeo can hear.”
“Talk to me,” I yell.
“We got to the bottom of the missing footage. Two things. You ain’t going to like either. But, I’ve triple checked everything, and I’m right.” Colten’s voice is tight. The voice he uses when something is very bad.
“What’s on it?”
“Sending it now. You need to see it to believe it.”
My phone buzzes, and Ace leans over to watch it.
I open the video and hit play. It’s grainy but clear enough. Reese. Standing in a parking lot. Meeting with two men I recognize as Greek operatives. The timestamp is three days after I broke his hand.
“That motherfucker,” Ace mutters.
“Reese went to the Greeks after I fired him,” I say. “He cut a deal. He’s been feeding them information.”
I scratch my stubble. But that doesn’t account for the Greeks knowing I’d be at Ashley’s. Reese didn’t even know I was going there. Unless he was tailing me, which I doubt.
“Colt. Do we think he was working with them before Ashley was murdered?”
“We don’t know. There are no phone logs. No footage. Nothing, until after…”
“After I nearly killed him,” I finish his sentence.
“Hunter.” Ace’s voice changes. “Zoom in. Bottom right corner.”
I glance at him. His face is grey.
“What?”
He turns the phone toward me. I look at the image. The parking lot. Reese and the Greeks are in the center. And in thebottom right corner, parked behind a dumpster, half hidden, but it’s there, Beau’s truck. The navy blue F-150 with the dented fender. The truck I’ve seen parked outside my house every day.