Page 38

“Just take care of yourself. Get a place to live, a regular job. Find a girlfriend. Have a good life. You deserve it. Okay?”
“Yeah… Thanks again, Z. Take care.”
The instant the call ended, he punched in Ash’s number.
“Xavier?”
“Yeah, I got a lead.”
“Me, too,” Ash said.
They spoke simultaneously. “Chicago.”
His heart rate kicked into high gear. “Kate told you something?”
“She did. Not everything, though.”
“She’s still holding back on you? Why would she do that?”
The thought that Kate Walker would hold on to information that could help them find Jazz was bizarre.
“I don’t know. She swears the things she’s keeping to herself aren’t related to this. Says there are bigger things afoot.”
“Bigger than saving Jazz’s life?”
“That’s the thing. She said she doesn’t believe Jazz’s life is in jeopardy.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Hell if I know. It was like I was trying to solve a puzzle while the pieces were in the mouth of a tiger. She promised me that she doesn’t know who took Jazz but said to look into the Byrne family out of Chicago.”
“Byrne? Who are they?”
“Not sure yet. I’ve got Serena running intel as we speak.”
“What are you going to do about Kate?”
“I’ll have to face that when this is over. We can’t work this way. People holding back intel won’t work. But for now, my focus is on finding Jazz.”
“I’ve asked Rose to get me on the next flight out,” Xavier said.
“Good. I’m headed there, too. Eve and Gideon are still a few hours away from home. Once they get there, they’ll grab Serena and take the chopper to Chicago. Everyone will be just a few hours behind you.”
“Sounds good. See you there.”
Xavier pocketed his phone and took one last glance around Jazz’s apartment. They had leads—a name and a city. It was significant. He would keep digging, do whatever he had to do to find her. And once he did? Yeah, he already knew the answer to that, too—he was never letting her go again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Chicago
She was still here. Barely.
It had taken her over two hours to get the food the guard had dropped outside her cage. She’d had to create a pole and a hook using the wire from her bucket, her toothbrush, and one of the old milkshake cups. It hadn’t been pretty, and she’d been worn out and sweating a river by the time she’d gotten the bag within grasp of her fingers. She’d tried to get the shake but had ended up spilling most of it on the floor before she could retrieve it. All in all, it had been an infuriating and humbling experience, and if the guard had stayed to watch, he would have thoroughly enjoyed the show.
Had she messed up? Had he not bought her act? Even now, looking back on it, she couldn’t see where she got it wrong. So what if he’d called the old man and told him she wanted to talk—he hadn’t relented. At least not yet.
She wasn’t giving up, though.