Page 110 of Collateral Claim

It’ll get me killed.

It’ll get everyone killed.

And I don’t give a shit. I’m doing it anyway.

I step over the body of a guard to get into the car with Slada. The mayhem around us means very little when you’re in a bulletproof SUV.Thanks, Massio.

“Are you hit?” Slada asks while turning to look into the back. She finds a rifle. “Nice.”

“No. You?” I pass her my phone so she can help me navigate the streets as we follow the tracker embedded in Scarlett’s engagement ring. I want to get as close as possible while we still have her location. After today’s violence, if she doesn’t pawnthe ring and run away from everything her father and I put her through, Wilfred will replace it with one of his own.

The latter will happen over my dead body, so that’s why I lurch out of Massio’s gates like a bat out of hell, making Slada curse next to me.

“Let me drive,” she says.

“No way.”

“I’m a better driver,” she mentions.

True. She used to race cars for a living. “Don’t care.”

Normally, I don’t operate in a way that’ll jeopardize Slada or my nephews, and most definitely not Cass, but since I stood over the corpse of my half brother, Selnoa’s most notorious criminal, and put three more bullets in his chest just to be sure he was dead, I figured I’ve lost all sense.

The entire lunch might’ve been recorded. There could’ve been cameras in places we couldn’t reach, and now I’m on camera firing the first shot. Massio knew I cared about Scarlett and used that to provoke me but I did the rest. I didn’t have to rise to the occasion. Hell, I could’ve turned the plane around, which would’ve avoided all this.

But I didn’t. And I didn’t not only because I didn’t see another way of getting information about Cass, but also because I wanted Scarlett to see her father for who he really is. A crook. It’s the only way she’ll understand what I do and will do for her. And for my brother.

My brother, who is rotting in a prison thousands of miles away.

I slam my fist through the dashboard. It cracks the speedometer.

Slada throws up her hands. “Oh, great. You’re so helpful when you’re angry. Now I have no idea how fast we’re going.”

“Fast. That’s enough. How far are we from Scarlett’s location?”

“Coming up. Take the exit.”

“They’re getting on the highway?”

“Mmhm.”

“What’s in that direction?”

“Fields.”

“Fields?” We follow the signal and seem to be driving right behind them, but there’s nobody out here besides us. I hit the gas and speed past the dot that’s her signal.

“What in the world?” Slada asks. “Hold on.” She grabs her phone and dials Connor, then puts him on the speaker.

“Are you seeing this?” I ask him.

“Seeing what?” he asks.

“Don’t be cute.”

“I see nothing. You specifically prohibited hacking your phone.”

“Connor, please be helpful,” Slada says.