Page 82 of Duke

“It’s the only idea that makes sense. He wouldn’t just vanish, not when he knew we were there waiting. But if he had a bike and thought he could catch up to the fuckers? Yeah, he wouldn’t hesitate.” Thresh held up a radio. “He had a radio, but it was on the ground where we found the blood.”

“So…you said fuck the girls, let’s get Duke?” I demanded, feeing the anger bubble up. “Forget me, I can take care of myself!”

Anselm stepped forward, holding a hand up in placation. “We assumed it was you they had put a tracer into,” he said. “But it was not. It was—”

“Temple,” I bit out. “Yeah, I figured that out myself too. Cain said before you showed up that it wasn’t about me, it was about her.” I rubbed my temple. “All this time I’ve been assuming Cain’s guys were after me, following me, tracking me.”

“Meaning what?” Anselm asked.

“Meaning this whole fucking thing has been about Temple! He’s gonna sell her to someone as a sex slave.” I glanced at Thresh. “So how do we find her?”

Thresh answered. “With the help of our good buddy Lear.” He gestured outside, to the compound we were flying away from. “He’s hacked into their system. He says he can find the signal they’re receiving and send us to it.”

“And Puck?”

Anselm answered. “Would you want to be on the receiving end of a very angry Puck?”

I pulled a face. “Hell no.”

“We go after the girls, and assume Puck will make his presence known along the way.”

Harris twisted in the pilot’s seat, his expression grim. “More bad news, boys.” He tapped his headset. “Just got a call from Roth. Apparently Cain’s guys hit the island too. He’s got Layla and Kyrie, too.”

“Shit,” Thresh, Anselm, and I all said at once.

“He’s planning an auction,” Thresh said.

I met Harris’s gaze. “I think we’re going to need more friends.”

Harris nodded. “Already done. I’ve got Sasha and the rest of the Caribbean crew headed this way, along with a very, very pissed off Valentine Roth.”

Everyone went silent at that news; Roth was intimidating when he was in agoodmood.

Harris turned back to the controls, and we flew in silence for a few minutes. After a bit, Harris sat up straighter, listening to something in his headset.

He turned back to face us. “The good news is, Lear has the signal.”

“And the bad news?” I asked.

“They’re over the Atlantic, heading to Europe.” Harris reached out and clapped my shoulder.

“What about Puck?” I asked again.

Harris chuckled darkly. “Something tells me he’s on that plane.”