Page 60 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)

“ S ucks about your boat,” Piper said.

She had picked us up in the van and brought clothes. Not much—T-shirts, sweatpants, and flip-flops. It was better than nothing.

“Thanks,” I said.

She zipped us through the streets toward the warehouse district.

Tyson muttered in my ear, “Is she old enough to drive?”

I laughed. “Yes.”

“I’m 19, jackhole!” Piper snapped, glaring at him in the rearview.

Tyson raised his hands in surrender. Then in a hushed tone, he said, “She doesn’t miss much, does she?”

“Apparently not. ”

Piper kept eying him in the mirror, smacking bubblegum. “Xzavier says you’re this badass spec-ops guy.”

“Is that what Xzavier says?”

“Says you worked for the Company, then private, and now you’re with the county.”

“Xzavier does his homework.”

We pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse that had grown familiar now. Piper parked close to the worn building. There were a few other cars in the lot.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Tyson.

“You’re not getting out of my sight.”

“Plausible deniability, remember?”

Tyson’s face tightened, and he took a deep breath. “I’m coming with you.”

I gave him a look that said, are you sure? But there was no stopping him.

The cargo door rattled as I pulled it open. We stepped out of the van into the morning light. The amber ball was well over the horizon by now.

An eighteen-wheeler rumbled past the warehouse, spitting a plume of diesel exhaust.

We climbed the steps to the loading dock, then opened the door with peeling, bubbling paint. The hinges squealed for lubrication.

Shafts of morning light spilled in through the broken windows .

The gang was all here.

They huddled in the center of the room.

Xzavier smiled and stepped to greet us. He extended his hand to Tyson and said, “It’s great to finally meet you.

You’re a bit of a legend around here. I’m Xzavier.

I believe you’ve met TJ,” he said, motioning to him.

Xzavier continued to point out the others.

“This is Cooper and Finn. Of course, you’ve met Piper. ”

They all sized him up, and he returned the assessment.

“I understand Savannah has informed you of the situation. Before we go any further, I want to make sure we’re on the same page. After all, we are working toward the same goal.”

“To clarify, what is that goal?” Tyson asked.

“To keep Savannah safe, of course. And to serve justice.”

There was a long pause as the two men stared each other down.

“This is where I tell you that we are not so different,” Xzavier said. “Only our methods vary. I’m hoping you will extend me and my associates a professional courtesy, and ignore what you see here today. If you’re not comfortable with that, it might be better for you to wait outside.”

“Short of murder, I think I can overlook any actions you’ve taken. Who’s in the next room?” Tyson was no dummy.

Xzavier smiled and handed him a faceless white mask that you could get in any craft store. “You might want to put this on.” He handed one to me. “You too. ”

We all donned the expressionless masks that were so vacant they were scary as hell.

Once we were all anonymous, Xzavier led us into the next room.

He pulled open the door and presented a hostage tied to a chair, a black bag over his face.

He stepped beside the chair and pulled the bag from the man’s head.