There you go.
I raced that way, burst through the doors into the middle of a wide hallway. Ten yards to my left and I’d end up in the service quarters. I thought about the blueprints I’d studied and ran further forward, remembering there was a hallway leading to a side entrance.
It would be a perfect place to sneak in and out without too many people noticing.
In minutes, I hit the exit and pushed through.
I have to end this.
Cold air hit me. My heart hadn’t quit pounding. My chest ached from the overexertion, but I wouldn’t rest or stop until I had Baptiste on the ground. He was too dangerous and this all had to end.
The dark sky showed clear with stars. Wind whipped. The trees swayed back and forth. It was all instinct and a gnawing feeling in my gut.
If I was him, I would go this way.
Gazing into the shadows, I kept my gun forward and started down the steps.
A door slammed.
Is that you?
Speeding up, I was half-way down the stairs when I heard the rumble of an engine.
Fuck! Hurry!
I increased my pace, grasping at every ounce of energy I could find. When I made it to the parking lot, I spotted a white car. I checked the front window as it headed my way.
Baptiste.
With no hesitation, I pointed and shot at the window. Screeching, he swerved a little, but continued to speed. I shot again, pulling the trigger fast. The car raced out to the wide entrance gate in a spray of gravel.
Fuck you!
He sped away, but not before throwing a small red object out of the driver’s side window. It fell into the flower bed outlining the side entrance.
What is that?
Panting, I ran over to the place where Baptiste had thrown it.
It was a small box. Red satin covered it. I opened the damn thing. A crumpled note lay inside. I read the sentence out loud, “If you want Zola, meet me in Montego Bay.”
Baptiste had signed the card as Brokenhearted.
What the fuck do you mean, if I want Zola?
And that was when my heart exploded.
I shouldn’t have left her.
I ran back around and sprinted to the ballroom.
No. No. Please, say no.
31
Adrenaline
Hunter
I had no energy, but I found it.
Damn you, Baptiste.
He knew the only way I would leave Zola’s side was if I could grab him. When I entered the mansion, screams erupted from the ballroom. I was there in seconds with my gun out, shoving people out of my way. “Move!”
The guards I’d left with Zola lay groaning in pain on the ground. Both men each had a knife stuck into their thighs. It was Meridian’s signature thing when he didn’t want anyone running after him.
At least Meridian didn’t kill them.
It was a good sign because, in that moment as I scanned the stage, I knew with all certainty that Meridian had Zola.
I roared at a bewildered Stone Mason. “Which way did they go?!”
Mason pointed to the back exit with shaking hands.
For the hundredth time that night, I sped away. My legs were damn near gone. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Meridian could still be on the property with Zola. If I could just get to them before he drove off, there would still be a chance.
I’ll race down the fucking car if I have to.
After minutes of running, my heart was close to exploding, but I was out the mansion on the other side.
The wind buffeted my face. Sirens wailed in the background. The parking lot was massive—hundreds of cars and limos.
Are they here?
A female screamed off in the distance.
That’s Zola. I know it is.
I still couldn’t get a direction on where it came from.
Meridian and Stark had to be transporting Zola somewhere.
But why and where?
Due to her scream, they were still in the process somewhere around the parking lot. Instead of racing all over the lot, I needed a car.
I need a car, just in case.
I checked the cars in the parking lot. Almost all were new and high end, but further in the back near the security booth, an old car was parked. The old thing looked like it had been manufactured in the mid-nineties.
I’ll take that one.
While I could get into most cars, I had no minutes to waste. A quick hot-wiring only worked on the old ones. Newer models were equipped with a whole host of locking mechanisms to keep thieves out.
Sorry, man. I’ll get you a new one later.
I ran to the car and bumped it. An alarm didn’t come on. I broke the window, stuck my hand inside, and unlocked the door.
Scream again, Zola. I’m here. I’ve got you.
I jumped in the car, pushed away the broken glass, and put my gun on the passenger seat. No sound came from the parking lot.
Goddamn it!
I went to work on stealing the car.