Killian looked at him in surprise and immediately did a complete search himself. “Where’d she go?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “Did she go alone?” The two looked at each other in shock. Jerricho quickly pulled out his phone and sent a message. We need the cameras in the hallway on the fourth floor of the hotel. Brenna’s missing.
Within seconds he was back at his laptop, the screen up, turned on, and a link in the Mavericks’ chat box. He quickly checked back in the last hour. “Shit,” he said, “look at that.” And, with Killian at his side, they watched as a man dressed all in black pulled a hood over his head just outside the door and knocked. Jerricho had already told her that he was on his way up, so she had expected him. She opened the door, a big smile on her face, and then the camera cut out. They waited and watched the feed, which resumed as a door was opened almost immediately. She was picked up and taken to the room across from them. Jerricho bolted to his feet and raced to the room opposite theirs. But it was already empty. As he came back, Killian stood in front of the laptop, watching the cameras.
“Came back out after we came in,” he said. “She’s just minutes ahead of us.”
“Which way did they go?”
“Service elevator.”
Jerricho bolted outward, racing for the stairs, taking them four and five at a time, landing upon landing. The service elevator would have gone straight down to the parking level. If not lower. At the parking level, he burst out of the doors to see a vehicle pulling away at top speed. He raced behind it, pulling out his handgun and firing. The vehicle stopped, hit the brakes, and reversed as fast as it had gone forward, aiming for him.
He stood steady aim and took out the back tire, and, as it kept coming toward him, a little bit lopsided, he dashed off to the side and then fired at the driver. The vehicle careened off to the side, slamming into several others. He pulled open the driver’s door, checked to see that the driver was dead, and then checked in the back seat. Found nobody. He popped the trunk lever and raced around. “Jesus Christ,” he roared.
Killian came up behind him. “Is she there?”
He reached down and plucked her from the trunk and said, “She’s unconscious. I smell chloroform,” he said.
“But why?” Killian asked. “That makes no sense.”
Just then another shot was fired over their heads. Jerricho ducked to the ground with her in his arms, as Killian returned cover fire.
“We didn’t get them all, that’s for sure,” Killian murmured.
“I want to get her safely away from here.”
“That would be lovely. Hide in between the vehicles, while I take down this guy.” But enough covering fire kept them from even lifting their heads for several minutes. And, by the time they stood, a vehicle at the far end already had ripped past and out of sight.
“Shit,” Jerricho said, “we need the cameras again.” He handed off Brenna to Killian. Once again, Jerricho pulled out his phone and told Diesel just what had happened.
Shocked, Diesel asked, “But what’s the point?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but we need to find out. That vehicle needs to be tracked, and it needs to be tracked now. And I need a set of wheels.” He looked around and, sure enough, spotted a Jeep Cherokee soft top. “Stay connected, Diesel. We’ll be on their ass in just a sec.”
Jerricho raced over, checked, but no key. Still, he could hot-wire that sucker in a heartbeat. Before Killian was even done stashing Brenna in the back seat and getting her buckled in, they were already reversing out and tearing off onto the street.
“Tell me if they went left or right out of the car park,” he said.
“Left,” Killian said, “I saw that much. And they took another left up at the next corner.” He added, “You can just see it through the pillars.” He followed the directions Killian had given him, and Jerricho tore off in their direction. “Keep on tracking, Diesel. See if the guys can find them. The traffic cameras should pick them up.”
“We’re working on it,” he said.
“Work faster.”
“Where’s Brenna now?” Diesel asked.
“She’s in the back of the vehicle that I’m in,” he said. “I stole a Jeep.”
“Of course you did,” he said. “Any idea whose it is?”
“Killian will tell you in a second,” he said, “when he pulls out the paperwork.”
At that, Killian rummaged through the glove box, found the requisite docs, read off the name, and said, “Give them my apologies.”
“Yep,” Diesel said, “it’s minor in the scheme of things.”
“It’s a nice Jeep though,” Killian said, as Jerricho tore around the corner. He looked at Jerricho and said, “Why this direction?”
“I don’t have any reason except that he’s heading for the main freeway,” he said. “So, if I was him, I’d be trying to get out of town. I’d be heading for open air.”
“Maybe, unless they have a bolt-hole in the city.”
“I think, at this point, they need to get the hell out of the city,” he said, and he took another sharp left.
“Tell him to take a right at the next corner,” Diesel said. “And Jerricho’s correct. Our gunman’s heading for the freeway. This is a shortcut.” Quickly following the directions, they headed out into this crazy chase, following blindly, as they tried to track down the vehicle that had shot at them.
“You realize that,” Diesel noted, “as long as you have her, she’s in danger.”
“I got it,” Jerricho snapped. “But, as long as this guy’s free, and he had some intention to take her out of this, then she’ll never be safe.”
“Right,” Diesel said, “carry on then. I’ll hang up now, but I’ll be here, if needed.”
Killian, being his eyes and ears, left Jerricho to keep following the traffic signals, until he hit the open highway, at which time, he geared it up and tore down the road.
“There is a speed limit,” Killian said mildly.
“It’s more like a guideline,” Jerricho snapped.
Killian burst out laughing. “Just don’t kill us in the process.”
“Hell no,” he said, “it’s too sweet a ride for that. I’m not sure what he’s got under the engine here, but it’s nothing stock.”
“It’s a Jeep, which means somebody cares about their baby.”
“Yep, and right now it’s much appreciated.” Jerricho kicked it up into a higher gear and said, “I think I see them up ahead.”
“Seriously?” He looked ahead.
“Four cars to the right,” Jerricho said. “On the shoulder lane.”
Just then the vehicle in question took a right turn.
“Dammit,” he said, twisting to look behind him and cutting across two lanes of traffic.
“Good thing nobody else wanted to make that corner.”
“We’ll make it,” he snapped. And, sure enough, he tore the vehicle around the corner as he leaned into it. “It corners nicely.”
“I thought these things were tippy?”