“She has three legs.” Rixey winced at the idiocy of the observation.
“Uh, yeah.” Her gaze slid out the passenger window, making it crystal clear she wasn’t in any more of a mood to chitchat than he’d been before. And fine. Until he got her off the road, situational awareness was his top priority. Everything else could wait. He cut in and out of traffic on Eastern Avenue, eager to get her home. Eager to get her safe. A few moments later, Becca’s posture straightened and she leaned forward, like she was looking for something. Her gaze whipped toward him. “This isn’t the way to my house.”
Icy slush slid into his gut. As if she wasn’t already dealing with enough, he was going to have to find the words to tell her what had been done to her home. “Not going to your house.”
“But I thought—”
“It’s a new ball game, Becca.”
“Because someone tried to grab me.”
Her tone was way too fucking nonchalant for his taste. He glared. “Because someone tried to abduct you and stabbed you. For starters.”
“And? Why else?”
Shit. He really didn’t want to have this conversation in the car. But she was going to think him a royal asshole if he refused to answer. The words tasted like acid as he gathered them on his tongue.
His phone rang, the vibration skittering against his hip from within his coat pocket. “Hold on a minute.” He fished it out, read Miguel’s name on the screen, and put the cell to his ear. “This is Nick.”
“Did you find her?” Miguel said by way of greeting.
“Yeah, about thirty seconds before some lowlife nabbed her from a staff break room.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Is she okay? Did you get a look at the perp?” Nick could tell from the cadence of Miguel’s breathing that the man was pacing.
“For whatever good it’ll do me, yeah, I got an eyeful. Becca’s a little banged up, but she’s a trooper.” Which, honestly, was a goddamned understatement. She’d resisted her assailant, gotten in an elbow to the guy’s kidney that had probably ensured Nick wouldn’t have to make good on his threat to shoot, and dealt with a frenzy of well-wishers and questions and general ER chaos with patience and grace. She was more than a little like her old man—in all the best ways. Rixey glanced her way and found her blatantly listening in on the conversation. Not that he blamed her. “Listen, things wrapped up over there yet? I think you should clear out until I get a better handle on this. That location is too hot.”
“Door locks are changed. The guy’s doing the sliding window locks now.”
“Good. Did the police come?” Silence. “Miguel?”
“That’s not an option right now. But I’d rather explain in person.”
Aw, for fuck sake. Not an option to call the police? The whys behind a statement like that could not possibly be good. “You know where to find me. My door’s open.”
“Yup. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Okay. Listen, watch your six on the way out.”
“You got a tail?” Miguel asked.
The question had Nick doing the mirror-mirror-windshield circuit one more time. “Not anymore. But maybe earlier.”
“Will do. Stay safe, Nick.”
“Right back atcha.” They disconnected.
Instinct was telling him they hadn’t yet hit bottom on this situation, whatever the fuck it actually was. And figuring that out was job one. Because right now he was running blind in the middle of a shit storm he hadn’t seen coming. How he was going to come up with the who, what, when, where, and why all on his own was a whole other problem.
You can get help if you ask for it.
It wasn’t just the men who’d been killed that he’d lost last year, it was the other four survivors, too. Because he’d been too fucked in the head to find a way to get right with his role in what’d happened to them. How could they possibly want to stay friends with someone who’d failed them so spectacularly? But, goddamnit, they’d be the world’s best ace in the hole to bring in on this situation.
“Who was that?” Becca asked.
“Friend named Miguel Olivero. Private investigator I told you about. Ex-cop. He was helping me out at your place earlier.”
Rixey purposely passed the road that led most conveniently to Hard Ink and drove four blocks out of his way. His rear still looked clear, but this situation had proved again and again that he couldn’t be too careful. And it was driving him crazy, because he felt like he was missing pieces to a puzzle that he somehow found himself in the middle of.
“You think someone’s following us?” she asked, twisting to look out the rear window.