Chapter Five

Declan’s back stiffened, and his blood turned to ice. “Who’s hurting LaLa, Jamal?”

“I don’t know,” he cried in a whisper. “She was screaming, and then there was a loud bang—oh no, he’s coming back. I have to go.”

“Jamal, wait! Do not hang up yet. Are you safe?”

“Yes. I’m in my secret room.”

Jamal had told him all about the hidden space inside his closet that LaTonya had constructed for him, and he’d sent pictures of the cozy nook. “Good. Stay there and don’t make a sound. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hung up and called information for Detroit’s police department emergency number. After checking LaTonya’s address on his phone, he dialed the number and sent the police to the address. Detroit was approximately two hundred and fifty miles away, give or take. The drive would be around four hours and twenty minutes if he drove non-stop. He could cut that down to an hour and fifteen if he flew. Plane it was.

As he squealed out of the parking lot, he dialed Eric with a voice command. When his brother answered, he quickly explained Jamal’s phone call and his last-minute trip to Detroit. Eric told him to keep in touch and let him know what happened as soon as possible. Eric called back five minutes later.

“I booked you on the last flight out of Chicago to Detroit tonight. I’ve sent the boarding pass to your phone. It leaves in half an hour.” Eric rattled off the airline and terminal number. He committed it to memory.

“Thanks, bro. I owe you big.”

“Just be careful.”

The trip to the airport was faster than usual with the light traffic. He hoped like hell he didn’t get caught up in security. Traveling without luggage might set off red flags. Though he had a bag of clothes in the back of his truck, he didn’t want to take the time to grab it. Getting to Jamal was all that mattered.

He parked in short-term parking and took off for the terminal at a run. Luck was on his side as he made it through the screening process and arrived at the gate as they were boarding.

A redheaded flight attendant greeting the passengers smiled at him and batted her excessively long lashes seductively. “I’ve got an extra seat in first class.”

He gladly accepted her offer. It meant getting off the plane faster. He smiled his thanks and dropped into the leather seat. At any other time, he’d have flirted shamelessly with her, maybe gotten her number so they could hook up on her next trip to Chicago. But his heart wasn’t in it. That organ currently resided deep in the pit of his stomach.

#

A noise jerked Kenzie awake—or the lack of any more accurately. She slept with a sound machine cranked on high to drown out the city commotion. She’d started the habit while living in New York, where the cacophony of cars and horns and sirens at all hours of the night conspired to keep her from getting any rest. She didn’t need the machine here, as the area around Franny’s condo was peaceful and quiet, but she’d grown used to the steady hum. She’d grown used to the city racket, too, and could sleep through a bomb blast.

Her senses felt out of whack. The silence was almost deafening, and the room was bathed in total darkness. That’s when she realized the power was out. She’d experienced several blackouts in Manhattan, so it wasn’t anything new. Sometimes she was able to go back to sleep. Other times, it would take hours or until the power was restored.

An engine started up outside, and then tires screeched as it peeled away. This was an upscale neighborhood. She couldn’t imagine kids out for a joy ride randomly ending up here.

Tossing back the covers, she hurried to the window in time to see a black four-door sedan speed out of the parking lot—at least she assumed it was black, judging from the glow of streetlights. It was definitely a dark color. Clouds obscured the moon, and it was too far away to read the license plate. She wouldn’t be able to describe it since she was terrible with the car brands.

She started to turn away when her head snapped back to the window. Why were the streetlights on in a blackout? She glanced at the building across the road. Lights shined from two different windows. She checked the other condos in the area, and they, too, were illuminated. That meant the power was only out in her condo. That was strange. Could an animal have chewed through wires or something? If so, she’d talk to LaTonya about hiring an exterminator.

She probably needed to notify the power company, but she didn’t know what number to call. As she reached for her cell on the floor beside the mattress, the acrid scent of smoke drifted to her. A fire, not rodents, caused the blackout. Panic had her dressing quickly and tossing her computer into her messenger bag, which also served as her purse. After sliding on her running shoes, she secured the strap over her head and grabbed her phone. She tapped the flashlight app and used it to guide her from the bedroom. The smoke thickened when she stepped into the hall. The detectors weren’t going off, so they must be hard-wired into the electrical system. Pretty big system flaw if you asked her.

When she made it outside into the fresh air, she glanced back at the house to see flames shooting from the roof. She dialed 9-1-1 while watching for LaTonya and Jamal to exit. LaTonya’s car was in the lot, so they were home. When the operator answered, she gave the address and told the woman that the building was on fire. The woman instructed her to stay on the line, but Kenzie hung up and rushed to LaTonya’s door. Maybe they were sound asleep. She jabbed the bell and knocked, but no one answered. She ran around the back to the patio, and her steps faltered. Glass littered the ground from the shattered sliding glass door, where smoke poured out. Covering her mouth, she stepped over the shards and headed for the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. The house had been ransacked. Cushions had been torn apart, pictures were ripped from the walls, and furniture overturned. Her gaze zeroed in on a woman lying unmoving on the floor.

“LaTonya!” She rushed to her friend, her feet skidding in the pool of blood that had formed beneath her body. She knew LaTonya was dead without checking. She had been beaten and battered, but the neat round hole between her open eyes had ended her life.

Stifling a sob, she stood and snapped a picture with her phone. She would never look at it again, but she needed to let the cops know LaTonya had been murdered if the house burned down. Someone needed to pay for killing one of the nicest women Kenzie had ever met.

Her eyes were watering, but she had to check on Jamal. She took the steps two at a time. The smoke was so thick she could barely see where she was going. She’d pulled her T-shirt over her nose and mouth to block some of the smoke from entering her lungs. She came to Jamal’s room first, and if the downstairs was a mess, his room had been destroyed. She was afraid to go inside. If she found his little body broken, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

“Jamal? It’s Kenzie. Are you in here?”

When there was no response, she took a tentative step inside and shined her flashlight around the destruction. She didn’t see him, so she beelined for the closet and knocked on the secret door.

“Jamal? Are you in there?”

“Kenzie?”

The small voice had a sob tearing from her throat. “Jamal, we need to get out of here.”

The door opened, and his head popped out. His eyes were wide and frightened. She held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

He clutched it greedily, and she practically jerked his arm from the socket and sprinted for the steps as a part of the ceiling behind them collapsed. Jamal screamed, but she didn’t slow down to comfort him. The front door was closer, but that meant they’d have to pass LaTonya’s body. She tried to shield her from Jamal’s view as she unbolted the locks and whipped it open, sucking in the clean, fresh air. Thankfully, Jamal didn’t see his aunt lying dead on the floor.

She turned to him. “Are you—”

The sound of something whizzing by her head had her tackling Jamal to the ground with her. Someone was shooting at them. “Stay down.” She half-ran, half-crawled to LaTonya’s car, dragging Jamal with her as two more gunshots sounded, one taking out the back window. They covered their heads and huddled together as pieces of glass rained down. Her heart was beating so fast, her head spun.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the shooting stopped, but they weren’t out of the woods. She needed to ensure the shooters were gone, so she pushed to a crouch and slowly peered over the car. Something threw her off balance, and she screamed as she teetered backward until she landed hard on her behind.

“Kenzie!” Jamal cried as a man dragged him along the sidewalk by his arm.

Shiloh Storm overtook her body. With a feral scream, she launched at the man and leaped on his back like a demented circus monkey, wrapping her arms around his beefy neck. She’d break it if she had to.

“What the hell?” He released Jamal and stumbled forward until he fell to his hands and knees, letting out a string of violent curses. “Get off me, bitch, so that I can kill you.”

The blessed sound of sirens wailed in the distance. Help was finally on the way.

With a roar, the man ripped her arms from around his neck and tossed her off him like an unwanted cape. She landed hard on her backside again and winced. A door slammed, and the smell of burning rubber mingled with the smoke from the fire. She popped up in time to see the same black sedan as earlier peeling out of the lot, but not before the man squeezed off several more shots. With an un-Storm-like squeak, she dove to the ground next to Jamal. When no more shouts sounded, she lifted her head.

“Are you—”

She didn’t get the words out before the ground shook and an explosion rippled through the air. The heat was intense as she rolled over Jamal to cover him from any flying debris. When nothing pelted her, she glanced over her shoulder to see LaTonya’s car in flames. If they’d stayed where they were a minute ago, they’d have been incinerated. What was happening here?

Lifting her weight off him, she clutched Jamal’s shoulders. Tear tracks cut through the soot on his adorable face. “Are you hurt?”

“No, but we have to go back for Aunt LaLa. She’s still inside.”

Kenzie grabbed his arm when he scrambled to the burning building, jerking him to a stop. How on earth was she supposed to tell a young boy that his beloved aunt was dead?

His shoulders slumped, and he slowly turned to her. “She’s dead, isn’t she? They killed her.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and she nodded. She tugged him into her arms and held him as his little body racked with sobs. He suddenly stiffened. “I have to go back!” He tore out of her arms again. She lurched up and managed to snag the back of his shirt before he could rush back into the flames.

“Jamal, no. There’s nothing we can do for her.”

“Let go! You don’t understand!” he wailed before crumpling to the ground. “I left my phone. I don’t have any way for Declan to find me.”

#

Kenzie tried to comfort Jamal, but he was inconsolable. She didn’t have any younger siblings, and she hadn’t been around many kids, so she wasn’t sure how to make him feel better. Right now, she didn’t think there was anything that could ease his pain, except for his friend Declan, whom he obviously adored. From what Jamal told her about him, he was a cross between Superman, The Incredible Hulk, and Captain America all rolled into one. No one could live up to that hype, she was sure.

Declan wasn’t here, so she was Jamal’s only source of support for now. She let him cry on her shoulder as they sat on the curb and waited for the first responders to arrive. She also kept an eye out in case the black sedan made a return visit. If they made a grab for Jamal again, they’d have to go through her first.

Red and white lights lit up the night as firetrucks roared into the parking lot, their sirens abruptly cutting off. Soon it was a frenzy of activity as hoses were dragged out and attached to hydrants, radios squawked, and men and women in turnout gear hurried to dowse the flames. Neighbors from surrounding condos huddled in groups to watch the action.

Two police cars arrived, followed by an unmarked car and an ambulance. The medics scurried over and performed a cursory exam on each of them. The woman who took Kenzie’s blood pressure offered a ride to the hospital to be checked for smoke inhalation, but she declined. Jamal wasn’t showing any symptoms, and though her throat was scratchy, her breathing was fine.

One of the firefighters approached her. “Is this your condo, ma’am?”

“Half of it.”

“Anyone inside.”

“Yes…no.” She patted Jamal’s knee. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

She stepped away so Jamal wouldn’t overhear the conversation. He didn’t need reminders of what he’d lost tonight. Digging her phone from her pocket, she scrolled to the picture of LaTonya but quickly looked away. “There’s a woman inside, but she was murdered before the fire started.” She turned her phone to allow him to view the screen. He took it from her hand and studied it with narrowed brows.

“You knew her?”

“Yes. That’s her nephew.” She pointed to Jamal. “He lived with her.”

“Hold on, let me get a detective over here.” He handed her back the phone as he spoke into a mic attached to his coat, and soon a tall man with black hair and a brown-haired woman a foot shorter approached.

The man spoke first. “I’m Detective Fuller.” He indicated the woman next to him. “My partner, Detective Lyons. The Fire Chief said something about a murder?”

Kenzie showed them the picture.

Detective Fuller’s lips tightened. “Start at the beginning and tell us everything.”

She described how she’d woken up when the power went out and then heard the car leave the parking lot before smelling smoke. After explaining her trip next door and stumbling over LaTonya’s body, she detailed their escape outside, only to be shot at by the people in the black sedan and then a man trying to kidnap Jamal before LaTonya’s car exploded.

Wow, listening to herself recall the events made it seem surreal, like a plot she’d read in one of her author’s thrillers. Not something that happened in real life—certainly not hers.

Detective Lyons studied the picture from Kenzie’s cell. She looked up and pinned her with an accusing glare. “You live next door, and you didn’t hear the gunshot?”

She winced. That did sound bad. “This is…was my aunt’s condominium. She recently passed away. I’m in town to clear it out to put it on the market.” She glanced over at the blackened rubble and realized she wouldn’t need to list the condo anymore. It was gone, along with the keepsakes she’d set aside to remember Franny. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she continued. “I live in Manhattan, and I sleep with a machine to drown out the city sounds. I’ve grown used to loud noises.”

“Kenzie?”

Jamal came up to her, looking so sad and lost. She hugged him to her side. Detective Fuller crouched down. “Jamal, I’m sorry about your aunt.” Jamal studied the ground and nodded. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

He hitched a shoulder. “I guess.”

“Do you know who did this?”

He shook his head.

“Has anyone caused you any trouble recently?”

“Bobby Watkins.”

“What did he do?”

“He took the Legos at the first break, even though he knew it was my turn.”

Kenzie tried to smile, but it wobbled as tears gathered in her eyes. He was so young and innocent. LaTonya had told her about his past, and she knew he’d had a rough first few years of life. That he was so loving and gentle was miraculous, and she hoped he never changed.

Detective Fuller smiled too. “That wasn’t nice of Bobby. What about any trouble at home? Was there someone bothering your aunt?”

“If there was, she didn’t tell me.”

“No unexpected visitors or strange phone calls?”

He shook his head.

“Can you tell me what happened tonight? Start at the beginning when you knew there was trouble.”

Kenzie hadn’t had a chance to ask him, so this was new information for her too. She clutched him tighter to let him know he wasn’t alone.

“I was asleep in my bed. Aunt LaLa woke me up and told me to get inside my hidden room. I could hear someone yelling and banging on the door. Then glass shattered.”

Detective Lyons eyed Kenzie critically again like she should’ve heard the racket. Kenzie just shrugged.

Jamal told them his aunt screamed, and then a man came into his room, calling his name before tearing it apart. Then he heard the gunshot. Apparently, she could sleep through anything if that didn’t wake her.

“Hidden room?” Detective Fuller posed his question to Kenzie. Though she knew Jamal needed the hideout for safety, she told the detectives his aunt had it constructed as a secret fort, not wanting Jamal to feel embarrassed.

“What about the man who tried to grab you?” Detective Lyons asked. “You said he knew your name. Did you recognize him?”

Jamal shook his head.

“Can you describe him? Height, weight, race, tattoos or scars?”

“No. It was too dark. I didn’t see his face.” He dropped his gaze to the ground. “My eyes were closed.”

“What about you, Ms. Bryant? Can you describe him to a sketch artist?”

“I didn’t see his face, either, but he was about five-ten, medium build. He wore a hoodie so that I couldn’t tell the color of his hair or his race.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful.”

Kenzie didn’t miss the sarcasm in the woman’s voice. She realized she’d described half of Detroit’s male population, but she couldn’t give details she didn’t have.

She glanced up at what was left of the condo, and her heart ached. It was almost burned to the ground—a total loss. Things could be replaced, but Jamal lost his beloved aunt. She prayed they’d be able to retrieve LaTonya’s body so she could have a proper burial and Jamal could say goodbye.

Another man arrived wearing a suit, and even without a police uniform or badge, she recognized the authority in his bearing and steady gaze. Detective Fuller introduced him as the deputy police chief. He wanted to hear the story from her, but Jamal was wearing down. She didn’t want him to relive the nightmare again, so Kenzie asked if he could lie down in one of the police cars.

After she settled him in the back seat of Detective Fuller’s car, she noticed a van parked close to the action. Two people in hazmat suits headed for the fire chief. They must be the ones who would comb the rubble for LaTonya’s remains.

She retold the story to the deputy police chief. He’d asked dozens of questions, and by the time dawn colored the sky in shades of pink and blue, exhaustion weighed down on her until she didn’t think she could stand any longer. The flames had long been extinguished, and most fire trucks had left. Two stayed behind to monitor the smoke drifting up from the embers, and the van was still there. Either they hadn’t found LaTonya, or it’d been too hot to search.

Pulling her gaze away, she focused on the deputy chief. “We’re tired. Can we come to the station later today to finish answering questions?”

The man took pity on them. “Sure.”

Detective Fuller handed her his card. “I should be there any time in the afternoon.”

She went to retrieve Jamal, but he was already heading her way. “You ready to get out of here?”

“No, we can’t leave,” he insisted. “Declan will be here any minute.”

“You have someone coming for you?” Detective Fuller asked.

Jamal bobbed his head. “My best friend, Declan Elliot.”

“How old is your friend?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Old. Maybe Kenzie’s age.”

Kenzie shot a sardonic look at Jamal. Old?

The detective had the decency to hide his laugh behind his hand. He cleared his throat, but a smile still lingered on his lips. “Where are you staying tonight, or I guess I should say today? If Mr. Elliot shows up, I’ll send him there once I verify his identity.”

She hadn’t even thought about a place to sleep. They needed to hit a discount store for necessary supplies and then grab something to eat. “Hang on a second.” She found the number for a chain motel and called for a reservation. After giving Fuller the motel’s name and promising to visit the station later, she loaded Jamal into her rental car and headed for a department store. Kenzie caught her reflection in the doors as they approached and gasped. She beelined for the bathrooms and checked to make sure the women’s room was empty before toting Jamal inside with her to wash the soot off their hands and faces as much as possible. They both reeked of smoke, but that couldn’t be helped.

They sped through the clothing aisles, picking up shirts, pants, and underwear for both of them. As long as they fit, she didn’t care how they looked. She tossed a backpack into the cart, and then they raided the toiletry aisles for toothbrushes, toothpaste, and other necessities.

Once they were back in the car, she made Jamal sit in the back and buckle up. On the way to the motel, she passed an all-night diner and turned into the vacant lot. She wasn’t hungry, but they needed to eat to keep up their energy.

A bell dinged over the door when they entered. A sign instructed them to seat themselves, so she picked out a booth by the window. There was only one occupied table across the room. The server looked bored as she made a pot of coffee. She spotted them and trudged over with a notepad and pen. “What can I get you to drink?”

Jamal ordered orange juice, and that sounded good for her scratchy throat. “Same for me.”

Though they visited the restroom in the department store to wipe off the soot, she didn’t use the facilities. The urge hit her, so she said, “I’m going to the bathroom. Pick out anything you want on the menu. I’ll be right back.”

#

Jamal watched Kenzie disappear into the door marked Ladies before he scanned the items on the menu. His stomach felt squishy, so he wasn’t sure he could eat. Maybe some macaroni and cheese if they would let him order it for breakfast. Even the thought of his favorite food didn’t excite him. Aunt LaLa made the best mac and cheese from scratch. He would sit at the bar in the kitchen and watch so he could make it himself someday when he was old enough to use the stove. He would sneak pieces of Velveeta when she wasn’t looking, but she always caught him, and then they would laugh as she stole a chunk too.

A scary thought struck. Who would make him dinner now? Who would he live with? The sickly feeling in his stomach intensified. What if he had to go back and live with his mom in the crummy, rat-infested apartment with strange men coming over at all hours of the night? Jamarcus’s friends still lived there. What if, like Jamarcus, they tried to force him to join their gang? How would he be able to resist so much pressure? He didn’t want to be a part of their mean group. They stole things and hurt people.

His heart started to pound. He couldn’t do it. He’d gotten away once. If he got to pick, he wanted to live with Declan. Peyton would probably let him stay with her, but she lived with Noah now. They might not want him getting in their way. Would Declan let him stay with him?

The bench cushion deflated as someone slid into the booth beside him. “Hey, Jamal.” His head whipped to the speaker. “Fancy running into you here, kid. How’s it going?”

Jamal shrank back from the smirking man with a shaved head. He had big, round rings in his ear lobes that stretched them out, and his face and neck were covered with tattoos, including an eight and a six beneath his right eye. The Eighty-Sixers. His brother’s old gang. He didn’t know any of their real names, only nicknames. They called this man Boomer.

“What are you doing here?” Jamal’s eyes darted around the empty diner, looking for Kenzie or anyone to help. The people in the booth across the room had left. Where was the server? His eyes widened when he recognized the man blocking the ladies’ room door, with Kenzie inside. Blaze.

Boomer tapped the table in front of him to get his attention. “We came to check on you, little brother. To see how you’re doing after Trigger’s unfortunate passing.” It wasn’t hard to figure out why they’d given Jamarcus that nickname since he’d even tried to shoot his own brother. “Damn, we sure miss him.” He looked sad for a second, but then his face brightened. “But we have you to replace him.”

The urge to run was strong. He had to get away from these two men. Boomer said they wanted him to take his brother’s place in the gang. “I’ve got to go.” He was about to climb under the table to get away when Boomer clutched his arm in a punishing grip.

“Not so fast, you little brat. You’re not getting away that easily this time. You’re coming with me.”

Jamal dug in his heels. “No, I’m not. Let me go.” He struggled against Boomer’s hold, but it did no good. He was too strong and easily hauled him out of the diner. His feet could barely keep up.

He was going to die.

#

Kenzie splashed water over her face. Her eyes were gritty, and her lungs felt heavy from inhaling smoke. They probably should’ve made the trip to the emergency room to be checked out, but she was glad the paramedics didn’t insist. They would have if they thought either she or Jamal needed to go. After a shower and sleep, she’d feel better.

Everything still seemed surreal. Having her aunt’s house burn down, finding her friend’s murdered body, and being shot at and almost incinerated wasn’t something that happened every day. As an editor of mystery fiction, she’d read her share of stories with similar plot lines, never dreaming she’d be smack in the middle of one.

After washing her hands, she tossed the paper towel in the bin and adjusted the messenger bag with her computer over her shoulder. She could’ve left it in the rental car or locked it in the trunk, but she felt safer having it with her. Kenzie grabbed the handle to exit, but the door didn’t budge. She tried again, but it wouldn’t move. It felt like something had been jammed under the knob.

She pounded on the door. “Hello? Is someone out there? I’m locked inside.”

Kenzie hoped the server would hear her pleas and rescue her, but no one came. She tried again, knocking harder this time, to no avail.

Fear coasted down her spine. The fire wasn’t random. Someone had killed LaTonya and tried to grab Jamal. She clutched the knob and jerked with all her might, but it wouldn’t move. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “WWSD,” she muttered. What would Storm do?

Her eyes snapped open, and she glanced at the window above the sink. It wasn’t large but big enough for her to squeeze through. She climbed onto the counter and gasped when her foot slid in a patch of hand soap, almost sending her tumbling backward to the black and white linoleum floor. After righting herself, she reached up and jiggled the latch. The window squeaked open, and she popped out the screen. Storm would leap effortlessly through the opening, land on her feet, and hit the ground running. Kenzie’s exit wasn’t as graceful. She grabbed the edges and boosted herself out. The drop was about eight feet, but there were bushes below to cushion her fall. Without giving herself time to think, she launched out headfirst, using one arm to secure her computer against her side. She twisted in mid-air so that her back hit the bush first. Years of gymnastics as a child had paid off. Her eyes crossed as thousands of tiny pinpricks poked against her skin when she landed on the evergreen, but she ignored the pain. Hopping to her feet, she reached into her bag as she bolted for the car. A glance at the diner had her running faster. A bald man was dragging Jamal out of the booth. She popped the lock, opened the door, and dove inside to start the engine. She backed out and waited for the man to come outside with Jamal, only he wasn’t alone. A redheaded man followed them out.

Gunning the accelerator, she headed for the man not clutching Jamal. When he spun around at the sound of her approaching, she slammed on the brakes and whipped her door open, nailing him in the midsection. Total Storm move. The impact sent him hurtling across the pavement. The gun he’d been holding skittered across the ground, and his head impacted with the concrete. Lights out. The man with Jamal whirled around at the commotion. Jamal used his distraction to jab a fork into his leg. The man howled in pain and went down on one knee, gripping his injured thigh. Jamal raced to the car.

Kenzie jumped out and scooped the gun off the pavement. “Hurry.” She practically tossed Jamal into the passenger seat and scrambled after him. “Belt up.” She slammed the door, shifted into drive, and floored the accelerator again to squeal out of the parking lot. After checking to ensure she wasn’t being followed, she slowed down. Her hands shook like a sapling in a hurricane. She realized she had a death grip on the gun and carefully slid it into the compartment on the door. Firearms didn’t scare her. She was licensed and practiced at a range in the city. But there was a vast difference between shooting the daylights out of a paper target and pulling the trigger on a living, breathing human. She wasn’t sure she could do it.

Once her pulse slowed, she glanced at Jamal. He looked dazed. She reached over and clasped his hand. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Then he smiled. “You were awesome! Man, Blaze went flying like a frisbee. Where did you learn to do that?”

She shrugged. “Instinct.” And police dramas when she had the time to watch television. “And you were the awesome one. How did you think of taking the fork for a weapon?”

“Survival,” he said nonchalantly, and her heart broke for the life he must’ve lived before moving in with his aunt…who was now dead. Oh, Jamal.

She swung into the parking lot of a strip mall and shifted into park. She needed to call the police, tell them about the attempted abduction, and have them check on the diner personnel if they’d been harmed. She wanted to believe they’d have helped a small boy being abducted otherwise. She dug her phone from her bag and groaned. The battery was dead, and she didn’t have a car charger with her. Phone calls would have to wait until they were at the motel. She placed the bag on the back floorboard and shifted into drive, waiting for the traffic to clear before turning onto the street.

“You called the man I struck Blaze. Did you recognize them?”

“Yeah, Blaze and Boomer. I don’t know their real names.”

“How do you know them?”

“They’re Eighty-Sixers.”

She glanced at him as she braked at a red light. “What’s an eighty-sixer?”

“My brother’s gang.”

“Those two are gang members?” At his nod of confirmation, she swallowed heavily. Taking on two random strangers was one thing, but a gang was a whole new ballgame she wasn’t equipped to handle. “Do you know what they want?”

“Yeah. Me.”

#

Tears rolled down Luis Gomez’s face as he clutched his damaged leg and moaned in pain. The little punk had nailed him good with the fork. It was currently sticking out of his leg like a harpoon in a whale’s blubber. With a shaking hand, he clutched the shaft and yanked it out, letting out a shriek when the tines parted ways with his flesh. Blood spurted, and he slammed a hand over the gash. Nausea churned in his belly, and it was all he could do to avoid barfing up his guts. He hoped Blaze had grabbed the kid while he’d been incapacitated.

“You have him, Blaze?” His question was met with silence. He cracked one eyelid to see Blaze laid out flat on the pavement like roadkill. No kid in sight. She-it.

He struggled to his feet and lifted his hand from the wound. Lots of blood. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get tetanus or something. The muscles in his leg didn’t want to work properly as he stumbled over to Blaze’s prone form. He kicked at him with his good leg.

“Get up, idiot. We lost the kid.”

Blaze didn’t move.

Luis’s head jerked up. A siren wailed in the distance. “Double damn.”

Dragging his wounded leg, he half hobbled, half ran to the car, and slid inside, roaring in pain when he inadvertently slammed his injured leg into the steering wheel. He let out a string of colorful curses as he turned the key. They needed to ghost before the fuzz arrived. They couldn’t afford to get tossed in the slammer. The Eighty-Sixers couldn’t withstand two more losses. The latest gang war had decimated their numbers. They’d lost fourteen when the Daggers invaded their turf and opened fire. The Daggers only lost twelve men that day. The Eighty-Sixers were strong, and they were resilient. They’d rebuild. They’d be a leaner, meaner group this time around.

Razor, their leader, had been one of the casualties, though his body had never been found. He’d been shot—Luis saw it with his own eyes—but he disappeared and never resurfaced. They searched for a couple of weeks, and when it was clear he wasn’t coming back, they moved forward without him. They needed a new boss, and Luis planned on stepping into the role. He disagreed with the way Razor ran things, especially the trust he placed in Trigger, Jamal’s older brother Jamarcus. Luis would lead his own way, and if he was more ruthless and brutal, so be it. It was time for a new regime. He had no problem taking out a kid. First, they needed to track him down again and make him talk. Jamarcus screwed them over big-time. Since he was now worm food, it was up to his brother to pay for the crimes.

Shifting into reverse, he shot backward, almost rolling over Blaze’s legs with the back tire. Serve the bastard right for getting himself knocked out. This was all his fault, anyway. If he hadn’t been so eager to set the woman’s condo on fire, they might’ve found Jamal sooner and been on their way back to Chicago. But fire to Blaze was like crack to a druggie. He’d held out as long as he could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long enough to get the job done. They’d moved on to Plan B, only that one hadn’t worked out so well, either. Now they needed to come up with a Plan C. Third time’s a charm and all that.

Lurching out of the car, he kept weight off his throbbing leg and opened the back door. Shoving his hands under Blaze’s shoulders, he drug, pushed, and stuffed him into the back seat. He was sweating by the time he crammed him inside enough to close the door. Breath sawed in and out of his lungs, and he felt his heartbeat in his leg. That couldn’t be good. Returning to the driver’s seat, he floored the gas and was out of the parking lot before the first cop arrived.