Page 75 of Retaliation

Without any sign of protest, he handed it over after unlocking it with his fingerprint. She punched in her number and waited for her phone to ring. She hung up and handed it back to him.

“In case I need to get a hold of you.” She shrugged

and pulled out her phone, saving his number.

She shoved her phone back into her pocket, her fingers grazing over the napkin Gavin had stuffed into her hand. Retrieving it, she stared at his number.

“Go check up on your friend,” Gunnar ushered.

“You might want to get your man from the Grave bar. I’ll let Marty know he can release him.”

Gunnar cocked a brow but thanked her. With a grateful smile, she turned on her heel and sprinted to her bike. She only stopped long enough at her bike to text Cat to release the captive and let Skel know she’ll be back in a bit. She was about to get onto her bike when she decided to call Gavin first, hoping Reaper was bluffing. She dialed the number, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Hi, Gav. This is Minke. Please let me know as soon as you get this.” She hung up and got on her bike.

The bike’s engine roared to life, and she sped away, heading back to the diner.

Her heart sank when she saw the khaki Jeep parked down the block. She hated herself for being so fixated on the drunk bastards that she hadn’t noticed it. Gavin had left the diner just after eleven. She checked her watch—that was four hours ago.

TWENTY SIX

She knew it was a long shot, but she still stopped in front of the alley, hoping to find Reaper so that she could question him. But he wasn’t there. Nor was the drunk he had killed. She knew not to overthink it. The Mafia had a way of finding out about things like this and handling it discreetly.

Pulling out her phone, she tried to call Gavin’s cell again, the light blinding in the darkened alley. But once again, she was answered by his voicemail.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath and decided to check out his Jeep.

Hopefully, there was some clue as to where she could find him. Leaving her bike, she walked down the deserted street. She shook off the feeling of being watched as she closed in on the vehicle. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached Gavin’s Jeep, the darkness of the street enveloping her. She ignored the chill that crept up her spine, focusing instead on the task at hand.

As she neared the vehicle, her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. The Jeep rocked ominously on its axle. Without hesitation, she rushed to it, her hands trembling as she tried to peer through the tinted windows, but she couldn’t see anything inside.

With a sharp exhale, she moved to the rear door and pulled at the handle, desperation clawing at her chest. The door creaked open, but no more than an inch. Something was preventing it from opening. Hurrying to the passenger side, she yanked the door open, revealing Gavin bound and gagged in the back seat.

A surge of panic coursed through her veins as she took in his helpless form. His hands, handcuffed to the door handle, was why the door wouldn’t open. His left eye sported hues of black and purple and was completely swollen shut. Without a second thought, she climbed over him, her mind racing.

With trembling hands, she reached for him, her fingers fumbling with the knots of the gag. Her heart pounded in her chest as she worked frantically, her ragged breaths filling the air.

Finally, with a gasp of relief, she managed to remove the gag. Gavin slumped forward, his good eye wide with shock and gratitude.

“Minke, thank God you’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling with emotion.

She offered him a reassuring smile, though her own nerves were still on edge.

“We need to get out of here,” she urged, scanning the street for any sign of danger. “How the fuck are we going to remove those cuffs?”

“There’s a spare set of keys in the glove compartment,” Gavin answered, nodding toward the front of the Jeep.

Scrambling out of the confined back seat, she stumbled to the passenger side, kneeled on the front seat, and opened the glove compartment.

“Minke, wait.”

She didn’t. Driven by the fear that Reaper could return, she reached in, her fingers folding around cold metal.

“Let me explain,” Gavin pleaded, struggling against his restraints.

Poison stared at the police badge in her hand. Shit, shit, shit. This was all such a colossal fuckup. She got a cop involved.

“You’re a cop?” she demanded, spinning in her seat to look for some explanation in his face—some other excuse as to why he had a badge in his car.

---