Page 70 of Deadly Lineage
“I feel okay. Nothing the soda I got won’t fix.” I glanced in the review mirror again. The SUV was still there, one car-length closer. “Hey, are you still at the precinct?”
“I am. Running down some loose ends. Why? You want to try and get dinner together tonight?”
“That sounds lovely, but actually, I was thinking something a little sooner than that.”
“Sooner?” Franklin asked. “Are you driving? Please tell me you’re at least using hands-free.”
“You can rest assured I’m being a very good driving citizen.” While I wasn’t holding my phone, I was currently leaning over the console and digging through my glove compartment. I hadn’t used the charm I was after since I was nineteen, maybe twenty. I’d begged Pops for it and he’d finally relented.
“Where the fuck is it?” I groaned, blindly tugging debris out of my glove compartment. Most of it landed on the passenger-side floor mat. I thought my registration and insurance were inthere somewhere. If only I were being followed by the cops and needed that information.
“Where’s what? What are you looking for, and why are you looking for it while you’re driving?” A semi blew past me, loud enough for Franklin to hear. “Are you on the interstate?”
“I am.” It came out more of a grunt than words. “I know it’s here.”
“Boone, what the hell is going on? If you don’t—”
“Ah-ha!” I triumphantly yelled as my fingers latched onto the familiar shape. It had been a few years since I’d used it, but I knew the texture better than the back of my hand.
“Boone, what—”
“Hold on a second.”
“Hold on? You’re the one that called me, and why do you sound out of breath?”
Poor Franklin. I really should have waited to call him. “I’ll tell you in a minute.” When Franklin started to say something again, I said, “I’m fine. Promise. I’ll explain everything soon. Hopefully, I’ll also have a license plate for you to look up.”
“Christ.” I could visualize Franklin scrubbing his palms over his face. “You’re killing me here.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I wasn’t sure if I was truly sorry or not. Was it selfish to be pleased that Franklin cared enough to be beside himself with worry? Probably. Did I care? Not enough to worry about it.
Okay, fuckers. Let’s see what you think about this.I searched the interstate, looking for my opening. I typically didn’t like sharing the road with this many semi-trailers, but today I wanted to hop out of my car and kiss each and every one of them. That probably wasn’t a safer alternative to whatever the guys following me wanted to do with me, though.
Weaving through traffic, I bolted into the left lane, skipped to the middle, back to the left, and then back to the middle, tucking in front of a semi hauling a wide load. It was perfect camouflage.
“Boone. It’s been more than a few fucking minutes.” Franklin’s angry voice reminded me I still had him on the line. “I’m about ready to track your damn cell phone, hop in my car, and track your ass down.”
“While that sounds positively, stalkerishly romantic, I think I’ll pass. Really, just a couple more minutes.” I inhaled and silently hoped the charm still worked. Pressing my finger into its side, the charm soaked in my DNA and flared to life. “Gray,” I said and felt Pops’s magic wash over my vehicle. I grinned before easing my way into the right-hand lane, falling in behind a red Subaru.
The right lane was going far slower than the middle and left lanes and the vehicles in those lanes passed us by, including the SUV that had been following me.
“You still with me, Franklin?”
“Where the fuck else would I be?” Franklin typically cursed, but this was excessive. He must really be worried.
I let that thought warm my insides as I pulled back into the middle lane and chased down my prey. I was careful not to appear too eager. Pops’s charm didn’t change the make and model of my car, just the color. If they looked closely enough, there was a chance they’d figure it out.
It was difficult, but I got close enough to get a plate number and rattled it off to Franklin. “You got that?” I asked.
He answered by repeating it back to me.
“Bingo.” I grinned and slowed my pace, falling back and getting off at the nearest exit. “Score one for teenage vanity.”
Franklin’s heavy sigh echoed through my car. “I don’t even want to know whatteenage vanityhas to do with this—whatever the hellthiseven is.”
“I’ll explain it when I see you,” I answered breezily, far too pleased with myself.
“And when, pray tell, will that be?”
