Page 157 of Strays
I lock eyes with her. “If anyone tips him that we’re coming,” I say quietly, “I don’t care who it is, I’ll chaseyoudown. And I’ll kill you myself.”
She starts to sob.
We turn away, heading straight to the garage. The Bronco is shot to hell, tires shredded, doors pocked with holes and windshield spider-webbed. No way it’ll get us to Harrison, so we’ll make do with whatever vehicle we find.
In the garage, we quickly assess our options: a matte black Audi Q7, a silver Mercedes GLE, a smaller Jaguar SUV, and a pearl-white Lexus LX 600, all lined up like showroom pieces.
On the wall there’s a steel key cabinet. Jay pops it open. Inside, four keys, each neatly labeled in sharp black marker: AUDI. GLE. JAG. LEXUS.
Shane shakes his head. “We’re not fitting in one.”
He’s right. No way we can cram three into one cabin. “Take one each,” I say. “Squeeze in however you can.”
Jay and Shane grab keys, and I take one too. It doesn’t matter which car, just needs to move.
Thirty-five minutes to Harrison.
Maybe less.
[Phone Call — September 04, 2025 — 08:52 PM]
John:She’s in the house. Sedated, no fuss.
Aranya:Perfect. I’d come by myself, but the move’s eating my hours. Pass along my regards when Gussy arrives.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
We Catch the Spider
North Harrison is the kind of industrial cut-through even GPS forgets. One cracked road, faded yellow lines, chain-link fences curling in on themselves like dead vines. No storefronts and no pedestrians.
And there it is. The warehouse.
Three stories of concrete and black mirrored windows with no name and no logo.
The parking lot is empty except for one gray sedan parked against the loading dock. Cheap model, nothing like the fancy ones Aranya had in his garage. The same kind of cars that were parked on our street watching our every move — Jo’s every move. I bet this one’s plate is cloned too.
We kill the engines and step out.
Shane breathes in first, his nostrils flaring. “A human inside. Male. He’s here.”
Both me and Jay sniff the air too. The woman didn’t lie; he’s alone. I’m surprised by his confidence. He’s bold, I’ll give him that, but this is a fucking dumb move for a man who’s been smart for so many years.
He truly thought he would take Jo and we wouldn’t come for him. That we would sit peacefully and wait for the legal procedures.
Jay tilts his head, listening. Then I hear it too: classical music, faintly bleeding through the walls.
So he’s relaxed, playing music while he packs. He must think he’s untouchable here, probably because this building has stayed invisible this whole time. We had an entire federal task force on him, and this address never came up. The FBI tore through his companies, his charities, and still missed this place.
We move silently and fast through the side entrance, rifles up.
The door is reinforced steel. There's a digital panel flush against the frame: magnetic lock, no keypad.
Jay runs his hand along the edge, already shaking his head. “Too clean. No way to pop it without tools.”
I nod once. “Then we break it.”
Shane steps forward, but before he kicks, we exchange a look. We know the moment he strikes, the fucker inside is going to know something’s wrong, so we have to move fast enough to keep him from calling for help.
