GetOn

by Regina Cole

  Mia nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Keeping up with that aftercare? Not picking at the crusties, are you?”

  Garrett shot Trent a glare when the moron had the nerve to snort. Didn’t he know what kind of danger they were in? It had been bad before Mia showed up, but now things were even dodgier.

  He stepped forward, schooling his features into a dark expression. “Sorry about this, she was supposed to keep out of the way.” He grabbed Mia’s arm and pulled her tight to his side.

  Trent kicked a piece of loose gravel from the patched blacktop beneath their feet. “We need to get a move on, man. I’ve got buyers waiting.”

  Giving up Mia’s presence as a lost cause, Garrett decided to forge ahead with his plan. “Listen, Red, we need a large amount of product, and we’re willing to pay. And we need it soon. If we can set up a supply with you, then we can keep these large customers on the hook. We’ll make money, you’ll make money—it’s a win-win.”

  Redmond stood up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. Garrett wasn’t intimidated. Red was probably packing, but so were he and Trent. The only thing that bothered him was Mia. She was unarmed, unprotected and probably completely confused at this point. He just prayed that she had enough sense to keep her mouth shut and not give Red any more reason to doubt them.

  Red lowered his brows slightly as he looked at Garrett. “I don’t know, man. I’m getting a weird vibe off you. You call us from out of nowhere—”

  “Dwight gave me the number,” Garrett countered.

  “Dwight or not, I think you might be up to something.” Redmond crossed the space that separated them in only two steps. “Your girl here, she’s got a mouth on her.”

  With a movement so fast it was nearly a blur, Redmond grabbed Mia’s arm and yanked her forward. Her startled yell was squelched by his hand over her mouth.

  “Let her go, Red.” Garrett pulled his piece from the holster beneath his arm, but Red had already done the same, training the pistol’s barrel at Mia’s head. Out of the corner of Garrett’s eye, he noted Trent’s gun was also at the ready.

  A standoff—and Mia was hostage.

  Of-fucking-course.

  “I don’t trust you, boys,” Redmond said, dragging Mia back a step. She struggled, but the man had arms like a professional wrestler. “I think you’re up to something. I think this little piece,” he grunted as Mia’s elbow connected with his belly, but didn’t let go, “is a mole. I don’t know if you’re cops or just jumped-up little pissants with hopes of getting a piece of the pie, but either way, it’s not going to work.”

  Redmond dragged Mia backward toward the alley’s entrance, where his pimped-out F-150 was waiting, engine idling. Garrett and Trent followed at a distance, their guns trained on Redmond.

  “Let her go right now, Redmond.” Garrett wasn’t sure how he was managing to stay so calm. Inside, he was screaming with rage, ready to rip this guy’s head off for daring to touch Mia. No matter how infuriating she was, she was his, and she was in danger.

  Never again. He’d sworn it. Never again.

  “I won’t kill you this time,” Redmond said. “But come after me again? We’re going to have problems, and your problem will be blood running down the pavement. Yours, his, hers—you get me?”

  He threw Mia aside and she hit the concrete block wall of the building with force. Redmond jammed his gun into his pocket, leapt into his truck and punched it down the alley and into the lot, tires squealing and smoking.

  Garrett yelled to Trent, “Take care of her!”

  He sprinted to his Escalade, adrenaline thrumming through his veins like angry fire. He jerked the door open and within seconds, he was chasing after Redmond.

  The trap had imploded. Redmond wasn’t going to lead them to Ford. And more than that, the bastard knew Mia.

  “Damn it!”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror just before he peeled out of the parking lot. Trent was quickly helping Mia to his car. He’d wanted to go to her, pick her up, make sure she was okay, but he needed to follow Redmond too.

  Ford could do much worse to Mia than Redmond had. Much, much worse.

  Garrett gripped the steering wheel harder as he ran a red light to keep up with the black pickup. This wasn’t about revenge anymore.

  This was about protecting the life he wanted. The woman he loved. The life that was fast becoming more important to him than his own.

  He had to bring Ford down so he could start living. With her. For her.

  The engine roared as he floored it. “You’re not getting away from me, asshole.” Garrett glared at the truck as it took a tight turn. He followed it easily. Redmond would pay for laying a hand on Mia. And then he’d give Garrett some information.

  Whether or not Garrett had to beat it out of him, he didn’t care. Redmond would talk, one way or the other. And then he’d apologize.

  The second race was only twenty-eight hours away, and if Garrett was right, someone was supposed to die there.

  He couldn’t give up. Not now. He was too close.

  And life was waiting on the other side.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gravel ground into Mia’s kneecaps. Shock and pain flooded her system as she tried like hell to figure out what had just happened. Redmond’s tires squealed and from somewhere behind her, Garrett’s voice rang out.

  “Take care of her!”

  Mia shoved off the ground, gasping as the pain in her shoulder finally registered. That big redheaded asshole had thrown her right into the wall.

  She caught a glimpse of Garrett’s SUV as he tore out of the parking lot. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. And with the dark tinting on the Escalade windows, she couldn’t even see him.

  Trent was helping her into a classy but subtle BMW 645i. She couldn’t really acknowledge him. She was too busy trying to process the fact that Garrett had gone after Redmond alone.

  “Mia, are you okay?” Trent looked her over, being careful of her scraped knees and sore shoulder.

  “No, I’m not okay,” Mia said, anger and anguish battling for the upper hand. “He’s gone, Trent! Redmond is dangerous, and Garrett just charged after him by himself.” She threw her hands in the air, frustrated. “I don’t know what to do. I had a gun to my head and he left. And I can’t help him, Trent, I can’t do anything. He should have stayed with us. Is revenge really the most important thing to him? I’d thought…well, I’d hoped…”

  Trent’s dark brows narrowed in concern. “It’s not like that, Mia. You should know that. Garrett—”

  “Garrett wants nothing in the world more than Art Ford. I know that, you know that. And he wants Ford because of Priscilla.” Her voice filled with tears, and she hated them. At the moment, she hated Garrett for putting them there. “I know he cares about me. But he’d still rather die for her than live for me.”

  Trent didn’t answer, but from the way he looked blankly out the window, Mia knew she was right. She hated that too.

  “I’m sorry to ask you this,” Mia said, glancing out over the nearly empty parking lot, “but I don’t want to be alone right now. I need to get back to Garrett’s house and get my shit. Would you mind taking me?”

  Trent nodded. “Of course. None of this is your fault.” He gestured the way Garrett had gone. “I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking, going after Redmond on his own, but there’s no way I’ll be able to catch them.”

  He waited until she had buckled herself in before starting the car. Once the electronic beep had sounded, signaling the ignition, Trent looked over at her. “I’m going to be really honest with you here. This is bad.”

  Mia winced. “I know, and it’s all my fault. I didn’t get here fast enough to warn you.”

  “I wasn’t talking about back there. I was talking about Garrett.” Trent put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space. “He’s been acting differently lately. Desperate. Rash. Almost as if he can’t wait to throw himself at things.”

&
nbsp; Mia looked into her lap, rubbing at the spots on her white shorts. Must have happened when she fell. “When did this start?”

  Trent gave her a glance before pulling out onto Lipscombe Road. “Right after he met you.”

  Her mouth opened in shock. “Then it is my fault, right?”

  “That’s not what I mean. You didn’t know Garrett before. He used to be like that. Eager, motivated, kind of daring even. Then Priscilla got killed, and ever since then, he went about things completely differently. He was cold, detached, not emotionally invested in anyone or anything. He cares about me and the guys, of course, but even friendship didn’t touch him.” Trent blew through a yellow light, speeding up a little on the straightaway. The powerful engine thrummed beneath her. “And now, it’s almost like he’s been woken up. He’s making some mistakes, but even so, seeing him actually feeling, actually living? It’s a good thing. But he’s not thinking clearly, and that’s dangerous.”

  “Living won’t be such a good thing if he gets his ass killed,” Mia muttered as she stared out the window. Damn, the trees were moving past them faster and faster. She looked at Trent. His face was dead serious and his gaze kept flicking to the rearview mirror.

  “Trent, what’s going on?”

  “We’re being followed,” Trent said calmly as he kicked the car into a higher gear. “Hold on.”

  At the next intersection, Trent jerked the wheel right, barely braking enough to take the turn. Mia held on for dear life as the car careened on two wheels. Her heart in her throat, she looked back.

  A black sedan was gaining on them.

  “Trent, you’d better punch it,” Mia said, a warning note in her voice. “They’re getting closer.”

  “I know, I know,” he said through gritted teeth.

  On a back road now, the BMW took the tight curves like a dream, but the car behind them was obviously as well equipped under the hood. Mia gripped the door handle for dear life, looking from mirror to Trent to behind them and back, wondering what the fuck was going on.

  “They must have been with Redmond,” she said aloud.

  “Definitely.” Trent took another unexpected turn, throwing Mia against the door, injured shoulder first. She cried out as pain blossomed down her arm and across her back.

  “Sorry.”

  Mia gritted her teeth. “It’s okay. Just drive. We need to get away from these assholes.”

  Trent drove like a bat out of hell for the next half hour, winding through subdivisions, lonely back roads, even hitting the interstate a time or two. But the sedan was never far behind. Eventually, an SUV joined it. And then another.

  “It’s like the goddamn St. Patty’s Day parade,” Mia yelled in frustration as yet another vehicle joined. “What the hell do they want from us?”

  “Hang on, Mia. We’re about to find out.” Trent nodded straight ahead then slammed on the brakes.

  Mia was thrown against the seat belt and back as the car instantly responded to Trent’s command. She winced, rubbing at the soreness between her breasts, but that wasn’t her biggest problem.

  They’d run into a makeshift roadblock. Four SUVs crossed the country road, all of them black. And there, in front of them, stood a white man of medium height, with frosted tips in his perfectly styled blond hair. He was too thin, smiling a toothpaste-ad grin and wearing clothes that were obviously designer.

  Mia hated the little weasel on sight, and that’s not just because she was certain she was looking at the guy responsible for Garrett’s pain.

  “Well hey,” Ford called out, smiling even bigger, voice carrying through Trent’s partially opened window. “Why don’t you guys get out of the car and we can have a little chat?”

  “Mia, listen to me,” Trent whispered, unbuckling his seat belt. “This guy is lethal. Do what he says, okay? I’ll do my best to protect you.”

  “Thanks, Trent,” Mia said with a quick toss of her hair. “For everything.”

  “Be careful,” he admonished, and they both got out of the car.

  “Hey yourself, Ford,” Mia called, bumping the BMW’s door closed with one hip. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  And as she walked toward the man responsible for Garrett’s anguish, she plotted all the ways she’d like to kill this little turd.

  If, of course, he didn’t kill her first.

  * * * * *

  Even though Redmond’s truck went through red lights, darted around corners, went in circles, Garrett knew where this little chase would end up. He’d been tracking Redmond for a long time now, and his hideout in Little Five Points would almost definitely be their final destination.

  Garrett flicked a glance at the SUV’s in-dash clock. It was after seven now. The sun would be going down in just over an hour, and he wanted to get to Redmond before then. Darkness wouldn’t be his friend in this instance.

  Making a quick decision, Garrett slammed on the brakes and let the F150 take off without him. Slipping into a parking space on Smith Street, Garrett pulled his cell from his pocket.

  He needed to give Redmond the chance to relax, let himself believe that Garrett had really stopped following him. And then? Garrett would follow the rat right down into his hole. But since he had time, he’d call and check on Mia.

  Guilt clamped around the back of his neck as he turned on his phone and dialed Trent’s cell. She was going to be pissed as hell that he’d taken off after Redmond and left her. He prayed that she hadn’t been hurt too badly. Even though he was now doing this to make sure they had a safe, long life together, he very much doubted she’d see it that way.

  He stared down the empty street as the cell rang in his ear. Hmm. The call dumped into voicemail. That wasn’t like Trent. Garrett left a message anyway.

  “T, it’s me. I’m following Redmond into his hideout, and I’ll get the information from him one way or another. Please let me know that Mia is all right. She probably wants to kill me right now, but all I care about is getting her out of danger.” Garrett cleared his throat, a mysterious thickness having somehow lodged there. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

  Garrett cut the call and glanced at the clock again. Close enough. Redmond would still be looking, but he wouldn’t be on high alert anymore. This wasn’t exactly the subtle trap Garrett had in mind, but it’d have to do.

  Information was his, one way or another.

  Two blocks away from Redmond’s hideout, Garrett ducked behind an abandoned gas station. He cut the engine and checked the stash in his vehicle.

  He might be reckless at times, but he sure as hell wasn’t stupid.

  Bulletproof vest, Glock 22 Cut, Colt AR-15. He was loaded and ready. Exiting the SUV, Garrett hoped like hell he didn’t have to kill anyone today. It was too much damn trouble.

  In the distance, horns honked, engines rumbled, voices called. It was as if the usual hubbub of Little Five Points was there, but all going on just far enough from this small, desolate patch of abandoned earth. Gravel crunched under Garrett’s boots as he carefully made his way toward the empty storefront Redmond had called his own for about six months now. Sweeping his gaze back and forth, he made a careful study of the area. The last thing he needed was another surprise. He needed to get in there, grab Redmond and get him to talk, fast. Speed and silence were of the absolute essence.

  Inwardly thanking himself for doing such a thorough case of this place weeks ago, Garrett crept through a broken side window in the store connected to Redmond’s. Shattered glass littered the scratched floor, empty shelving units were stacked haphazardly against the walls. Being careful to step along the edges of the room to avoid hitting any squeaking boards, Garrett crossed the space.

  Redmond’s voice was easy to pick out, his Southern accent unmistakable. Garrett pressed his ear against the paper-thin wall. There was no other voice answering Redmond’s. He was on the phone.

  Chances were, he was alone. But he wouldn’t be for long. Garrett would be joining him in just a moment.

  Garrett unlocked the b
ack door of the old shop and pulled his gun before slowly, carefully pushing it open and entering the alley. The small alley behind held Redmond’s truck, parked crookedly in a space meant for delivery trucks. The other store’s back window still retained its glass, but it was open a good six inches. Garrett flattened himself against the shop’s back wall until he reached it. Ducking beneath, Garrett listened, then rose slightly to get a visual.

  This store was a little cleaner than the one next door, but not by much. The carpeting had been ripped up, big ragged chunks piled by the back door. A paint-splattered desk sat in the center of the rectangular room, black plastic covering the plate-glass windows at the front of the store. And there, with his back to Garrett, sat Redmond, still on the phone.

  “…telling you, he looked familiar to me too. Yeah.”

  Making use of Redmond’s distraction, Garrett worked to raise the window as quickly and silently as possible.

  “I roughed her up a little.” Redmond’s laugh sent a bolt of pure rage right through Garrett’s body.

  Keep cool, Garrett. You’ll make him pay, but not if you spook him first.

  “Okay. Sure, I think I could find him again.”

  Garrett’s boots hit the floor without a sound. Keeping his gun by his side, Garrett picked his way toward Redmond. Only feet separated them now.

  “Sure. Yeah, I’ll be there when I’ve got something for you. Thanks, boss.”

  The instant Redmond cut the call, Garrett’s arm wrapped around his throat and his Glock went straight to Redmond’s temple.

  “Nice to see you again,” Garrett said calmly, not sparing any pressure on Redmond’s throat. The guy gagged, but Garrett wasn’t about to let go. “How about you give me some information, and I won’t give this desk a nice new coat of organic red paint?”

  “I knew it,” Redmond hacked. “I knew you were a goddamn front! Who are you working for? Ramirez?”

  “I don’t work for anyone but myself. Who’s Ramirez? What does Ford want with him?” Garrett growled the questions, pressing the gun hard enough to Redmond’s temple that he was sure it’d leave a bruise. He deserved that, and so much more, for laying a hand on Mia.