Give Me War - Kate McCarthy Page 0,27

of a button, my fingers shaking with fury.

It rings again.

Goddammit, Mac. I don’t have time.

I send it to voicemail and set my phone down.

It rings again, vibrating angrily across the table in the only way a phone can when it’s Mac calling you. I pick it up with a huff, hitting the green button and putting it to my ear.

“What?” I bark.

“Any news?”

“None.”

There’s a pause. “We need the security footage from the gallery.”

“What? Who the hell is we?” I hear the ding of an elevator and my temper skyrockets because they are clearly not at my house. Mac is apparently on the loose again and I can’t handle her rogue bullshit on top of everything else. “Where the hell are you?”

“Jake said you emailed the footage to yourself before leaving the gallery,” she replies, dodging the question. “We need to see it.”

My hand tightens on the phone. “Where are you, Mackenzie Valentine?”

“Don’t full name me,” she snaps. “We’re at Echo’s.”

“Who is? All of you? What the hell? Who’s looking after Wolf?”

The room snaps to attention.

“Mum and Dad are there. He was sleeping when we left, okay? He’s fine.”

I pinch the furrow between my brows. “Just … go home. Please.”

“I can’t.” Pain bleeds into her voice. “I tried. I promise you, I tried. But I can’t sit on my hands like this. None of us can. We need to do something. Just email me the footage okay? Maybe we might find something you missed.”

My nostrils flare. “Fine.”

“Jared.” My sister lowers her voice. “I’m not good with words, but Evie is strong. She won’t go down …” She breathes in a shuddery breath. “She won’t …” But she can’t seem to get the words out.

She won’t go down without a fight.

I close my eyes.

My phone rings a scant ten minutes later with its usual urgent insistence and I know it’s Mac this time before I even check the screen. Putting the device to my ear, I’m halfway through answering when she yells in my ear. “We have Renny’s location!”

My pulse leaps. “What? How?”

Mitch, Coby, and Seth, are the only ones left in the room with everyone else scattered on stakeout assignment, and they all turn to me. Tucking the phone against my shoulder, I swirl my finger in the air with one hand, while grabbing my keys in the other. They leap into action as Mac speaks. “Echo zoomed in on Renny’s bike. Apparently it’s one of the newer ones. They’re fitted with a GPS tracker in case they’re stolen. Did you know that?” She keeps talking without waiting for an answer. “Well she used the licence plate to get the VIN and hacked into the GPS.”

“Fuck.” My heart is pounding as we jog out the back exit and down the dingy stairs leading to the undercover parking lot. The keys rattle in my hand as I run for the Porsche. “Message the location.”

“Ace just did.” And sure enough a message pings in my ear. “Ask Echo if she can get a phone number from that location.”

If Echo is as good as she seems to be, she should be able to hack into the nearest tower and triangulate a signal.

“She’s already working on it.”

I’m sliding into the Porsche, Mitch slamming into the passenger seat, when another ping comes through. “Ace just sent it.”

Jesus. Echo’s skills are insane. I owe her big. And Mac.

The revving engine of my car reverberates through the cavernous underground garage as I plant my foot. Tyres screech as I spin the wheel, heading for the bright light of the exit.

“Jared?”

“Thanks Mac.”

I hang up and toss the phone at Mitch. “Rossi’s number and location are in messages. Forward the address to Seth and make sure he passes it on to everyone else, then call Rossi. We need to make sure he still has Evie stashed in that safe house—" he catches the device, already scrolling while I speak, “—and we need to find out who and how many are inside it.” I check the time on the dash. Seven a.m. “We have two hours.”

My brother doesn’t question a thing. He simply dials the number like the cool, calm professional motherfucker he is and puts the call on speaker.

It’s answered after four rings. “Yeah?”

“Mitchell Valentine. AFP. This Lorenzo Rossi?”

There’s a pause, and then, “Yeah.”

Holy shit. Echo got him. She actually got him. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Traffic is almost non-existent, being Christmas Day. The tyres of my car lay a wild arc of rubber onto the bitumen