One-Knight Stand (White Knights #3) - Julie Moffett Page 0,94
Forty-One
WALLY HARRIS
Angel had just started talking on the phone when an alarm on his laptop sounded, startling him so badly he nearly knocked the computer off his lap.
Holy crap! Remington was calling Sampson right this very minute.
“What happened?” Mike hissed.
Wally glanced over at Angel, but she was still talking, her back to him. There was no time to waste. His hands flew over the keyboard as he worked to intercept Remington’s call.
“Remington is calling Sampson,” he whispered. “Right now.”
“Now?” Mike exclaimed then lowered his voice. “Shoot, shoot, shoot. What are you going to do?”
“Intercept it,” he said grimly. “The man-in-the-middle operation is now underway.” Wally declined Remington’s call and sent a text instead, pretending to be Sampson.
Can’t talk. Not secure. What’s up?
“What did you do?” Mike asked.
“I declined Remington’s call and immediately sent a text so he knows why I…well, Sampson, didn’t answer the phone.”
“How long until he responds?”
“I have no idea.” Wally hoped the response would be immediate, but seconds ticked past and nothing happened. He could hear the low murmur of Angel’s voice and caught her saying her father’s name.
“Any response yet?” Mike whispered about five seconds later.
“No.” Wally’s nerves were stretching thin. “I’ll tell you when I know something. You focus on following Sampson.”
“We got him covered,” Jax said in a low voice. “He’s leading us right where we want to go.”
Wally glanced out the window. They were on the east side of a populated area now, mostly residential with a few warehouses and commercial shopping strips. There was a stoplight at almost every intersection. He was glad that they were tracking Sampson electronically, as they seemed to miss every light. Then he had a wild thought. What if Sampson hadn’t taken the bait and was going to visit a girlfriend or something?
That would be a disaster.
“Where’s Bo?” he asked, looking up from the screen.
“About a half mile back,” Jax replied. “Chill, I’ve got this. You do what you need to do.”
Calm. Jax was calm and steadiness personified. He was glad Jax (and not Frankie) was driving and was solid in clutch situations. He appreciated that a lot.
“Okay, thanks, Jax.”
As Jax had suggested, he returned his focus to his laptop, where the cursor was blinking steadily. Why wasn’t Remington responding? What if he suspected something was up? What if Sampson had never texted him before, and he’d become suspicious? What if the two had made a pact never to text or leave any kind of written trail?
His fingers drummed on the side of the keyboard, mentally willing a text to appear. He shifted in his seat and chewed on his thumbnail. He could spend the next hour going through every possible what-if and drive himself into madness.
He looked over at Angel again, but she was still talking, with her back to everyone.
Why the heck is Remington taking so long to answer?
As the seconds ticked past with no response, sweat began to trickle down his temples. He blinked it away, staring so hard at his screen, the cursor began to blur.
Did I just make a colossal mistake?
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard the soft ping of response. Mike must have heard it, too, because he leaned over the front seat, trying to see Wally’s laptop. Wally read the text, feeling faint with relief.
Did you relay the message to the bird’s handler?
Wally gave Mike a thumbs-up and angled the laptop so he could read it. Mike glanced at Wally. “What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to say I relayed the message. Hopefully, it will stall Remington while giving Sampson time to arrive wherever Angel’s mother is being held. Is Sampson still driving?”
Jax answered from the driver’s seat. “He’s still in motion.”
“Good. Let’s hope this works.” Wally rested his fingers on the keyboard and began to type a response.
Yes. Will send confirmation of deed when I have it.
This time, Remington’s response came quickly.
Standing by.
“Wow.” Wally leaned back in his seat, rolling his neck and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Nothing like being a man in the middle for a hit job. What’s wrong with these people?”
“A lot,” Jax answered grimly from the front seat. “Which is why we’re bringing them down.”
Angel was still talking on the phone, a finger in her ear to block out everything else. He wondered what the heck she was talking about for so long. A glance out the window confirmed they were moving out of town and were headed down a long stretch of two-lane road.