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Corey pulled his burner from his pocket, dread increasing when he saw the text from Doyle with an attached screenshot. He closed his eyes wearily. Well, that answers the question of walking away.
“What does it say?” Ed demanded.
Bobby took the phone from Corey’s hand and cursed. “He says, ‘If she sings, the NOPD will be the least of your problems.’ ” He hissed out another curse. “Look at this screenshot of a map he attached. He knows exactly where we are right now.”
He tossed the phone to the table and Ed grabbed it up. “Fuck.”
“Fuck?” Bobby yelled furiously. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? You said that you scanned Corey’s burner for tracking devices!”
“I did!” Ed yelled back.
Bobby leaned across the table. “Then how does Doyle know where the fuck we are?”
Ed pushed to his feet, leaning toward Bobby, his glare just as vicious. Then he slumped. “He must have found a way to embed it in one of his messages.”
“So you say,” Bobby grumbled. “Fucker.”
Ed went still. “Are you suggesting something, Bobby?”
“Seems like you’re pushing us to quit. And then Doyle magically knows where we are.”
“No magic about it,” Ed fumed. “He’s rich. I’m sure he can buy a tech expert, just like he bought our services. And yes, I’m pushing us to quit, because I’m the only one here making any sense!”
“Enough!” Corey roared, slapping both palms on the table. “I’m fed up with you two fighting. Shut the hell up or get out. We’re not walking away. We’re going to finish the job, then get paid.”
“Corey?” a small voice asked.
Corey spun around to find Dianne leaning against the doorway to the second bedroom, rubbing her hands over her very pale face. He’d all but forgotten about her. “You’re awake.” Fucking hell. What had she heard?
“I heard yelling.” She folded her arms over her chest, hunching over. “Where are we?”
Corey forced himself to smile at her. “Our campsite, remember? I told you that we were going to get out of the city for a while.”
She shook her head. “This is a different place.” She frowned. “At least I think it is. How long did I sleep?”
“A little more than a day,” Ed told her. “You drank a lot of vodka.”
She looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Can I go home now?”
“Not right now,” Corey told her. He got up and took her arm, turning her back into the bedroom. “We’re just finishing up here. Why don’t you go back and lie down? I’ll bring you some water. That’ll help you feel better.”
She rubbed at her head. “It’s so bright in here.”
Corey gently pushed her to the bed. “That’s your hangover talking. Rest. I’ll be back.”
“Thank you, Corey.” She pulled a pillow over her eyes with a small moan of pain.
He stood there, watching her as his mind flipped between the two possibilities—drugging her again or killing her. They couldn’t take a chance on letting her go home. Not yet.
Not ever.
He closed the door and returned to the table. The three of them sat in silence for a full minute.
“I’ll do it,” Ed offered sadly. “I know you care about her.”
Corey cast him a beleaguered glare. “So do you.”
Bobby shrugged. “Ed ain’t been in love with her for years, Corey.”
