Page 71 of Primal
“Sure, okay, but uhh…”
“You’ll be paid for the time.”
“Right, of course, Mr. Frost, thank you,” Chuck rushes to say. “I’ll tell the guys and we’ll be back bright and early. Have a good weekend.”
I hang up the phone without giving an answer and grab my jacket.
Time to deal with a second headache.
Fiora standsin the parking lot of Denny’s, glancing back and forth as she waits.
It’s just after six, and there’s still no sign of Marco. Traffic was a bitch, but Jasper pulled the car into the lot a few minutesbefore the hour. Fiora hasn’t noticed my car, and I stay out of her way. I trust her to do what she must, but the gun on my hip has other plans should shit go south.
Marco pulls up in his rundown Toyota a bit later, not even bothering to park. He idles by the front door, hopping out so he can throw himself at Fiora and wrap her in a hug. Even from my vantage point, I can tell she’s not too thrilled. I exhale through my nose, keeping an eye on the two of them. Why hasn’t he parked?
A beep sounds from my pocket, and I pull out my phone. But it isn’t my regular phone. My burner phone has a simple message from Nexxor.
His phone’s been on a while. Call so I can trace him?
Easy enough. I fish out James’s phone and dial Mr. Silk, letting it ring a few times before it sends me to voicemail. I try again immediately, but it’s the same deal.
But on the third try, I get my answer.
Marco pulls out a small black phone from his pocket, checks the screen, and hits decline. At the same time, the call cuts off, and I’m sent to voicemail.
My blood runs cold as I watch Fiora’s best fucking friend turn off the flip phone and stuff it away. My burner phone pings a second later, but I don’t need to check my messages to know it’s Nexxor telling me the phone’s off.
The truth settles into my body worse than a gunshot.
Marco is Mr. Silk.
Marco ordered Mason’s murder.
Jesus fucking Christ.
My brain runs through the evidence, trying to keep up with the truth before me. Either a cop or someone close to the cops. Someone who could block the real investigation. His refusal to help Fiora find Mason’s killer. His sudden shift when he found out I claimed her. What the fuck is on his business card again?Marco Pollozo, Assistant Chief of the Seattle Police Department, [email protected].
Realization washes over me.
Marco Polo. Like the fucking silk road.
Like Mr. Silk.
I scramble out of the car, hand over the hilt of my gun. I’m going to fucking kill him. I don’t care about his reasons, his motives, or whatever other lies he spews from his mouth. How dare he try to show his face in front of Fiora? In front of me? He’s the reason for her grief. The reason we’re engaged in the first place. The reason for our lives being turned upside down.
Marco Pollozo is a dead man walking.
In my anger, I slam the car door shut, and Marco’s eyes peel over to me. Shit. They widen when he realizes I’m there, and before I can even blink, he grabs onto Fiora’s arm and yanks her toward his idling car. I run for it, but I’m not fast enough. Marco slams the side of Fiora’s head on the top of his car and forces her into the passenger’s seat so she can’t fight back.
Thatfucker. I’m just about to reach Marco’s car when a family steps off the curb and right into my path. I can’t stop fast enough. We both go tumbling to the pavement as the rest of the family yells behind us.
Goddamnit. Fiora.
I push the middle-aged man off me. My knee throbs as I stand, but I don’t care. I need to get to Fiora.
Only I’m too late.
Marco’s car peels out of the Denny’s parking lot and squeals off into traffic, leaving me in the dust.