A/N: Thanks for the continued support, everyone! It's all the reviews and faves that give me motivation to write! Enjoy the next chapter!
Chapter 5
"I'm not going to stand here all day, McGarrett."
"I know, I know. Just a few minutes is all I'm asking." Steve would have been unabashed to drop to his knees and beg if it meant he'd be allowed a moment to comfort Grace. "Please, Jack."
Warner snorted and waved his hand dismissively. He'd folded the switchblade back into his pocket and stood with his pistol hanging lackadaisically in his grip. He sighed, reminiscent of a pouting toddler, and plopped onto the bottom step of the wooden staircase.
Steve took full advantage of the rare glimmer of empathy. Fearing the man would change his mind, Steve turned quickly to Grace and pulled her close. He wrapped his arms tightly around her trembling frame and exhaled a breath of relief. Warner's sudden mood change was concerning, but Steve was thankful for the side of the man willing to sanction him time for a goodbye.
Hugging and soothing the fears of the kids had been difficult with limited use of his hands. Having the zip-ties removed left deep, angry rings pressed into his skin that tingled and burned. But as he held Grace, this time as tight as he wanted to, the pain vanished.
"Are you coming back?" Grace whispered. Hot tears fell silently down her face and smudged against Steve's cheek.
Steve kept her firmly in his embrace for a minute before he replied. A pang of remorse shook his heart as he placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length.
"Everything is going to be okay. You hear me? We'll be fine." His fatherly hand moved to the back of her head and he leaned forward, blinking away a sudden blur in his vision as he kissed her crown. "I'll be back soon, Grace, I promise. You'll be by yourself for a while but you'll be fine, I have no doubt. Understand? You're the strongest, bravest girl I know. I'm so proud of you."
A small sob burst from her mouth. She averted her eyes, cheeks burning red and shining wetly.
"You'll be fine, baby, I promise," Steve reassured, careful to keep his voice steady. "Just stay quiet, do what they say, and think of how close your dad is to finding us by now."
His own words incited a whole new fear: Danny.
As if Steve didn't have enough to worry about already, he remembered his partner and the lines he was willing to cross to save his daughter from her abductee years earlier. Now, not only was Grace gone again, but Charlie was, too. He could hardly imagine the rage, the guilt, and the panic that overrode Danny's emotions, as well as the physical afflictions accompanying them: the nausea, the rapid pulse, the fatigue. Wherever Danny was, whatever lead he was following, Steve knew he was a mess. Kono, Lou, and Chin Ho would keep their eyes on him, sure, but Danny would ultimately do anything necessary to get Steve and his kids back—a truth that concerned him just as much as getting the hell out of this place.
And where the hell was Danny, anyway? Steve had expected Five-0 to have found them by now, and the fact that an entire night had passed made Steve wonder if the team had any leads at all. They were running out of time. If, somehow, Jack Warner's convoluted plan succeeded and Ulani was brought back to the house, Steve and the kids wouldn't be needed anymore. Warner promised he'd let the kids go, but Steve knew it was a lie. They'd seen his face, knew his name and voice. Witnesses couldn't be spared.
Grace finally looked up. She held out her bound hands, and Steve clasped them in his own. "I'm not worried about being alone," she said. "I'm worried about you. They took Charlie, and now they're going to take you too. What if you get hurt? What if you don't come back?"
Steve's eyes didn't leave hers as Warner stood from his spot on the stairs. "Alright, that's enough," he muttered. "We've got work to do, McGarrett."
Steve yanked Grace forward one last time and hugged her fiercely. He pressed his mouth against her ear, speaking softly so Warner couldn't hear. "I'm going to get us out of here."
Warner's rough hand seized Steve's shoulder and peeled him away. Steve forced himself to cooperate. He'd mustered enough strength to be submissive, to resign himself for the sake of the kids, but that strength was waning. He knew the consequences of disobeying Jack's orders was something he couldn't risk, but having to be under Warner's control was torturous.
"Let's go," Warner said. He gestured to the stairs with his gun, prompting Steve to lead the way. Steve obeyed, climbing the steps slowly, Warner's gun inches from his back. It would be so easy to whip around and take the pistol. So easy. No one ever saw it coming, and Steve was fast. But how many men were upstairs? If Charlie was alive—and he was alive, he had to be alive—would Steve be able to find him?
On the final step, Steve paused. The lone light that hung over the basement ceiling flickered. He peered down at Grace, the quick cuts from light to dark making the tears on her face sparkle like gems. He wanted to offer one last smile, one more smirk to assure her he would be fine, but god damn it he couldn't make himself do it.
Something nagging inside him warned this was the last time he'd see Grace in that room.
"Move," Warner barked. A hard shove to the back made Steve break away from Grace's gaze.
He stumbled up the last step and found himself in the dirty kitchen of the house, with Ricci and the two other men seated around a rickety table. The men wore normal street clothes, and all had guns sitting on their hips. They looked like a rough bunch, but nothing about them screamed, 'I have a child tied up in my basement.'
Jack closed the basement door and snapped a small padlock into place. Steve studied the way the other men acted, how they waited expectantly for their leader to speak and address the group. Warner was definitely the one in charge.
"Commander McGarrett has decided to help us find our guns," said Warner. He holstered his gun and walked around Steve to stand by the men at the table.
One man, the Hispanic who'd led Steve from the car to his prison, snorted. "Not like he had much of a choice."
Steve didn't say anything. His gaze traveled around the room, searching for any sign of Charlie. A desperate part of him hoped to see the little boy huddling in the corner, or restrained in the adjacent living room. The house remained as it was so many hours ago when he'd first arrived; trash littering the dusty floors, paint curling off the walls, the smell of damp wood decaying from neglect. He wondered if the gang were squatters, or if one of the High Aces had the place in their name. The house was definitely abandoned, and had been for some time.
"Since we're going to be working so closely together, I figure we'd better introduce ourselves," said Warner, clapping his hands together. The new, chipper personality put Steve on edge. During their first encounter, Warner came off as intimidating and cold—nearly emotionless.
"You've already met Trav," said Warner, gesturing to Ricci. "Quentin here will be our driver today, and Kimo will stay here in case you misbehave."
Steve knew what he meant. He glared at the fourth man, seething at the thought of Kimo hurting a child.
But Kimo hadn't been the one to take Charlie. Steve remembered Warner getting frustrated in the basement, and how he'd called for Ricci—first name Travis?—to come down and take the crying boy away. He wasn't sure which man he hated more.
"So, what's the plan?" asked Steve. He wondered if his voice was loud enough to carry downstairs. He didn't want Grace to hear anything. "Ulani's rotting away in Halawa, and, no offense, but you guys don't seem smart enough to pull off a break-out."
Warner grinned widely, showing off straight white teeth. "Smart enough or not, we don't have time for anything elaborate. I want my guns, and I want off this island."
"And you think I can help with this?"
"Of course you can!" Warner exclaimed. Man, this guy was a freak. "You're Five-0. The governor's task force. Ex-Navy SEAL. You're Steve-freaking-McGarrett! You can help us, and you will help us, because if you don't, your kids will each get a bullet between their eyes."
Steve set his jaw. His fists clenched at his sides, itching for contact. "I'm not doing anything until I know Charlie is alive."
"He's alive. You can take my word for it."
Steve wavered on his feet as he prevented himself from lunging forward at Warner and wrapping his hands around the man's neck. Ricci shot up from his chair, hand on his gun, alerted from Steve's movement. Steve regained his balance and inhaled slowly. He nodded at the man, and Ricci slowly sat back down. He took pleasure in seeing the stiff way Ricci moved his arm, still sore and bandaged from Steve's bullet.
"Jack," Steve started, hoping to tap into the sympathetic side of the man, "you have to give me something. If he's alive, just let me see him. Let me talk to him. I won't be able to focus on what I'm doing until I know he's okay."
Warner shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sure you'll find yourself able to focus, McGarrett. The same thing that happened to the boy will happen to that girl in the basement if you can't pull it together."
Oh, god. What the hell did that mean? Steve quivered with rage. His chest burned, and every muscle was taught and aching. It had been a long time since he'd felt an anger so great it threatened to consume him. He pictured a black cloud settling over his head, descending like a wicked maw with poison teeth. He thirsted for Warner's blood on his fists. He imagined himself punching out that unsettling smile, watching Warner fall to the ground choking on broken teeth.
"Let's just get this over with," Steve muttered.
"Excellent," said Warner. "Kimo, keep your phone close. If McGarrett tries anything I'll need to call you right away."
Steve dropped his voice and glared at Kimo, an icy stare cold enough to make the man shiver. "If you touch the kids, I will not rest until I can personally watch your brains spill out onto the floor."
Kimo laughed. "Yeah, good luck with that."
"I don't like that attitude, Commander," Jack warned. "You'd better not act that way at Halawa."
Steve didn't say anything else in fear of triggering Jack's nasty side. He stayed quiet as Warner led the way out of the house, Ricci and Quentin following closely.
The morning sun was bright and stung his eyes. The air was thick already, a sign of another sweltering day. Judging by the sky, Steve figured it was between six and eight AM. A whole night had been spent in the dank basement, and a whole night had passed without Charlie. His head began to throb at the temple, right beneath the swollen lump.
As Steve was led to the black SUV in the driveway, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the yard for any indication of his partner's son. He paid close attention to the grass and dirt around the shed, searching for any drag marks or missing chunks of lawn that suggested a struggle. Morbidly, he also scouted the yard for upturned earth or muddy shovels, because although he didn't want to believe it, there was a possibility that...
No.
He couldn't go there.
Steve shoved the thought away and climbed into the passenger seat of the vehicle. As Warner said, Quentin took the wheel while the two other men hopped in the back. It both disgusted and infuriated Steve how many opportunities he'd had to get the upper hand on his captors, and how many times he'd been forced to hold back.
Quentin turned the car around and started down the gravel road leading away from the property. A surprisingly deep ditch separated the road from thick copses of leafy brush and tall trees drooping with twisting vines. Steve drank in every detail, keeping his head still and eyes moving so it wasn't obvious he was searching for a hint to his location.
It was at least a five mile drive to a paved road. Finally, the trees ended and Steve was greeted with civilization. Excitement pounded in his heart. Surely Danny had put a BOLO on the vehicles, and Warner was dumb enough to make Steve sit in the front. There was a good chance someone would recognize him and call the police.
Steve studied the area as Quentin waited to turn onto the highway. To his surprise, a lone bar stood just ahead. A giant, laughably gaudy sign sat on the roof, its neon letters blinking Margaritas! in alternating pink and green. Steve had seen that sign before.
Quentin took a left, and after a mile or so the ocean came into view to the north, which confirmed Steve's suspicions: they were near Sunset Beach, forty miles from Honolulu.
"McGarrett," said Warner, interrupting Steve's thoughts.
Steve didn't remove his eyes from the window, but grunted in response.
"What's going to happen today should be very simple. You're going to tell the staff that Ulani will be able to assist you in finding the two missing kids, and that he needs to be released into Five-0's custody."
Steve rolled his eyes. "My face is going to be plastered all over the news too, Jack."
"You'll have to think of something," Ricci said from the backseat, causing Quentin to smirk. "You know what'll happen if you screw this up."
"Okay, you know what?" Steve rotated around in his seat, sending a fiery glare at Ricci and an unamused Warner. "Do me a favor, okay? Do not mention the kids again. I'm sick of hearing what you'll do to them if I don't cooperate. I get it, okay? Just shut the hell up so we can get this over with."
The driver raised his eyebrows and glanced in the rear-view to get a look at Warner and Ricci's reactions. Steve turned back to the window, ignoring them all. So much commotion, so much pain, all for some stupid guns.
According to the clock on the dash, it was almost eight AM when Quentin pulled into the visitors' section of Halawa's parking lot. The drive allowed Steve to mentally prepare himself for what had to be the best acting performance of his life. He knew most of the guards, so he was sure he could get away with forgoing his ID and badge, but would anyone be suspicious? He'd made up a good cover story, and if he put some urgency in his voice, he could convince the guards to move fast and bypass some otherwise necessary protocol.
For the kids' safety, he needed to get Samuel Ulani into the car. Once that miracle happened...
He had no plan.
"Okay, here's what's going to happen," Warner instructed. He removed the gun from his belt and passed it to Ricci. "McGarrett and I will go inside to get Ulani. Quentin, go park by the release gates so you're ready to meet us there when he's out. Trav, buddy, you're the muscle. Once Ulani is inside I want him hooded and tied. Understand?"
All the men nodded in agreement, and Warner grinned with satisfaction.
"Alright, then, McGarrett," said Warner, reaching forward to clap Steve on the shoulder. "Are you ready?"
Danny entered Jack Warner's house and immediately felt sick.
He was not a superstitious man. He didn't believe in curses, hexes, voodoos, bad luck or anything of the sort. But Danny did believe in intuition. And right now, his gut was telling him this man was bad news. Negative vibes seemed to radiate through the small home, a heavy, almost static energy clinging to every oxygen particle in the air. His body felt weighed with trepidation.
This was where they would find answers. This was where they needed to be.
The house had an open floor plan and a sliding door that led to a tiny, neglected backyard. In contrast to Ricci's, the house was lived-in and cluttered. Huge stacks of folders stuffed with papers, receipts, newspaper clippings and the like towered over the kitchen table. Identical piles sat on every chair. A card table was set up on the living room, with more papers spread across the surface. From where he stood, Danny could see red circles and yellow streaks of highlighter over some of the pages.
"What the hell is all this?" he said.
"Whatever it is, it looks like Jack's been busy," noted Chin, heading for a better look at the files on the table.
Kono and Lou stepped in from the hall merging off the living room.
"Hey," Kono greeted, getting straight to the point. "There's seven rifles in his bedroom and another twelve guns in the garage."
"And he's got bags of cash stashed all over," said Lou, "which confirms what Kono and I have been thinking."
"Which is?" asked Danny.
"That Warner's still in business."
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. The thick air was making him irritable, and he wanted out of the house as fast as possible. "Elaborate, please. What did you find in all this stuff?"
The team followed Kono to the table set up in the living room. She picked up a newspaper clipping dated a few months back and held it out to Danny.
"From the looks of it, Warner was really interested in this story. Remember Samuel Ulani?"
Danny took the article, with featured a mugshot of the man in question. "Yeah, I remember. We busted him with all those stolen guns."
"Right," said Kono. "Warner seems to have every article published about Ulani and his guns. He was following the case very closely."
Lou crossed his arms. "Some of the files on the kitchen table had personal records of Ulani; address, the place of his day job, names of people he'd recently sold to..."
"Why have all that extra info?" Chin wondered aloud. "Why would Warner want names of previous buyers of Ulani's guns?"
Danny stared down at the black-and-white photo of the criminal. It had been such a simple case, so insignificant. Nothing about Ulani or his guns had stuck with Danny over the months. In fact, today was the first time he'd thought about it since.
Why hadn't his intuition kicked in then? Why didn't the sense of foreboding hit him like it did now, standing in Warner's house?
"He's looking for something," Danny concluded. He tossed the article back onto the table, cursing under his breath. "Ulani had a gun that Warner needs back, and since we were the ones to take him down, Warner must figure Steve knows something about it. The kids are leverage."
"Seems like a lot of work for a gun," muttered Chin, shaking his head.
"Well, whatever the reason, Warner was definitely fixed on Ulani," Lou said. "I say we head over to Halawa and pay him a visit."
"Yes," Danny said. "Lou, you're with me. Chin, Kono, you stay here and keep going through these files. Get HPD down here to help process."
"Got it," replied Chin.
Without another word, Danny turned and headed out the door, Lou behind. He sucked in a breath of fresh air. The impending sense of dread didn't dissipate as he left the house. In fact, it was stronger than ever.
Steve was both surprised and pleased that Jack wasn't stupid enough to bring a gun inside the building.
The two men made it past the metal detectors with ease and approached the security desk at Oahu's notorious prison. Warner stuck close to Steve's side, gauging his every move. Every step closer to the desk made Steve's feet feel heavier and heavier, as if he was trudging through quicksand and sinking deeper into the earth.
He'd never before felt such helplessness, and he was pissed. Some lowly gang banger shouldn't be telling him what to do. Some worthless punk like Jack Warner shouldn't be threatening him and the kids. Some detestable criminal shouldn't be in control the situation.
He was completely under their control. One mistake, and Charlie and Grace would face the consequences. One wrong move, and Steve wouldn't be able to reunite Danny with his kids.
"Commander McGarrett?"
Steve knew the guard at the desk from previous trips to the prison. Franklin did a double-take and furrowed his brow, scrutinizing Steve up and down. He was a nice guy, probably close to retirement, and definitely not someone Steve ever imagined he'd lie to.
"Easy, Frank," said Steve, holding up a hand. He placed both palms flat on the desk, flashing Franklin his classic grin. "Everything's fine. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Franklin studied Warner, who smiled politely, but said nothing. Thoroughly confused, Franklin shook his head. "Jesus, McGarrett. What the hell is going on? You're all over the news. They say you're missing."
A security camera hung above the desk, and Steve chanced a quick glance straight into the lens. Hoping Warner hadn't noticed, Steve leaned closer to the guard and lowered his voice. "Listen, Franklin. Yes, I was taken hostage last night. I got away, but the men who took me still have the kids."
Franklin nodded slowly.
"No one's had time to alert the local news about me," continued Steve. "The kids are still out there, Franklin, and I need your help."
"Are you kidding me? Where's Detective Williams?"
"He's following up on a tip," said Steve, without missing a beat. "Look, I don't have time to explain, alright? Every minute we spend taking is another minute the kids are in danger."
The guard scratched at his head. "What can I do?"
Steve was disgusted with himself for being such a good actor. He'd been undercover plenty of times before. It wasn't hard to be convincing. With Warner beside him, ensuring Steve pass a message or drop a hint about his situation, he was trapped.
Damn it, there had to be a way out of this.
"I need you to release an inmate into my custody. Samuel Ulani. We have reason to believe he may know where the kids are being held. The only way to do this is with Ulani's help. We're out of options, and out of time. We need him now."
Franklin shook his head and sighed. "There's a lot of paperwork involved in that, Commander. You know that."
"Just give me what's necessary and I'll fill the rest out later."
"I don't know..."
Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. "If you get in any trouble for this, I promise you I will personally call the governor and have her exonerate you of any wrong-doing. Please, Franklin, I need Ulani as soon as possible if we have any chance of seeing Grace and Charlie alive again."
He didn't need to fake the emotion in his voice. Frank heard it, and his features softened. Without another word, he turned and began rifling through a file cabinet for the appropriate forms. He returned with a clipboard and pen, which Steve took and began scribbling information as fast as he could.
Frank nodded towards Warner. "Who's your friend?"
Steve hadn't realized how close Warner hovered beside him, staring down at every stroke of his pen. "This is Jack. He's going to help me with Ulani."
Seeming satisfied with the response, Franklin declared he'd send for Ulani's immediate release into McGarrett's custody and called for a team to get the prisoner ready.
Steve wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. Was he really going to let this happen? Was he going to put Ulani's life in danger and give Jack what he wanted?
Warner tapped his foot impatiently as Steve continued filling out the paperwork. As he wrote, the text warped into illegible smudges, impossible to read. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and it was clearer, but only a moment later the pen was slipping from between his fingers and his shirt was scratchy at the collar.
Damn it, Danny, where are you?
"Commander?"
Franklin's voice shoved Steve back into focus. He cleared his throat. "Yes?"
"We moved as fast as we were able. Ulani is ready at the back gate."
Steve pushed his pen and clipboard aside. In the thirty minutes Franklin had been gone, he'd only managed to complete half his paperwork. "Thanks, Franklin. I really appreciate your help."
"Just find those kids, Steve."
He nodded, and felt sick.
Outside, Warner clapped him on the back, grinning wildly. "That wasn't so bad, huh?"
Steve gritted his teeth. He pushed Warner away and continued down the sidewalk, feeling defeated.
"That full immunity thing is pretty damn helpful," mused Warner. "I'm glad I got the right man for the job."
Steve stomped towards the back gates, refusing to say a word. Just a few more minutes and Ulani would be in the car, and Steve and the kids wouldn't be needed any more. He just had to make it through one last exchange with some guards, remain calm and casual, and he'd be off to the secluded farm that no one would ever find unless they knew where to look.
As Franklin promised, two guards had Ulani ready by the gates. They had Ulani dressed in a white shirt and plain slacks, with his long black hair tied back at his nape. The man appeared utterly confused.
"Thank you, gentlemen," Steve said as the gates buzzed open. "We'll return him as soon as we can."
"I'm not a freaking library book, man," said Ulani. "What's going on here?"
"What's going on is you're going to help me with my case. And if you cooperate, I may be able to get your sentence reduced. Sound good?"
Ulani raised his eyebrows. He stuck out his wrists as one of the guards worked at unlocking his handcuffs. "Seriously? What do I need to do?"
"I'll explain everything in the car."
One of the guards, name tag reading Henderson, smirked as the cuffs fell away. "You've got yourself a pretty good deal, Ulani. Enjoy being outdoors."
"Yeah," said the other guard. "If you're lucky you might get to spend one night away from a cell."
Steve grabbed Ulani by the shoulder. "And if he's really lucky," he said, looking Henderson in the eye, "tonight he might even be sipping margaritas, watching the sunset on the beach."
"I have a feeling you won't be that nice to me," Ulani muttered.
Steve nodded his thanks to the guards, and prodded Ulani to walk. Warner held onto Ulani's other arm, ensuring he wasn't going to make a break for it. A part of Steve wished he would.
Behind them, Henderson pulled the gates shut and locked them. Ahead, the SUV pulled up to the walkway, windows tinted to disguise the men inside.
"So, what am I doing, exactly?" asked Ulani, looking to Steve.
Steve couldn't bring himself to answer.
Warner checked over his shoulder to make sure the guards were back inside the building. When he was sure they were, he pulled open the side door to the vehicle, revealing Ricci inside, smiling devilishly with a flour sack in his hands.
"What the hell is this?" said Ulani, taking a step backwards. He looked desperately towards Steve.
Steve yanked him forward, guilt churning his stomach.
"Get in," hissed Warner.
"What? What's going on? Are you guys really cops?"
"I said, get in."
Warner lunged forward and seized a fistful of Ulani's shirt. On autopilot, Steve helped his captor's shove Ulani into the bench seat next to Ricci, who promptly hooded him and brandished the zip ties. Every movement seemed mindless, automatic. Steve was the criminal. He had just become a kidnapper himself. Ulani was an idiot who loved his guns, but he wasn't a killer. He didn't deserve this.
"Hey, hey, go easy," Steve warned. He didn't like Ricci's roughness.
"Get inside, McGarrett," barked Warner, sliding into the backseat next to their hostage. Ulani shouted obscenities until Ricci shoved a gun against his temple. Although he was masked, Steve could picture the horror on Ulani's face. The betrayal. Cops were good guys, sworn to protect and serve the community.
And here was Steve, no worse than Warner.
But the kids...
He boarded the vehicle, reclaiming his spot up front. Quentin pulled out of the parking lot.
"McGarrett didn't screw anything up, did he?" asked Ricci.
"No, it was perfect. No one questioned a thing. It's amazing what people will do to save a couple of little kids."
Quentin laughed. "I never liked kids."
"Me, either," said Ricci. "Thank god we won't have ours around much longer."
Steve spun in his seat. "You promised you'd let them go," he reminded Warner. "That was the deal."
"Wait, you guys have those kids? The ones from the news?" Ulani exclaimed, earning another jab from Ricci's pistol.
"Jack," Steve growled.
"Relax, McGarrett," said Warner. "You're right. A deal is a deal."
Steve didn't miss the exchange of glances between Warner and Quentin, who cast his gaze to the rear-view and smirked.
Shit.
He knew it. He knew it and he'd still went along with their plan. The Aces were never planning on freeing the kids. He'd cooperated to keep Kimo from harming the kids at the house, but what did it matter now? As soon as they arrived, they'd be dead.
Hell, maybe they were dead already.
Maybe that was part of the plan. Maybe while Steve was getting Ulani into his custody, Kimo was digging graves in the backyard.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He stood his elbow on the door and leaned his forehead against his hand, fighting away a tightness in his chest. His lungs were cinched like a drawstring, so deprived of air that spots began to invade the edges of his vision.
Steve wasn't immune to fear. But being a SEAL taught him how to control his fear, to turn it into energy to get him through whatever crisis he was facing.
Doing so had never been harder.
He had to do something. If he had any hope of saving the kids, he'd have to act. He'd have to fight. He didn't have a chance of taking down three men with guns—if he knocked one of them out, the second would shoot him through the head. No, he needed a way to take them out all at once.
Steve pondered his ideas for the entire forty minute drive. The car had been virtually silent, giving him optimal concentration. He knew what had to be done.
They passed Sunset Beach, and soon the gravel road across from the neon margarita bar came into view. Every curve in the road heightened Steve's anxiety as he realized he forgot to count how many curves they encountered the first time. What if he wasn't quick enough?
Then, finally, the farmhouse came into view. It was about two hundred yards away, just far enough to be out of view from Kimo at the house.
Perfect.
Without hesitation, Steve lunged for the wheel and yanked it to the side, sending the car spinning into the ditch.