I reached over and hit the speakerphone button hoping that answered the question.

“Hello?”

“Is this Adam Newcomb?”

My eyes shot to Rhode as he was yanking his phone out of his pocket.

“Who’s this?”

“I met you awhile back at the club.”

“Who. Is. This?” I demanded.

“I sat in a meeting with you and Will.”

Fear seared through me. I grabbed my cell off my desk and pulled up my text messages, easily finding Sloane’s name.

“Will who?”

The man blew out a breath, and through the silence, I sent Sloane a message asking her where she was.

Cole and Davis entered my office, both on high alert.

“Listen, Newcomb…or is it Noble? I’m calling you as a professional courtesy. Evans caught wind that Lorenzo turned. He’s pissed and looking for retribution. Since Takeback had a part in takin’ down Lorenzo, my guess is he’s headed your way.”

Cole darted out of my office. Davis stepped closer to my desk and Rhode continued to hold his phone close to my desk phone. Obviously, he’d called Wilson and had him on speaker.

“Mind telling me what you mean by professional courtesy?”

“Do you really want to waste time asking a stupid question you know the answer to? Or do you want the plate number of the last known car Evans was driving?”

“What’s the plate?”

The man rattled off the number while I wrote it down. It wasn’t until I went to set the pen down that I noticed how badly I was shaking.

I checked my phone. No text back from Sloane.

“How long we got until he gets here?”

“Don’t know. He lost his tail and some wires got crossed on our end. It’s been two days since anyone’s laid eyes on him.”

“Two fucking days!” I exploded.

Jesus fuck, he could be roaming around CDA right now with Sloane out there unprotected.

“Listen closely,” I growled. “I don’t know who you are, but I know I didn’t like your vibe. Unless you give me something right now, if I see you up here, I’m shooting your ass. Fuck your professional courtesy.”

“Jerry says he hopes you still have the bunny suit.”

The line went dead, and I was momentarily stunned.

“What did that mean?” Wilson asked from Rhode’s phone.

“Means he’s DEA. When I was with the FBI I had a long-term assignment. I was undercover for nine months in a joint operation with the DEA. My partner’s name was Jerry Mench. There was a running joke that working at the mall as the Easter Bunny would’ve been a better gig. When I left the FBI he sent me a bunny suit.”

“Well, fuck me,” Wilson seethed. “I’ll make some calls and hit you back.”

I was out of my chair grabbing my keys when I looked at Rhode. “Did you text River?”

“Yup, he’s on his way.”

“I’m not sticking around here waiting. The girls were headed to the Christmas tree farm.”

“Then he’s on his way to the farm.”