He growled and pressed redial on his phone, but once again he only got Tasha’s voicemail. Shit, shit, motherfucking shit.

He laid on the horn again, not because it would do any good. Just because he was so wound up he’d probably kill somebody if he couldn’t offload some of his fear and frustration.

Surely she’s okay.

Surely she just has her phone on silent.

Finally—finally—the traffic moved enough to let him turn off this motherfucking road, and once he was clear, he floored it, then laid on the horn as he blew down surface streets as he zig-zagged in and out of traffic, stopping only when traffic patterns and red lights forced the issue.

He was at just such a light when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID, saw it was Ian Taggart, and hit the button to connect the call.

“Why the hell aren’t you in China?”

“Why the hell are you calling me? I’m in kind of a rush here. Some serious shit hitting the fan.”

“So I’ve heard. I just got a call from some woman named Aly. Says she has a message for you from Natasha but didn’t know how to reach you. But she remembered you work for me, and so she called the number on the website. Gotta love the modern world, huh?”

Oh, Christ. “What was the message?” His voice was tight, and he was working to hold back his fear.

“The girl just said that they were on the phone and all of a sudden Natasha told Aly that she needed to get a new blade. Said that since the words made no sense, she figured that was a code. A message for you.”

Thank God for Allison McCray. Riley hadn’t seen her in probably six years, but in that moment, she was his best friend in the whole damn world.

The light changed and he floored it into the intersection. “Do me a favor and call Detective Garrison for me. I talked to him already, so he should be en route, but tell him the situation I told him about has escalated. I’m on my way now. And for God’s sake, Ian, tell them to hurry.”

* * * *

There’s crazy in Joanna’s eyes as she lunges at me once again, leading with the knife. And though I may be trapped, I’m not giving up. It hurts like hell, but I thrust my legs up and out, catching her in the gut and giving me a few precious seconds to climb to my feet so that I can stumble out of here.

Except I can’t climb to my feet. The wound is too bad, and as I try to rise, I stumble once more, then fall, smacking my head on the corner of the table in the process.