On the highway close to the West Lake Center, Roland quickly answered the call from Taylor, placing the phone to his ear. “Detective Wayne…”
“Mr. Smith,” Taylor replied in a whisper, each breath coming tight. “Where are you?”
“I’m close,” Roland answered. He gripped the phone tighter and glanced out the windshield. “I got your message, just hang on.”
“Okay, hurry,” Taylor said.
Roland hung up the phone. He placed it back beside him and stepped on the acceleration pedal. He’d made a promise to Gerald not to let anything happen to his assistant and to Zoey. He couldn’t break that promise. Not when he was they’ve not even neared the rough part.
Roland blinked, eyes narrowing as soon as he caught sight of the three men in black suits. One of them was taking out a gun from behind his belt.
