Jackson has a gas can in each hand, swinging them up and into the bed of the truck, and I feed him the cargo strap, where he puts them under the handles before clipping it to the eyelet and ratcheting it tight. “Not too much,” I remind him. “These are plastic cans. We don't want to crack them.”

“Roger,” Jackson says, stopping the ratchet and checking. “Good?”

I check, and there's just a little bit of slack. It's tight enough the cans won't slide, but we can still get them out if we need. “Yeah, good. Eight cans, forty gallons. That's a tank and some change extra, we can make about eight hundred miles on what we have.”

Jackson nods and looks inside the cab, where BA's baby seat in the back looks strange considering everything else. “It's going to be tight in there. Five people and a baby in a crew cab.”

“I know. Do you want to leave BA and Andrea here?.”

Jackson thinks, then shakes his head. “Katrina would want to keep Andi with us, make sure she's as connected as possible. And Katrina's only got the one laptop.”

I nod. “Do you want to bring the van so there’s more room?”

Jackson considers the vehicle, with its busted back window, and nods. “It'd help.”

I point, showing him my concern. “The window? A cop could pull you over for that.”

“We plasticked the thing once, we can do it again. If Carson or I drive it, the worst we'd get is a ticket from some cop. Actually...” Jackson says, looking at the window, his eyes going bright, “I think I can fill that in.”

“How?”

Jackson ignores me and runs toward the house, and I watch him go. I'm running out of things to do to keep myself occupied while Katrina's banging away inside, trying to keep her sources going on finding Peter. She's working hard, and last time I checked Darcy's got every underground hacker and member in New Orleans searching for us. But that means I've got little to do other than sit around with my thumb up my ass and make sure everything's ready to go.

Jackson must have found what he wanted because he comes running back out of the house, a piece of paper and a tape measure in his hand. He measures the width and height of the broken window and then runs around the back of the house, the whine of the electric saw starting up a moment later. I start to go around the house to see if I can help, but before I can, the door to the house opens and Carson sticks his head out. “Nathan! We got something!”

“What?” I ask, running inside. Carson hands me my phone, and I hold it up. “Melissa?”

“Non, mon ami,” Isis purrs into my ear, “but I have her with me.”

I want to threaten her. I want to scream to bring Melissa back. Instead I take a deep breath, and remind myself that I have to be a pro, at least for a little while. “What do you want, Isis?”

“Lafayette Cemetery, midnight tomorrow night. If you and your entire family are not there, including the baby, she dies.”

“Including the baby? He's a sick fuck, Isis. You know that, right?”

Isis hums before she answers. “Most of my clients are not what the world would consider normal. But those are his terms. If not... she gets mailed to that clinic in pieces.”

I can't help it, I shiver at the image. “I understand. One question.”

Isis pauses before answering. “What? You want proof of life?”

“That... but also a question. How did you know to look in Asheville? The clinic I understand, but why Asheville?”

“A couple of things,” Isis says. “First, those pictures. That granite is amazing, by the way. Then I remembered you talking about setting up a property in North Carolina right before our last mission. Who knows, maybe I was jealous and thought you were getting tired of me? Maybe that's why I shot you in the derrière.”

“Cashing out on an investment?” I ask, surprisingly not hurt at all. “If you say so. In any case, let me talk to Melissa. I know, it's just for a few seconds.”

“So much nicer to do this with pros than amateurs,” she replies, and the phone crackles for a moment before Melissa comes on. “Quick, and no clues, Melissa.”

“Nathan?” Melissa asks, and I feel my knees go to water, she sounds healthy at least so far, and not as scared as I thought she'd be.

“Yeah. Are you hurt?”

“I told Peter I'd bite his cock off, but so far I'm fine,” Melissa says, and I have to smile at the spirit in her voice. “Isis has been... professional.”

The phone moves again, and Isis comes back on. “So nice to be complimented for my work. Remember, Nathan. Midnight, Lafayette Cemetery. Everyone, or Melissa dies.”

The call ends, and I close my phone, tossing it to Katrina. “Track that number if you can. In the meantime, everyone get ready, we roll out in thirty minutes or as soon as Jackson's done with the van. Isis says we need to be at the Lafayette Cemetery at midnight tomorrow, or else.”

“You don't plan on making that meeting, do you?” Katrina asks, plugging in my phone. She gives me a smirk and starts typing, keeping an ear cocked even as she starts to work.

“Hell no,” I reply, a grin coming to my face. “I plan on finding Isis and Peter and making sure the only reason they need to go to Lafayette Cemetery is because that is where they're going to be spending eternity.”

Andrea, who's been watching the whole exchange, shivers and turns away. I grow concerned and come around, taking her hand. “Andi? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

“No, everything's fine there,” Andrea replies with a shake of her head. “Just... when you smiled, I saw what you used to be, Nathan. I hoped I'd never see that side of you again.”

I nod, patting her on the knee. “Twenty-four hours, and hopefully you never have to again.”

* * *

“I got something,” Katrina says as we drive down the interstate. It's nearly three in the morning, and behind us on the bench seat BA is trying to sleep in her car seat, while up front Jackson is driving the van and behind us, Andrea is tailing in the truck.

“What do you have?” I ask, trying not to jump all over her. Katrina's been a trooper, working in the pitch blackness of the back of the van's rearmost seat. The satellite connection seems to be holding relatively steady, but I can't really tell, and she's been constantly working. “You have their location?”

“No, Darcy thinks Peter's got his car off right now,” Katrina says. Figures. If Coup De Grace can't get it done, BlakDhal1A can. It makes sense, too. Darcy in her home has the higher speed connection and a better setup than a laptop. But she's got confirmation of the system attached to that Porsche he's driving, and even had a two second signal, enough to get a general location, but not enough to give her a full GPS location.”

“What does she say about the feed?” I ask, and Katrina taps away for a second.

“She says it got her a lock to the center of New Orleans, but that she couldn't get closer in the time she had. But she doesn't think that's where he's holding Melissa. She got a reading within a mile, but most of it is either nice housing or nightlife. Not the sort of place to stash a kidnap victim.”

“Okay. Then next thing I want you to do is get some rack time,” I tell Katrina. “When we go unleashing hell tomorrow, I need you rested.”

“But...” Katrina says, then sighs and nods. “You're right. Okay, five minutes, then I'm moving closer to the front to catch Zs.”

“You can move at the truck stop. How's BA?”

“Amazing. I have the world's best daughter,” Katrina says softly, looking over at the baby seat. “I've got a nearly perfect family.”

“What would make it perfect?” I ask. “Better care of our rear windows?”

“Oh, I don't know, I think Jackson did pretty good,” Katrina says, glancing back and smiling. “We get Melissa back, and you officially join the family... that'd make it damn near perfect.”

“We'll get her,” I promise Katrina. “And I’ll do everything I can to keep you all safe.”

Katrina shakes her head and pats me on the shoulder. “You do that, it's the perfect recipe for getting one of us killed. You fight, you focus on rescuing 'Lissa. We'll take care of ourselves.”

We ride to the truck stop, where we pull in and do a quick bathroom break. I top off the gas tanks for both vehicles, I don't want to use the gas cans unless we have to, and besides it gives everyone a chance to do what needs to be done in terms of changeover, piss breaks, and even grabbing a snack as needed. If we move quickly, we can have more than twelve hours to put something into motion in New Orleans itself.

While I'm paying for gas Katrina comes up, putting an energy drink on the counter. “Make sure you're able to make it another two hours. This one's for Carson, you need one?”

I shake my head, giving her an appreciative look. “I'm good. Remember, I racked out for the first two hours of the trip. When we get to outside New Orleans, I'm halting everyone for an hour as well, unless something changes. I'll be able to sleep.”

“Gotcha,” Katrina says, handing me a five. “By the way, the download's going well, I'll have it running on my laptop soon. Darcy says she's staying up, Jeff's working the NOPD side, and we've got support all night if we need it. She'll call my cell if there's anything immediate.”

“Okay. How're Andrea and Carson doing?”

“Andi's tired, but Carson's good. Andi's been driving since we left, so Carson's gotten a good amount of sleep. We're looking good.”

I nod, and lead Katrina outside. “Okay then. You and Jackson go down, crash out. I've got the wheel for the next three hours.”

Katrina nods and yawns, climbing into the van where Jackson's already laid out, giving him a kiss on the cheek before curling up on the bench seat. I go over to the truck, where Carson is already behind the wheel. “Here. Katrina thought you'd appreciate it.”

Carson takes the can and nods. I look over, where Andrea's already snoring lightly, and Carson follow my eyes. “She's a trooper.”

“She is,” Carson says softly. “Nathan... I didn't want to say anything around the others, but if the shit hits the fan tomorrow, and I don't make it out...”

“I'll take care of them both,” I reassure Carson, patting him on the shoulder. He doesn't know it, but I've already thought about that, and have positioned him in a way that gives him the best chance of survival. “But don't even think about that. You know what you need to think of?”

“What?”

“Safe driving, and what you are going to name your baby. You hoping for a girl or a boy?”

“A boy,” Carson admits with a little sheepish grin. “Someone to balance out BA. Then we look at who you guys will have, or we just work on more. I'd like three, maybe four kids.”

“Sounds good. You use what we've practiced, and the wits you have already shown, and you will be coming home to Andrea safe and sound. First step though, we get to New Orleans safe.”

Carson nods, and cranks the engine on his truck, the powerful motor idling contentedly. “I'm ready.”

Walking back to the van, I think that Carson's right. We're as ready as we can be.