Page 143 of Dark Angel
He could feel it in his gut.
He ran to his truck, jumped behind the wheel. Again, he checked her location. Still en route, heading west on Columbia Pike in Arlington.
After hitting the gas, he grabbed his phone, called Angelo. As it rang, reality rained down on him.
Angelo’s gone.
His chest squeezed.
Refocusing, he jumped on I-395, flying past the other vehicles on the highway. Without warning, bright red brake lights illuminated the dark night. Gabriel slammed on his. Four cars were parked on the shoulder, several cop cars, a bunch of people being arrested. Once he passed the slowdown, he roared past everyone.
Faster.
He wanted to check Halston’s location, but a weaving driver had him focused on the road ahead. Gabriel cut over two lanes, slowed again, and watched in horror as a car flew past, clipping the weaving driver.
CRASH!
Metal against metal, the vehicles started spinning out. Gabriel swerved hard right, driving onto the shoulder as one of the cars soared into the air, crashing in the grass. He glanced inhis mirror. Cars were swerving, some screeching to a halt, others hitting each other. While his impulse was to pull over and help, he stayed on point.
Halston needs me.
Instead, he called for help.
“What’s your emergency?” asked the operator.
“There’s a big accident on I-395, Bailey’s Crossroads. Total shit storm.”
“Are you in it?”
“No. One of the cars was weaving, another clipped it, they both spun out. Several more couldn’t stop in time.”
Gabriel slowed, checked the app, then took the Backlick Road exit heading toward Annandale.
“What’s your name,” asked the operator.
“Concerned Citizen.” Gabriel hung up.
He slowed for the red light coming off the exit ramp. He would have run it, but there was a car stopped ahead of him. He checked Halston’s location. She was in an unmarked building in Annandale. The light turned green, the driver didn’t move. Gabriel honked, the driver inched through the intersection.
“What the hell?”
He pulled around, cleared the intersection and hit the gas. GPS put him at five minutes out. Though his heart rate wasn’t elevated, he was concerned… very concerned. Rather than get caught up in the “what ifs” he kept his attention on the road, on the other cars.
Three minutes later, he sped into the parking lot, slammed on his brakes at the entrance, and cut the engine.
A stand-alone building with prison bars over the windows. No lights in the parking lot, none on the building. The place looked abandoned, but the lot was filled with twenty vehicles and a smattering of motorcycles.
He jumped out of his truck, shoved on his helmet, strapped on his long rifle. He was going to find Halston and take out anyone who stood in his way. At the front door, he pulled the handle.
Locked.
As adrenaline pounded through him, he pulled his CANiK.
BANG!
He yanked open the door and stormed inside. The lights were so dim, he lowered the goggles.
A members-only nightclub. He scanned in search of his target. Booths were filled with couples, several people were seated at the bar. A brute of a man strode over.
