Chase weaved in and out of traffic, his eyes constantly on the lookout for police. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to balance speed with caution.
"I can't wait to get my hands on you," he said out loud, thinking of the bearded gunman.
He considered calling Avery or Nathan, but he didn't want to jump the gun. He had no idea of the assailant's condition, where Chambers held him, or even if the guy would still be there when Chase arrived. Besides, it was nearly noon. Avery and Nathan were probably at their all-day party by now.
When Chase finally arrived at the garage, he was surprised to see that it was empty. There were no people anywhere. The door was open, so he pulled all the way in, looking around for signs of life. The tools and equipment were all just as they were. In fact, there was a half-stripped Honda Civic off to the side—which wasn't there before.
He stepped out of the car and immediately noticed the spot where Avery nearly died. Where he pressurized her wounds for what seemed like an eternity. Where he healed her.
Chase felt a bit queasy at the memory of what happened. There were no signs of blood, but the floor in that area was cleaner than the rest of the garage.
Suddenly, Spider Web emerged from the back door, holding a unique-looking three pronged wrench. He took two quick steps toward the Civic and stopped in his tracks when their eyes met. He hesitated for a moment, and then tossed the wrench on a table and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. His body language was completely different than it was the first time they met.
He approached, almost affectionately, fist bumping Chase in greeting.
"That was some serious chuck, yo," he said. "Sorry about your girl, man."
"Yeah," Chase said, realizing that they must all think that Avery was dead. Why wouldn't they?
"That psycho son of a bitch who shot her is inside. Come on, I'll show you."
He led Chase through the back door, but instead of taking the inner hallway, they took a small staircase going up. The second level was not large, but it was far more private. The floor creaked as they walked, and the whole place smelled of old wood. It appeared to be an office, likely used for administration back when the business was legitimate.
When Chase entered, the men inside all looked in his direction as if they had been waiting for him. Chambers was there, skinny and wiry as usual. His dark hair was bound in a pony-tail, and he still wore his hipster dark framed glasses.
Two of the other men looked like hired muscle. A third man was in the midst of a heated discussion with Chambers, which was cut off when Chase entered.
The assailant with the close cropped blond beard sat in a chair. He was not bound, nor was he gagged, but he had been beaten pretty badly. His left eye was swollen and he had caked blood underneath both nostrils.
Chase immediately approached Chambers and shook his hand, saying, "I owe you one."
"You owe me two," Chambers corrected.
"Right," Chase said, wincing at the idea of owing Chambers twice.
"Like I told you," Chambers said, "nobody does business here without my permission. It was my pleasure to capture this man for you. The nerve of coming into my place of business and firing a weapon!" He shook his head in mock outrage. "Regardless, this turn of events is advantageous for both of us. I have need of your services, and since you are here, you can pay me back—today."
