Shattered Pieces (Undercover Elite Book 1)(36)

I know, from gut instinct, this meeting can’t be good. Normally, when my husband does business, it is just one man with a bodyguard visiting. This is a whole fucking parade of Colombian gangsters and I can feel my gut clenching in fear.

I hate this—always wondering when a barrage of bullets is going to shatter my world. The men my husband deals with are cold-blooded killers. It’s only a matter of time before my husband’s illegal activities catch up with him and we all have to pay the price.

I desperately want out of this lifestyle but I don’t see how it’s possible. It doesn’t matter how far I run. He will find me and if he does, he might actually follow through on his threat to kill me. I can’t bear the thought of my daughter growing up without a mother, but I can’t allow her to grow up being a gangster’s daughter either. I know he’ll use my Talia, the only good thing in my life, against me. He has all the connections he needs to convince the courts I’m an unfit mother. He has police officers, judges, and even social workers on his payroll. It doesn’t matter that it’s not true; he would make it look that way.

I wait, giving the men time to get situated in his office, before I sneak around the corner and make my way down the hallway. I hear the click-clacking of the maid’s shoes as she walks towards my husband’s office to serve coffee.

I wait until after she serves them and leaves before I ease up close to the door to eavesdrop. I remain around a corner where I can be seen until they close the door. I am pushing the limit and my adrenalin surge has clearly kicked in. My heart is beating so loudly, I’m certain they can hear it from where they sit. The only thing that keeps me standing there is my determination to find out if my daughter and I are in danger.

“You fucked up when that cargo got stolen at sea. Millions of dollars were stolen. That was over ten million dollars street value of cocaine. See, the problem I have, Mr. Taggart, is that I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t an inside job.”

“Now just hold on a fucking minute!”

“No, Mr. Taggart, you hold on a fucking minute.”

I hear the unmistakable sound of a bullet entering the chamber of a gun. I have to get the fuck out of this house. Frozen in fear, I continue listening, half expecting to hear the blast of a gunshot.

“You have three days to get me my fucking money or get my dope back. I’m certain you don’t want to put that beautiful wife and daughter of yours in danger. Maybe I’ll just kill you and take your wife. I could use a woman who looks like that on my arm.”

I cover my mouth with my hand for fear of screaming and tiptoe my way back to the bedroom. I have three days to escape with my life and the life of my daughter. My husband is dangerous enough but the Colombian Cartel takes danger to a whole new level. There is no fucking way I am going to allow my husband’s enemies to take us hostage. I am desperate. When the Colombians say you have three days, they mean it. There will be no extensions granted and there will be no mercy.





Chapter Twenty Three


Cash

“Damn, dude, she’s hot.” Hunter flicks the picture of Rhonda between his fingers before reluctantly handing it back to me.

“We don’t know if she’s alive or not. It’s just that I’m not convinced that the body Steven had cremated was hers.”

“I hope she is alive.” There’s a hint of desire in Hunter’s voice that doesn’t sound like his normal lust for a good-looking woman.

“You are such a man-whore, Hunter.”

He sheepishly smiles, “I just haven’t found the right woman yet.”

“I didn’t know you were looking.”

“I didn’t either until you showed me that picture and told me she could still be alive.”

“Look…”

“I am,” Hunter waggles his brows and snags the picture out of my hand so he can look at Rhonda… again.

“Give me the picture so you can focus your fucking ADD brain on business.”

He moves to hand me the picture but jerks it back to take one more look as he melodramatically places his hand over his heart. “Oh, be still my heart. If you’re alive, I swear on my Undercover Elite patch, I will rescue you, my fair lady.”

“Give me the fucking pic, dumbass. We’re not a biker’s club. We don’t have patches.”

“Maybe we should get some.”

His mind is already going in a different direction. “Fuckin’ ADD, just like I said. Focus, dude.”

“Okay, okay, you think she’s alive. So, we’ll do some Intel and find out. It’s simple.”

“Nothing in our line of work is ever simple,” I state. I have been at this job long enough to know that anything could happen.