Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Too bad Tahani's dad isn't here. That's one man I'd absolutely give it up for, no questions asked.
"Yeah, right," I mumble, shaking my head. "Like that'll ever happen." The man doesn't even like me, let alone want to sleep with me.
But a girl can dream, right?
I certainly do. For four freaking years, I've dreamed all sorts of wicked, naughty things about that man. They'll never be anything more than that, but damn. Just damn.
Chapter Two
Roman
"Roman, you need to calm the fuck down." Finn Bethel’s deep voice crackles through the speakers, instantly pissing me off.
I've had enough of people telling me to calm down, and they've been spouting that same bullshit for the last thirty-six hours...ever since my case went up in smoke, thanks to my partner, Brady Kaplan.
A muscle in my cheek jumps at the reminder.
"I am calm," I growl at my boss, one fist clenched tightly on the steering wheel of my truck, the other drumming against my thigh.
"Bullshit," Finn mutters as I pull to a stop at the light two blocks from my condo in Santa Cruz. "I told you that we're handling Brady. You need to stay the fuck out of it before you get your sorry ass suspended beyond the shooting investigation."
"We just lost half a million dollars in guns, Finn."
"I know," Finn sighs heavily. "Not a fucking thing we can do about it right now, though."
He's not wrong. The motherfucker we were targeting, Jose Guerrero, runs the United States arm of a drug cartel out of Sinaloa. They've been virtually unstoppable with him running things here and Pedro Francisco at the helm in Mexico. Had Brady kept his shit together, we could have figured out why they're suddenly anxious to get their hands on such a massive number of weapons. We've been hearing rumors for months that Guerrero is up to something big. We just don't know what.
Instead, Brady got antsy, blew his cover, and fucked our case, putting half a million dollars of guns into the hands of one of the most dangerous cartels in North America. Even worse, he nearly got his wife and son killed. I had to kill a fucking cartel member to save them.
"Until we know whether your cover is shot to shit, you need to lay low. You could be targeted next," Finn reminds me.
Not that I need the reminder.
I know all too well the potential consequences if Brady's fuck-up exposed my identity. It's not just my job at the ATF and my cover as a small-time arms dealer at stake; it's also my safety and that of my daughter. If Guerrero suspects that I'm the cop who killed his man, he won't hesitate to eliminate Tahani to send a message. Guerrero is ruthless and merciless. He's a goddamn nightmare to anyone who crosses him.
My hand tightens around the steering wheel, a low growl rumbling in the back of my throat at the thought of Guerrero getting anywhere near my daughter. If Brady put her in danger, I will lose my fucking mind.
I don't tell Finn that, though. I don't need another lecture about staying out of it. Brady's fucking lucky all he got was a black eye and a broken nose. He could have lost everything.
"You headed to the condo?" Finn asks when I flip on my blinker and hang a left.
"Yep. About two minutes out."
"Good. Stay there until this shit blows over," he instructs like I didn't already plan on doing exactly that.
I'm not stupid. I know how this game works. I live and breathe the fucking rules, both the ATF's and my own. Losing isn't an option for me, not when it means putting Tahani at risk. My entire life revolves around keeping her safe. It has since the day I found out she was my kid, and I will never do anything that puts her in the sights of men like Guerrero or his boss.
"Plan on it," I tell Finn anyway as I make the final turn onto my street. The smell of the ocean seeps through the vents, intensifying. The sound of waves crashing against the shore washes over me, but the familiar sound doesn't soothe me like usual. I'm wound tight and beyond pissed.
"I'll keep you advised of the situation here," Finn says.
"Yeah, thanks."
He disconnects the call.
I hit the garage door opener as my condo comes into view ahead. It's a two-story building with a sleek black exterior and a small balcony above the entrance.
The place is modest compared to most of the other homes in the area, but I don't need big and flashy. That’s never been my style.
"What the fuck?" I mutter as I pull into the driveway, staring at the red Dodge Charger parked in my garage. I've never seen the car before, and I know Tahani hasn't been here since she texted me two hours ago to tell me that she and Trent are already in love with their new place in Sacramento. The lights in the condo are off, the entire place shrouded in darkness.