Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I shook the moment of confusion away, recalling that he worked in tandem with local law enforcement. A couple of cops had been at the bar with us tonight. George hadn’t introduced us, but they’d been part of the group.
“I want my money,” I overheard as I exited the building.
That was George’s voice, an angry snap that I always dreaded in an argument.
My steps slowed. If he was in the middle of something more heated than a drunken misunderstanding, maybe I shouldn’t interfere. I paused, hesitating. All I had to do was step around the corner to join them in the quieter alley, away from the traffic on the main road.
But it sounded like I might be very unwelcome.
And what money was George talking about? I knew he liked to join in on casual bets with his friends, but I couldn’t imagine him being so angry about a few dollars.
“The boss isn’t happy,” a stranger’s voice replied, cooler than George’s heated tone. “You’re not delivering on your end of the agreement.”
“Your rivals almost killed my fiancée. If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too. You’re lucky I’m still willing to work with you at all. I’m risking my neck to do you favors. You owe me.”
My stomach churned as my thoughts slowed, sticky like honey. I couldn’t process what he was saying.
“We don’t owe you shit,” another man spat.
“I arrested three of Duarte’s men for you,” George insisted, terse and impatient.
“That’s just doing your fucking job with the feds,” the first stranger bit out. “Your boss is still investigating us. Half a dozen of us were killed in a raid last week. Where were you then?”
“I was in the hospital with my fiancée,” George growled. “I could’ve been in the ground if Duarte’s men had managed to get to me too. I’m still willing to do business with you. We can still have a profitable relationship.”
I choked as my throat constricted with horror, the meaning of his words finally sinking in. George was working with these men, these criminals. They were talking about the monsters who’d kidnapped and beaten me: their rivals. And George had known who took me all along. He’d said he needed me to tell him that information so that he could arrest the men responsible, but he knew they were Duarte’s associates.
If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too.
Now, he was demanding money from these men. These cartel members, Duarte’s rivals. Demanding a bribe.
I shook my head, as though I could toss away all knowledge of this awful conversation.
No. This wasn’t right. I was misunderstanding. George was a good man. He must be working undercover.
He must be. The alternative was too terrible to bear.
I took a shaky step back, reeling. The shoelaces I hadn’t bothered to tie properly tangled around my feet, and a shocked squeak escaped my tight chest as I fell.
A hulking stranger whipped around the corner, his eyes narrowing on me where I lay sprawled on the warm pavement. George appeared beside him, and a third man lurked at their backs.
My fiancé’s dark blue eyes widened as he took me in, his mouth going slack with horror for a moment. Then, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line that I recognized all too well. My stomach sank at the sight of it, a familiar dread that accompanied his censure.
“You shouldn’t be out here, Evie,” he rebuked.
He didn’t make a move to help me up; he simply glowered down at me where I lay on the ground.
I licked my dry lips, and my attention flicked to the two dangerous men who were half-hidden in the shadow of the alley.
“What’s happening?” I asked in a fearful whisper. “Who are they?”
But I knew. I’d heard. They worked for a cartel. And George had said…
In one smooth, lethal motion, one of the cartel members trained a gun on my heart. It didn’t have time to skip a beat before a massive shadow slammed into him. A gunshot cracked through the night air like a whip, and I tried to scramble back, instinctively seeking cover. My palms scraped on the concrete, but I didn’t manage to shuffle more than a few inches before the shadowy form of a beastly man blocked my view, looming over me.
I couldn’t force the necessary air into my chest to release a scream.
Sprinting footfalls slapped against the ground, making a quick retreat.
The shadow above me shifted, moving with swift, brutal grace. The man who’d turned the gun on me was no longer visible, but another gunshot rang out. My protective shadow let out an animal snarl, and in the blink of an eye, he disappeared into the dark alley.
A choked sound of protest caught in my throat, and I reached out as though I could somehow stop him and drag him away from the danger.