“Okay.”

“Do me another favor, call me a cab and have them pick me up six blocks south toward the main road.”

“Will do.” I shut the door, hoping Tyler isn’t dumb enough to fuck up those two simple requests. As I’m walking away, I have to fight everything in me that wants to turn around, knock on her door, and hold her. Being this close and not able to hold her is torture. God, I miss the feel of her skin against mine, the smell of her hair, the sound of her laugh. I just miss her. Even though I want nothing more than to go to her, I keep walking, knowing it’ll be a disaster if I do that now.

An hour later I’m pulling up to the shithole I’ve been calling home for the past month. I take notice of the car parked beside me. I’ve never seen it before, so I have no idea who could be here now. Walking around the back of the car before heading to the door, I look at the license plate.

TAW 636

I pull my wallet out and jot it down on a scrap piece of paper. There’s always a really small pencil stashed in the bottom for things like this.

When I’m done, I put it in my back pocket and open the door to the house. And that’s when I’m completely blindsided.

TWO GUYS GRAB me by my arms as soon as I’m through the door. When I look over at them, I see it’s Rodney and Bruce. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask as I struggle against their hold. I’m able to pull my right arm free and land a punch to Rodney’s face. His hands go to his face and he hunches over in pain. My head snaps to Bruce when I hear the familiar sound of a gun being cocked, causing me to freeze in my spot.

“Why don’t you calm down and have a seat?” My eyes glance up to see a tall, broad guy walking toward me with his gun pointed at my face. In the middle of the room is a single chair, and my instincts are starting to kick into high gear. Both guys guide me to it and begin tying me up once I’m seated. Great, I’m strapped to another chair. This looks promising.

As he walks closer to me, I get the feeling I know him from somewhere. It’s driving me crazy, but I definitely recognize his face. He has a darker complexion, with dark-brown hair and eyes, but it’s the distinct scar which runs down his cheek that stands out.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” I say once he’s in front of me. I know I’m being a smart ass and I might pay for it, but I have to play it cool.

He puts his hand on the back of my chair and leans down into my face. “No, we haven’t had the pleasure, Alex. But let’s not waste time on introductions and get down to business.” It’s not lost on me that he avoided telling me who he is, but as I stare at him, it clicks.

One of my buddies works for the DEA. I went over to his place one afternoon to have a few beers and watch some football. He had a file open on his kitchen table that he was working on, and this guy’s picture was lying on top. I can’t remember his name, but I know he’s involved with one of the prominent drug cartels in this country. What I don’t understand is how he ties in with Cal.

“It seems we have a little problem,” he says while still perched on the back of my chair. I almost don’t see it coming it happens so fast. He rears back and punches me right in the gut. I double over as much as I can while tied up and gasp for breath. I’ve been hit quite a few times in the stomach, but it never sucks any less. The wind is knocked out of me and I cough a few times trying to find my air again.

“You’ve had several weeks to complete this job. Yet, it’s still not done. I can’t help but feel like you’re pussyfooting around for a reason.” Before I have a chance to respond, he lands a jab right to my jaw. Pain explodes on impact and ripples out through the rest of my head. I bring my focus back up and glare at him. Now I’m just fucking pissed.

I turn my head to the side and spit to rid my mouth of the blood that’s filling it. “Do you want to hit me again, or do you want to hear what’s going on?” I croak out, my stomach and jaw still aching.

“By all means, inform me.” His fake politeness does nothing to soothe the anger festering inside of me. He takes a couple steps back, giving me some room.

“You can’t just go in and take a guy out and expect to get away with it. It has to be precise, calculated, perfect.”

“But you’re supposed to be the expert. Why is it taking you so long to plan out such an easy task?” he asks sarcastically. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m hardly an expert at killing innocent people, and it’s been quite a while since I’ve practiced long distance shooting of this magnitude. But I keep all of it to myself since that info would probably result in my death. Right now they need me, and the longer I can make them believe that, the more time I have to bring this asshole and everyone else he’s working with down.

“In the military, some missions would take weeks—months even—to plan. You don’t just go in guns a blazing and expect positive results.” He doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “Right now I’m watching Hutchison during his campaign speeches. I’m looking for patterns, weaknesses, and opportunities. I can’t gather that type of information in a matter of days or weeks. It takes some time. If you want this done right, then you need to back off and let me do what you brought me in here to do.” It’s hard to feel confident when you’re tied to a chair, your mouth is bleeding, and your stomach is bruised, but I hope my unwavering eye contact is enough. He needs to understand I’m not intimidated by him, but most importantly, he needs to believe all the bullshit I just fed to him.

He waves his finger at me. “You’re skating on thin ice, my friend. Just know that if I have to come back, it won’t be you that’s tied to the chair.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end with his implication. I do my best to push it to the back of my mind and focus on the task at hand.

Before he gets out the door, I say, “Hey, I’ve got a question.” He pauses and turns to face me, arching an eyebrow in annoyance. “What’s in all of this for you? Why do you care if Hutchison is dead?”

“Let’s just say me and my crew hate making poor investments.” He turns on his heels and walks out of the door. I run that sentence through my mind several times. Poor investments? Was Hutchison involved with them somehow and a deal went bad? Is this payback? As Rodney gives me a warning and cuts the ties off of me, I know one thing for certain. I have to come up with a reason to leave and get this information to my boss as soon as possible. This guy could be the connecting link we’ve been searching for.

TODAY HAS BEEN perfect. Actually, every day since I got assigned to Cal’s case has been perfect. I think I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally gotten Elizabeth to let down her guard enough for me to see the real her. And the real her is fucking amazing. She’s smart, kind, vibrant, gorgeous, and perfect for me in every way.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I say, “Nothing really.” We’re both laying down on the couch in my living room. Her arm is draped over my chest with her chin resting on it while she looks up at me. This is the most content I’ve felt in a long time. She has the ability to wipe away all the bad shit that’s hiding in the back of my mind. Memories that I’d wished to God I could forget. I’d done a lot to outrun my past—the things I’d seen and done—but wasn’t successful. Little did I know all I needed was this incredible woman to keep the ugly away.