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His phone went off.
“Looks like dinner is here.” I smiled at him and got up. “You’ve thought of a cover story, right? Miguel and his men must be ready to shit themselves since they couldn’t find me.”
He frowned at me, shaking his head. “Didn’t you kill Miguel in the club?”
“No,” I said slowly. “I didn’t know what you were doing there or why you needed him. So I darted him. The chemicals in that would most likely counteract the poison. He might be in a lot of pain right now, but not dead. He’s also not going be able to remember the last few minutes in the club. Why? Were you planning on killing him?”
“I wasn’t before, but now I am,” he replied, tapping out a text, but then he paused. His eyes snapped up to me again. “He won’t remember the last few minutes. So he won’t remember holding a gun to me.”
“And you won’t forget.”
“No, I will not.” He changed his message before moving to the door. It took about a minute before there was knock. He opened the door wide, wider than he needed to. A man with shoulder-length brown hair and slim build stood holding two bags as well as my milkshake. His eyes shifted to me for a quick second before going back to Ethan.
“Everything you ordered. I was going to say we haven’t found the woman yet, but it seems you have, sir.”
“Indeed,” he confirmed. “Where is Miguel now?”
“In the hospital recovering. They said he was poisoned, and he couldn’t remember anything—”
“Go visit and let him know the next time he does anything like opening a club without my permission, or thinking he can go without me hearing about who he is meeting and seeing, I will collapse the building on top of him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you very much,” I said with an Irish accent, taking the food from his hands. “Isn’t our boss so gracious?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything to me, instead focusing on Ethan. “I’ll let you know when he’s informed.”
“We leave here at 8 A.M.,” was all he said to him before closing the door in his face.
“Smooth, nice cover.” I walked over to the couch and set the food down. “Now it looks like you planned the shooting at the club to warn Miguel, so why does your lapdog look so hurt?”
He locked the door and turned back to me. “Because he forgets he’s a lapdog. He wants the ability to give his opinions and alternatives to my directions. However, that is a mighty power to have in any organization, don’t you think?”
“Hmm…” I took a bite of my fries. “I think it’s your turn to share about your day, Ethan. Sit with me, tell me a story while I eat.”
His eyes narrowed and I couldn’t do anything but smile.
Just because I was his woman didn’t mean I stopped being my own woman…and as such, I was allowed my own secrets.
Chapter 9
“Love is every bit as violent and dangerous as murder.”
~Knut Hamsun
ETHAN - AGE 24
Houston, Texas
Friday, September 7th
She loved keeping me guessing. And I knew why. It was obvious; I enjoy it. By nature, I
could figure things out, I could put the pieces together. So often it left me bored at how simple and easy it was. She did not want me to be bored with her. That was one of many reasons.
“You’re staring, not sharing,” she said before taking a bite of her burger, her now green eyes focused on me.
“It’s hardly as interesting as yours.” I picked up the fries. “Miguel Munha is currently the leader of the Rocha cartel, one of the cartels unofficially under me. Remember the cocaine on the table while we were in Bogota?”
