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My eyes go wide at the implication. “Okay, I’m listening. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
We spend a few hours outlining a plan combining my combat experience with his hacker skills to find a way to bring Rojas andLos Tres Colombianosdown for good.
Finally, I lean back in my chair, my brain buzzing. “Why didn’t you ask Ace or Shades?”
“I did, but they said your training was more up to date.” He shrugs. “Something about video game soldiers,” and he laughs.
Wild Man nods and stands with his hand extended. “Thanks for the input, Lucky. This shit might actually work.”
I take his hand. “It’ll work. When do we start?”
“Soon. KrypTonic needs a little more time to work out some kinks, but we should be good to go in a couple of weeks,” Wild Man explains.
Tank, who’s been quiet most of the time, finally speaks up. “You two, be careful. We don’t need them to take any more brothers from us.”
“We will be, man,” I assure him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll keep me updated, right?” I ask Wild Man.
Wild Man nods. “Of course. We’ll be in touch.”
We say our goodbyes, and I walk them to the door. I grab the remaining tequila and bourbon and head to my temporary bedroom.
I feel a renewed sense of determination to prove myself to the club and to help bring down Rojas and the LTC.
CHAPTERTEN
Aria
“Uhm, hi! Hello.” I force a smile even though the boring operator doesn’t care how chipper I am, or that I'm sitting on my pink bed in my pink bedroom.
I continue, somehow believing it matters. “My name is Aria Morgan, and my father, Geoffrey—”
“Please hold.” The voice cuts off abruptly, and the sound of elevator music starts in my ear.
I let out an impatient sigh, put the phone on speaker, then lean back against the mountain of pillows piled against my headboard. This is my third call of the morning. I’ve tried the ATF, the DEA, and even the Department of Homeland Security. None of them have provided any information on the whereabouts of my father.
The music shifts to a slightly familiar tune, and I find myself humming along, trying to distract myself from my growing frustration. When the operator finally returns, her voice is slightly nasal but crisp and professional. “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Yes, hello. My name is Aria Morgan, and I’m trying to track down my father, Geoffrey Morgan. He was taken into custody—”
“Please hold.”
“Goddammit!” I’m on the verge of hurling my phone across the room. Instead, I stand up and begin to pace the length of my bedroom, my agitation mounting.
“Ms. Morgan?”
I freeze mid-step. “Yes, I’m here!”
“I’m afraid there’s no record of a Geoffrey Morgan in our records.”
“What?” I frown, gripping the phone tighter. “That can’t be. I was there when they came in. Tons of federal agents in different jackets hauled him away. I know one of these agencies has him. Please.”
“I’m sorry, that’s all I can say.” The apathetic voice on the other end ends the call before I can ask anything more.
“Fuck!” My knuckles ache, my grip on the phone growing tighter. Needing a change of scenery, I burst through my bedroom door and make my way downstairs. I push through the French doors that lead to the back terrace and gardens.
As a kid, I thought the gardens were magical. I believed I’d find another world inside every petal waiting for me to explore. Now, I know better. The garden is just another meaningless display of my father’s wealth.
Yet, Daddy is never home to enjoy the gardens, and I’ve been so busy working for Morgan International that this is the first time I’ve looked at them in months.
