Page 67 of Shattered

“After you called about Dad’s notebook, I dug deeper, trying to find the common denominator between Los Tredos and the Bolotov Bratva.”

Stupid. So stupid. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on lowering my heart rate rather than taking a few swings at him. It was one thing to go after a major drug gang and the mafia when you had the full backing of the police department behind you. It was another to foolishly go rogue.

“I found the connection, Koen. Bolotov’s nephew, Zasha Popov, aka Z.”

“The fuck did you say?” I shot to my feet, phone already in my hands.

“We’re in the air, Koen. Tell me you’ve got her.”

“Not yet, but Duncan, listen close. Z is Zasha Popov, Bolotov’s nephew. Get Nelson on it.”

“Fuck,” I heard him grunt as I disconnected the call.

“They figured out you were on to them, Riley. We need to move now before it’s too late.”

The doorknob was in my hand when Reed burst through, knocking me back on my heels. Jett rushed in behind him.

“Sorry, but we’ve got Macha. He’s at his compound near San Andreas Lake.”

“The AirTag signal is in the same area, Koen. She’s there.”

“Get everyone suited up, Riley. We’re going hunting.”

Hang on a little longer, Angel. I’m coming.

17WWKD?

Jade

My shoulders screamed in agony from the position they had me in. I was tied to a damn chair for the second time in my life. It was two too many but, somehow, I knew these memories would be harder to erase.

“I thought you said you had Banks’s woman?”

I’d only caught bits and pieces of the conversation happening behind me, but whoever the voice belonged to was seriously pissed.Good. Thanks to the drugs the asshole gave me, I’d been fading in and out of consciousness for the last little while. I had no clue where I was or who had taken me. The only thing I remembered was briefly waking up in the back seat of a car.

“She was with him at the hospital. Who else would she be?”

“How the fuck should I know? Could be some chick he’s banging on the side, but she isnotRiley Banks's fiancée.”

Damn. First a marriage of convenience, now mistaken identity and apparently…other woman drama. If only my life were as simple as a romance book where there's a guaranteed happily ever after. Instead, I’m stuck in a B-rated horror flick.

“I think she’s awake.”

Shit.

Heavy footfalls thudded against the floor. The closer they got, the faster my pulse raced. Then red-hot pain shot through my scalp and neck as my head was yanked back at an awkward angle. My eyes flew open, then I fought to keep them that way against the harsh overhead light.

A good-looking olive-skinned man stood over me. His dark hair and even darker eyes matched the sinister vibe I felt in his presence.

“What’s your name?”

Here’s the thing about self-preservation. It manifested itself in a variety of ways when confronted with terrifying situations. Some would shut down, opting to go with the flow rather than rock the boat. Me? Apparently, I grew a set of balls the size of boulders and asked myself, “What would Koen do?” He’d deflect, then try to figure a way out of the mess he found himself in. I went with option one since option two seemed impossible with my hands tied behind my back.

“You first.”

The punch to my stomach came from out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of me. I hadn’t even seen the guy who took me standing off to the side. He grinned a salacious smile while I gasped for air.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’m Victor Macha.”

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