Page 69 of His Weekend Wife

“Dec—”

“You’ve heard enough,” Phillipe muttered.

“Phillipe?”

“Yes?”

“If you harm one hair on her body, I’ll kill you. Understand?”

His harsh laugh was the last thing Declan heard before the concluding click ended the call.

He hit a number on his cell and Todd answered on the second ring. “I need one hundred grand in cash.”

“Sir, is everything okay?” Todd asked.

Declan only half-heard his assistant because he didn’t have the time to shoot the shit. “No time to explain. Have it ready in thirty minutes.” He hung up. Todd could be trusted to gather the money. No one understood Declan more, except Ash.

Acid washed up his throat. Damn! He felt somewhat responsible that she was in the unsafe hands of the bastard, Phillipe. Declan had known from the moment she’d asked for the money that something wasn’t right—or safe. And especially when she’d told him that Phillipe had taken the money for his own benefit, lying to get what he needed.

Declan dialed another familiar number. It was answered before the first ring ended. “I need your help. Can you be in Atlanta by six-thirty?”

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