Page 46 of Dagger

“She’s right, Dagger,” Colt insisted. “I wouldn’t risk the case. We’ve been working on it for too long.” He unlocked his cell and handed it to me.

John looked between us briefly before he slumped back in his chair and jerked a nod. “Put him on speaker, and I’ll record the convo.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and placing it on the table.

Centering myself, I breathed in and out slowly before pressing my husband’s number into the cell. After three rings, the line connected, and Robert’s voice barked, “Henderson. Who’s this?”

After a brief pause, I murmured, “Robert?” making sure to keep my voice timid.

He grunted. “You’ve got a fucking nerve.”

“I need my stuff, Robert,” I whispered, injecting fear into my tone. “I want my pictures and keepsakes.”

“Come and get them,” he spat.

“You’ll kill me,” I cried.

He laughed.

I took a sharp intake of breath. “Please, Robert.”

After a pause, another soft laugh came through the line. “You’ve got some balls calling me for a favor. You’re lucky I haven’t made a bonfire and thrown your shit on it. You’ve betrayed me, Elise, and I don’t take kindly to traitors. If you want your stuff, come and get it.”

John’s face twisted.

“I’m not going back there, Robert,” I reiterated. “You’ll kill me the minute I walk through the doors. We both know our marriage is at an end, so let it be done, and we can both move on. It’s not like we were in love or that you were even faithful to me.”

“I loved you,” he bit out.

“No, Robert,” I argued softly, “You just wanted what you couldn’t have. If you loved me, you would have done anything to make me happy. Instead, you took my baby, locked me up, and made my life hell. I’m not coming back, ever. Now, you know what I want, so tell me what I need to do to get my photographs back.”

“Drop the charges,” he demanded. “Say you made it all up.”

“Done,” I agreed.

He paused briefly before saying, “It’s a good start, but that’s not enough.”

“I’ve nothing else to give you, Robert,” I cried, ramping up the panic in my voice. “Please. I need my photographs.”

“You went tohim,” he snapped.

“No, Robert, I didn’t. They pulled Brett’s car over and brought us both here. You beat me half to death, so I wasn’t in any position to argue. The club offered me a safe haven, and I’ve taken them up on it. I’m not stupid enough to come home and let you kill me, or even worse. Now, tell me what you need from me. I don’t care about the jewelry or the clothes. I just want my photographs.”

He paused before murmuring, “There is one thing you can do.”

“Anything, just tell me,” I implored.

Robert cleared his throat. “Those bikers have Brett. I want him back.”

Bingo.

“He’s still here?” I mumbled, putting on a confused tone. “I assumed they let him go.”

“He’ll be locked up somewhere in the compound,” Robert advised me. “Get him out of there and get him home before they kill him,” his voice lowered, “that’s if they haven’t already.”

I stayed silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I could ask one of the men where he is. Surely they can help.”

Colt stifled a laugh.

“No!” Robert snapped. “That club would never free him, Elise. They’ll kill him before they let him go. You have to do this without anybody knowing.”

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