Page 83 of Dangerous Pursuit

“Her mom entered the program with her. She did have a choice, but unfortunately, would’ve been facing charges related to illegal gambling if she decided to deal with the situation herself.” He has the audacity to shrug like it’s no big deal.

“You son of a bitch!” I slam my fist on the table. “That’s not a choice. You fucking blackmailed her, asshole.”

He holds his hands up, palms facing me. “Now, let’s just calm down. I’d hate to arrest you for disorderly conduct.”

Taking a deep breath and sitting back again, I try to calm myself, knowing I need to keep this guy talking so I can figure out how to fix this fucked-up situation.

“How long are you keeping her for?”

“As long as it takes. These things can go years before a trial, and that itself could take months longer.”

“Did you allow her to tell anyone?” I’ve got to be missing some piece of the puzzle.

“Mia was allowed to say goodbye to whoever she wanted, along with a vague explanation. In fact, a boy her age stopped by this morning.”

Fuck this guy. I’m sure he knows everyone who’s been in and out of her place for weeks. I’m betting her phone was tapped, her every movement tracked. And I’m positive it’s no coincidence that they pounced after her eighteenth birthday so they could talk to her without an adult present and take advantage of avulnerable young woman who would play right into their hands. And because I fucked up, I wasn’t there to help.

She said goodbye to Walker but didn’t feel the need to tell me. That’s how pissed she is. It’s not rocket science knowing this is my fault. Had I not had security digging, we would have paid the debt yesterday as planned, with the FBI having no idea she even existed. Now she’s in so deep, there might not be anything I can do to pull her out.Fuck!

“Are there any other options? There must be another solution without endangering or compromising her whole life.” This can’t be the end.

“Now you’re asking the right questions. It just so happens that there’s an angle we were working, but we kept hitting dead ends. What do you know about her dad, Roland Marcos?”

What the hell?

“I’m betting less than you do, considering I didn’t even know his name until you said it the other night. He left them a few years ago to feed his gambling addiction. Like you said yesterday, he ran off, and Mia got caught in the crosshairs.”

“Where do you think he got that loan? Those usually come from the top, which means he has a direct connection. I reckon his testimony would be better than Mia’s. I would also think a father would take his daughter’s place if he knew she was in a bad situation. We wouldn’t need Mia’s testimony if we had his.”

“So why don’t you focus on finding him?”

“We did, but we don’t have unlimited resources or time, and with Mia practically served up on a platter, we didn’t need to anymore. However, if someone were to bring us a better option, we’d have no reason to turn that down, now, would we?” The asshole knows exactly what he’s doing by drawing attention to my fuckup. This was his plan all along.

“Is this what it sounds like? If I find her dad, you’ll trade him for Mia?”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.” The desire to break this guy’s nose is overwhelming, but I keep myself in check for Mia’s sake.

“I wouldn’t know where to start. If you haven’t found him with yourlimited resources, what makes you think I stand a chance?”

“Your incentive.” The fucker’s finally right about something.

“So, let’s pretend I succeed and show up on your doorstep with a present. How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain and release Mia?”

“You don’t, but I’ll give you my word that if you deliver, I’ll present you with a gift in return. Shake on it?” He holds his hand out, but I remain still, causing him to drop it while raising his brows in question.

“What about those bogus gambling charges? If I agree to be your pawn and succeed at bringing him in, I want those off the table.” This time, my hand is out first.

We have a deal.

NEWER BEGINNINGS

Mia

Progress. Yesterday was my first full day without crying a single tear. So far, it’s been sixty-five days—well, sixty-six now, but who’s counting…? If it weren’t for signing up for online classes over the summer and starting college early, the transition would have been worse. As it is, I’ve been pretty distracted by all that, along with my part-time job, leaving not much room for wallowing.

But when I turn the lights off and climb into bed, I can’t seem to hold back—until last night. Sure, I stayed up until I was a zombie finishing an essay, but the point is, I did it. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep with no tears. There’s hope for me yet.

When I go into the kitchen for coffee, I’m surprised to see Mom there. “Good morning. Why are you still home?”

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