Page 99 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
“I do. And if you’ve got my friend, I’ll hand it over to you. If not?—”
“You’ll what? Hunt me down and make me pay? If you could, you would have already. Although, it would be entertaining to see you try.”
“You won’t last long enough to enjoy it.”
There’s a scrape through the line, like he’s moved a chair back, but his voice is lower, closer to the receiver, tone darker. “Fine. One hour. The Bellmont. Top floor. Come alone.”
He disconnects the line before Harper can deliver a scathing reply. Probably for the better. She seems to know how to get under his skin.
The Bellmont is a twenty-minute drive, so there’s no rushing her out of the public space.
It’s an odd choice for a meeting like this. The top floors of the building are condos, but the rest of the building is rented outto large organizations, packed with CEOs, lawyers, and high-end business clientele.
Why have her meet him there?
I dig through files and firewalls, searching for some small vulnerability, their security protocols, leasing agreements—anything that can give us the upper hand before sending her in.
Grant signals for Harper to get up from her table when Trent pulls the car up to the curb. And we both watch her get in before either of us move.
Grant pulls his own car up to the corner, and I slip inside.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Grant says the moment my door closes.
Yeah. Me, too. But we don’t have a lot of options, and regardless of his instructions for her to go alone, we’d never leave her without backup.
As we zoom through the city, I plug back in, unearthing every kernel of information I can—relevant or not—and by the time we come to a stop, I’ve traced the owners for the top floor condo back through several shell corporations before the link to the cartel becomes more evident.
The owner is one Pedro Pérez, and he has a clear link toLa Sangre Nueva.
There’s no way the boss would have his name on the paperwork, but the link is all I need to build our backup plan.
I’m set up and monitoring Harper from a nearby coffee shop while the other two are in place within the building.
We got the details an hour ago, and she’s walking into his condo in three, two, one…
She steps through the door, and I capture the first few glimpses she has of the open floor plan.
I gave her a hidden bug that she can turn off if she’s swept for them and turn back on once they’re done, so I don’t panic when my feeds cut because its back on in less than thirty seconds.
Granted, those are the longest thirty seconds I’ve ever experienced.
The images pop back on, framing three men who stand around the space. It’s high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. Bland white couches and hardwood floors.
Sunny is sitting, zip-tied and gagged, on the corner of the couch directly across from Harper. Her hair is limp and falling in her face. Dark circles are pronounced under her eyes. She doesn’t seem to be bruised and battered, which is a good sign.
But we are only privy to her face.
Her eyes are wide-eyed, portraying abe carefulmessage to Harper.
The piece of shit cartel gangbanger sits on the cushion beside hers, lounging with a drink and a satisfied smile. He’s scarred, tough, and doing his best to look intimidating.
I’ve seen a million just like him, but I doubt Harper has.
She seems to be keeping her own. They would worry if she wasn’t at least a little terrified of being alone and surrounded by such dangerous men.
“So, I’ve got what you want, you’ve got what I want. If you were half as good at logistics as you are at threats, we’d both be on our way home by now.”
I whisper to her in the earpiece planted in the temple of her glasses, coaching her. “Stay calm, Harper. You don’t want to rile him up too much too early.”
