Beast Part 4: An Erotic Fairy Tale by Ella James

Author:Ella James [James, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dpgroup.org, IDS@DPG
Publisher: Barkley's Books
Published: 2014-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Beast

I have Angel call, in the slim chance someone else has Thom’s phone. My voice is probably still memorable—at least to some people. Angel could be anyone.

I watch her face, lit by the dim parking lot lamps, as she bites her lips and waits for him to answer.

If he doesn’t answer “Thom here,” or “Thom Ford,” I’ve told her she’ll need to end the call.

I can tell when he picks up, because she stops breathing, then quickly says, “Is this Ricardo’s friend?”

He must tell her yes.

She thrusts the phone at me, and I feel a rush of nausea as I bring it to my ear. “Thom.”

“I’m sorry, Beast. It wasn’t my idea.”

Anger bubbles up inside me; I channel it the way I used to for my roles. “Yeah,” I sneer. “You fucking should be. I gave you years and this is how I get repaid?”

“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry. It really wasn’t me. I wasn’t even asked. Believe it or not, I’m not the most important person here.”

“You guys got Juan Juarez running the show now, don’t you?”

“He’d been talking shit to you,” Thom says. “Juan’s no longer leading the cartel. His younger brother Emanuel is. We need to get him back in charge, so we’ve got aour finger on the pulse of things. You know the mission.”

“Yeah,” I snap.

“We’ve gotta rearrange things so his cousin Tito takes control on the outside, and Tito’s reporting back to Juan. We had to give him some incentive. Make him feel we value him.” So in other words, I was left for dead because the Agency wants to install a more friendly Juarez Cartel head. Someone more willing to work with them. Because Juan Juarez suddenly could do more for them than I could.

“Robert Ryan?” I spit. “Was that a ‘had to,’ too?” I’m surprised by how bitter I sound.

“It wasn’t my call. It was Brown.” His boss.

“You been updated on today?” I ask. I glance left and right, because there’s no way Thom’s not tracing the shit out of my call. It’s one of the risks of calling him.

“You shot Ryan,” Thom says, “although there’s a conflicting report from prison staff that a woman did it. Annabelle Mitchell. Holt’s daughter? You must be one hell of an all-star pussy eater, Beast.”

I guess he thinks that’s the only way I could motivate someone like Angel to help me. And what the hell—maybe it is. Or “maybe she just fucking cares,” I hiss, stepping away from her. “Do you know what the last few weeks have been like for me? Ryan, Tom? You could have just fucking had me hanged.”

I take another few steps away from Angel, and I drop may voice a notch.

“She didn’t do it. I did, Thom. She was with me, but I shot that sick fuck, and I don’t regret it, either. I’m calling now because I need to get her home and get some assurance that her dalliance with me won’t end up on her record.”

He makes a thoughtful sound.

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