Page 80 of Great White
I survey the two men in front of me. Taylor is the picture of poise. Not one feather is ruffled, Tate, on the other hand, looks desperate. It’s not on his face or in the way he’s standing — it’s in his eyes. They’re sharp and distressed. Pleading with me to just cooperate. It kills me to do so, but I think Taylor is right; they’re all I have left.
I blow out a hot breath of resignation and pick up the pen. As soon as I touch the point to the paper, I can hear Tate’s audible sigh of relief.
I jot a few things down, then slide the notebook back to Taylor. “A list of stash houses, drop points, and the name of a shipping company.” I can’t even look at them as I explain. I feel like I’m tearing apart the life I built brick by brick.
Taylor reads over my notes and nods like he’s impressed. “Smart.”
I slide my eyes up to him. “I know. That’s what we wanted to be, smarter than the average cartel. More business, less bullshit. I don’t see how any of this is going to help anyway. Stefania is dismantling the Deltoros.”
“That may be true, but if Tate is right, and Stefania is joining the Rayases to be with Marco, Raffi might put some of these to use for himself. We can watch and implement where we need to.”
“More undercovers.” I curl my lip.
“Mmm-hmm. You’re a quick study.”
“So, what now?”
“Now you get used to your temporary home while we figure out what our next move is.”
“Next move?” I raise my eyebrows.
“This is a good start.” Taylor taps the notebook against his hand. “But we’re gonna probably need more.”
“More?”
“Yup. Your supplier south of the border will do nicely.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“Nope.” He smiles incredulously. “I’ll be in touch.”
With that, Taylor takes his leave.
I glare at Tate from across the room. This whole situation fucking sucks.
“I’m going to need witness protection by the time you're done with me.”
“That option isn’t off the table.”
“Fantastic. So, what do we do now? Just sit here and stare at each other?”
“Pretty much.” Tate kicks off his shoes and lays on one of the twin beds. He picks up the remote and turns on the TV, making himself way too comfortable for the situation.Men.“Tacos for dinner?”
“Ugh,” I groan, disgusted as I storm off into the bathroom, the only place I can be alone.
* * *
Crunch,crunch, crunchis all I hear behind the door, well, that and the announcer’s voice to a basketball game. Tate followed through with tacos for dinner.
My stomach rumbles from just the mere thought of food. I haven’t had anything all day.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.The sound of the hard tortilla tortures me, and my body rebels. I’m exhausted, I’m starving, and mentally drained. Decent food and a peaceful rest sound like a recipe to recovery and normalcy. I swallow the jagged little pill called pride and depart from the bathroom.
It’s dark now, and the room’s lights give off a horrid shade of orange against all the dull brown.
Tate stops eating and watches me from the single seat at the small, round table.
I suck in a deep breath, preparing to make a temporary peace when there’s a sharp pain in my side.
