Rugged Cowboy - Elana Johnson Page 0,64
tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He wasn’t sure what it meant, if anything. He knew he just wanted to leave.
He didn’t dare move.
“What do we need to do to make that happen?” the man finally asked.
“Tell me who you are,” Dallas said. “And where my wife is. I’m taking her home with me.”
“What if she doesn’t want to go?”
“It’s not her choice at this point,” Dallas said. “Her behavior is a threat to me and my children, and I simply cannot allow it to continue.” Saying that so clearly, in such a strong voice, made him feel like he could bring a resolution to this conflict.
The man stood up and made no effort to pick up his briefcase. “Let’s go talk to her then.” He walked away, and Dallas stared after him.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Dallas,” the man said. “Bring that briefcase, would you?”
Dallas got to his feet and turned his back on the guy. He bent to pick up his backpack while he dialed Nate, and then he retrieved the briefcase too. He really hoped this thing didn’t have a bomb inside and that he wasn’t walking into the belly of the beast.
“Dallas?” Nate asked.
“What’s your name?” Dallas asked, hurrying to catch up to him.
“Adam,” he said.
“That’s not your real name,” Dallas said.
“You don’t need to know my real name.”
“You know mine.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Where are we going?”
“To see your wife,” he said. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yes,” Dallas said. “This is what? Hudson Street?” He tried to talk loud enough to get the message to Nate, and his friend didn’t try to talk to him again.
The man stopped in front of the next building down to the one Dallas had been watching. He nodded to the doorman, as this building was much nicer than the one beside it. “She’s in unit 2B,” he said, opening the door for Dallas. “You’ll need the briefcase.”
Dallas looked into his eye. “What does she owe you?”
The man frowned, his glare intensifying. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Dallas growled, getting right into the man’s face. “I know she owes a bunch of money, because I’ve already worked off four grand of it while my children cried for their father. If you don’t know what she owes, find out. I’m not going in there until I know and pay it off.”
His fingers clenched tightly around the handle of the briefcase. “I’m not taking this, and I am leaving here with my wife, all of her debts settled.”
“I’ll need a moment,” he said.
“Take it,” Dallas said, his voice strong though he didn’t feel quite as tough. “You can find a thousand other people to hook on your drugs. It’s not going to be Martha anymore.”
The man nodded and lifted his phone to his ear. He stepped away, and Dallas couldn’t hear what he was saying. He quickly put his own phone in position and said, “Nate, I’m at 1155 Hudson Street. Martha’s in Unit 2B. Sending you a picture of the guy now.”
He hung up and snapped a picture of the man after he’d turned around, his phone still glued to his face. He did not look happy. Dallas did not care. Some of his attitude that he’d adopted in prison had returned, and his determination to get this situation settled had renewed.
He put the briefcase on the ground, sent the photo to Nate, who confirmed that he and Ted were on the way, and looked at Adam when he said, “Sixteen thousand.”
Dallas nodded. “All I need is an account number, and I can have the money wired within three minutes.”
“Your banks aren’t closed?”
“No,” Dallas said, because Nate had more money than Dallas had ever seen in his lifetime, and he had a banker in his pocket too. “Old family friend,” he’d said, but Nate’s voice and eyes hadn’t displayed any friendship at the time.
“I’ve got my guy standing by,” Dallas said. “You can confirm when you have the money, and I’ll go get Martha.”
Adam kept his frown in place, and it suited him so much more than the seemingly innocent businessman just walking home from work. He gave Dallas a bank account number, and Dallas dialed Sam Wiseman, the vice-president of the bank where Nate had all his money.
Dallas didn’t turn away or look away from Adam as he said, “Yeah, hi, Sam. It’s Dallas. I have that account number for you. I need sixteen thousand wired to it immediately.”
Sam started talking, clicking happening in the brief stretches of