Chapter 3 - The Cartel Connection
I stared at the text message until the letters blurred before my eyes.
My private investigator, a former military operative named Leo, called me immediately.
"Clara, you need to get out of that bank right now," Leo ordered in a sharp tone.
He explained that the tattooed man was named Mateo, a top-tier fixer for the Sinaloa syndicate.
Trevor had not just been running a petty Ponzi scheme to fund his lifestyle.
He had actually stolen millions from the cartel under the guise of an investment opportunity.
The cartel had clearly used my mother to drain my accounts in order to recover their stolen funds.
My mother foolishly believed she was securing a future for Hailey, completely unaware she was dealing with ruthless killers.
I realized my treacherous family was in mortal danger, regardless of their betrayal against me.
"Where did the wire transfer officially land?" I asked Leo as I sprinted back to my car.
Leo typed furiously on his keyboard, tracing the digital footprint of the stolen money.
"It landed in a shell company registered to a penthouse suite at the Grand Hotel," he confirmed.
I knew exactly which hotel he meant, as it was a property my architecture firm had recently designed.
I told Leo to meet me in the underground parking garage of the hotel in fifteen minutes.
I drove erratically through the Los Angeles traffic, my mind completely focused on survival.
When I arrived at the hotel, Leo was already waiting by the service elevator with a tactical duffel bag.
We bypassed the lobby entirely and used my master architectural override code to access the penthouse floor.
The heavy mahogany doors of the penthouse were already slightly ajar when we stepped into the hallway.
I pushed the door open silently, signaling for Leo to draw his concealed weapon.
The luxurious living room was completely trashed, with shattered glass and broken furniture everywhere.
I heard a muffled sobbing sound coming from the master bedroom.
I crept forward cautiously and peered around the corner of the doorframe.
Hailey was tied tightly to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room.
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But my sister was not alone in her misery.
A terrifying explosive device was strapped directly to her chest, with a red digital timer counting down from three minutes.
