Chapter 3 - The Interception
I drove like a madman through the slick streets of the city.
The tires screeched as I took corners at double the speed limit.
The cartel did not pay bail out of the kindness of their hearts.
They wanted Emma out of police custody so they could collect their money in blood.
I arrived at the downtown precinct just as a sleek black SUV pulled up to the release doors.
Two large men in dark suits stepped out, their eyes locked on the heavy metal doors of the station.
I parked my car diagonally across the crosswalk, blocking their exit path.
I reached under my driver’s seat and pulled out the heavy steel tire iron I kept for emergencies.
The precinct doors buzzed loudly, and Emma stepped out into the cold night air.
She was shivering, wearing a cheap oversized police hoodie over her ruined wedding dress.
When she saw the two men approaching her, she froze in panic.
"Emma, get in the car!" I roared, sprinting across the wet pavement.
The men turned toward me, reaching into their jackets.
I swung the tire iron with everything I had, shattering the nearest man’s kneecap.
He went down with a heavy grunt, clutching his leg.
The second man pulled a suppressed pistol, but I bashed the heavy iron against his wrist before he could aim.
The gun clattered into the storm drain.
I grabbed Emma by the fabric of her hoodie and threw her toward my sedan.
"Move!" I yelled.
We scrambled into the car just as the injured man reached for his ankle holster.
I slammed the accelerator, clipping the open door of their SUV as we sped away into the night.
Emma was hyperventilating in the passenger seat, her hands trembling violently.
"Who were those men?" she choked out, tears streaming down her bruised face.
"The people your new husband owes money to," I replied grimly.
"Blake wouldn't do this to me," she whispered, still trapped in her delusion.
"He loves me."
"He sold you to save his own skin," I said, refusing to sugarcoat the reality.
My phone rang again, and this time, the caller ID showed Blake’s number.
I put it on speaker so Emma could hear the truth for herself.
"Hello, father-in-law," Blake's arrogant voice echoed through the car.
"Where are you, Blake?" I asked calmly.
"On a private jet, halfway over the Atlantic," Blake laughed.
"Tell Emma I said thank you for the distraction at the precinct."
"You set her up," I stated.
"She was an easy mark," Blake sneered.
"By the way, you might want to check the trunk of your car."
"Why?" I asked, my grip tightening on the wheel.
May you like
"Because I planted the three million dollars in stolen cartel cash in your spare tire compartment," Blake said cheerfully.
"The police are tracking the GPS chip inside it right now."
