A Beautiful Lie (Playing with Fire #1)(108)

“Here’s a lesson for you, *. Don’t f*ck with me,” Parker muttered into the quiet room.



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“Don’t be a dumbass, McCarthy. You can’t do this by yourself,” Brady argued as they walked into the room Garrett and Parker shared.

“We don’t have any other options. I am not waiting another minute to get her the hell out of there,” Garrett replied as he stalked over to the nightstand, pulling out his Beretta Jetfire backup weapon and his Navy SEAL issued MK3 MOD knife. He lifted his foot and rested it on the edge of the bed, placing the gun safely into his leg holster and tucking the knife into his boot.

“This is suicide, McCarthy, plain and simple. Fernandez gets one look at you, he’s going to shoot first and ask questions later,” Brady stated.

Garrett smoothed his pant leg down over the weapons, put his foot back on the floor, and turned to face Brady.

“That’s why I need you to stay here, get me some back-up, and make sure that doesn’t happen. The longer I wait to get over there and get to her…” Garrett stopped, placing his hand over his mouth to keep from doing something stupid like breaking down.

In the middle of their argument, they hadn’t noticed the door to the bathroom opening or Margarita coming out of it.

“I want to help,” she stated calmly.

Both men turned to stare at her.

“Out of the question,” Brady replied as Garrett dismissed her and turned back to face him.

“Just figure out a way to get me into the―”

“STOP!” Margarita yelled, throwing her hands in the air and interrupting Garrett. “This is my fault. I should have done something before now. I shouldn’t have been such a coward. I need this chance to make things right. Please, let me fix this.”

Brady glanced over at Garrett to see what his decision would be, and Garrett stared in contemplation at Margarita.

“Not that I’m agreeing to this, but what exactly do you propose?” Garrett asked.

Margarita took a deep breath and walked closer to the two men.

“Emilio is expecting me back any moment. The only vehicle that will be permitted into the palace is mine, especially now that they have your Parker. They won’t take any chances,” she told Garrett, before turning to face Brady. “I’m assuming you have access to some kind of recording device, correct?”

Brady nodded in response before muttering a curse and rushing over to Garrett’s laptop that sat open on the table.

“What’s wrong?” Garrett asked as Brady continued cursing under his breath, tapping rapidly on the keys.

“Give me a second,” Brady replied distractedly as he typed in passwords, opened several different programs, and entered the appropriate parameters.

“Son of a bitch,” Brady finally said in astonishment.

Garrett came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

“Is that the bug Parker was wearing earlier when we were waiting for our mystery guest to arrive?” Garrett asked in shock. He ripped his off at the hospital and threw it in the trash, assuming Parker had done the same thing.

As he stood there staring at the screen, he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. A small, black box stood out in the center of the page, the audio graph filling the box with white lines and jagged strokes to indicate speech patterns. The word “recording” blinked in the upper right-hand corner, right next to the word “Parker”.

Garrett lunged for the button on the keyboard that would turn on the sound. Parker’s voice was right there, within his reach. There was nothing stopping him from being able to hear her.

Except for Brady.

His hand shot out and latched onto Garrett’s before he could press the speaker button.

“What the f*ck, Marshall? Let go!” Garrett shouted as he struggled against Brady’s grip.

“I think you need to let me listen to this first and see what’s going on,” Brady told him calmly as he held onto Garrett’s wrist.

‘Fuck you!” Garrett yelled irrationally, yanking his arm out of Brady’s clutch. “She’s right there! Parker is there on the other end of that God damn computer. Let me hear her!”

Brady sighed and shook his head.

“And what if it’s not her? What if that thing is just picking up dead air or it got ripped off of her at some point and thrown out the window and it’s recording traffic driving by? Or what if it is her and you hear things that you don’t want to? What are you going to do then, Garrett? Fly over to the palace alone in a rage and get yourself killed? Be smart about this.”

Garrett got into Brady’s face, keeping his hands down at his sides so he wouldn’t punch him. Brady was his friend, his teammate, and one of the few people in the world he would trust his life with. But right then, he was crossing the line.

“What do you think is going to happen if you listen to that recording first and find out one of those things is true? You still have to tell me. I still have to know. Do you think the fact that you breaking the news to me is going to make it better? Make it easier? Do you think that if I don’t hear her voice, hear what she’s going through, that I’m not going to imagine something a thousand times worse happening to her in my head? I’m already in a rage, Brady. I already want to kill every f*cking piece of shit that has come anywhere near her. Regardless of whether or not I hear it for myself, or you tell me, my life means nothing if she’s gone. So get the f*ck out of my way.”