Her Sweetest Mistake (Amelia) novel Chapter 91

Daniel sat in George’s living room, his head in his hands, his eyes sunken in their shadows. The realization of his mistake had made him go silent as he now knew of the danger Cheryl was in because of him. George sat across from him, arms crossed, his face a mask of barely restrained fury.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier, Daniel?” George’s voice was low but sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. “Two million dollars? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Daniel exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. “I thought I could handle it. I just needed more time. But time ran out.”

George let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Time ran out? That’s all you have to say? My daughter was beaten, Cheryl is God knows where, and you tell me you just needed more time?”

Daniel flinched at the words, guilt flashing in his eyes, but before he could respond, George’s temper finally snapped. With a sudden burst of rage, he grabbed the laptop sitting on the coffee table and hurled it against the wall. The screen shattered, a crackling sound filling the room as broken pieces fell to the floor.

“More time!?”

The noise startled Daniel, but it was the sharp intake of breath from the staircase that made George freeze. He turned and saw Vanessa standing there, wide–eyed, her hands gripping the railing. Fear flickered in her gaze, quickly masked by worry.

“Dad…” her voice was hesitant, laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

George took a deep breath, forcing himself to rein in his emotions. He ran a hand down his face and stepped toward her, his expression softening. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I just–I’m under a lot of pressure. But we’re doing everything we can to get Cheryl back.”

She swallowed hard and nodded, her gaze flickering between her father and Daniel. “You promise?”

“I promise,” George said firmly. “Now, go back upstairs and rest. I’ll take care of this.”

Vanessa hesitated but eventually turned and went back up, her steps slow. George turned back to Daniel, his jaw tightening again.

Before he could say another word, his phone vibrated on the table. Seeing Travis’s name flash on the screen, he answered immediately. “Tell me you have something.”

“Got their new base,” Travis’s voice came through, steady and confident. “It’s a warehouse on the outskirts of town and it’s one of the places I’ve done undercover in as a junkie. We don’t have much time. I’m going in undercover, posing as your contact to get us inside. You’re coming with me, but we have to play this smart.”

George’s grip tightened on the phone. “Understood. When do we move?”

“Tonight. I’ll send you the coordinates. Be ready.”

As George ended the call, Daniel leaned forward. “I’m coming with you.”

George’s eyes hardened. “No, you’re not. You’ll only complicate things.”

“That’s my daughter-

11

“And this is my plan!” George snapped. “If you go in there panicked, desperate, you’ll get us all killed. Let me handle this.”

Daniel opened his mouth to argue, but the look in George’s eyes silenced him. There was no room for negotiation.

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George grabbed his keys and his gun, his mind already shifting to what lay ahead. The time for talking was over. it was time to bring Cheryl home.

George drove through the dimly lit road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. His jaw was clenched, and his heartbeat was anything but steady. This had to work. It was the only way.

As he pulled into the designated meeting point, Travis was already waiting by the side of an old, beat–up car, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. He was lean, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that always seemed to be scanning his surroundings. His dark hair was cut short, and a jagged scar ran down his right eyebrow, adding to his hardened look. He was smarter than he looked, reliable too. And most importantly, he knew the Snakesmen inside out.

“You’re late,” Travis muttered as George stepped out of the car. “That’s unlike you.”

“I had a lot on my mind,” George replied. “Let’s get this over with.”

Travis nodded and unfolded a rough sketch of the Snakesmen’s hideout on the hood of his car. “Alright, listen up. This place is one of their weakest links. It’s tucked away in the middle of nowhere, so they don’t expect much trouble. Security is light compared to their main bases, maybe fifteen guys in total. But don’t get cocky, some of these bastards have nothing to lose.”

George studied the sketch, his mind already racing through possible plans. “Where do you think they’re keeping Cheryl?”

“If I were them, I’d keep the hostage in one of these rooms here,” Travis said, pointing to a section at the back of the building. “Less foot traffic. They’ll have someone guarding the door, but the real problem is finding out who has the key.”

George exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. “Let’s get inside first. We’ll figure the rest out.”

Travis eyed him up and down before shaking his head. “Yeah, no. You look too tense, too put together. You walk in there like this, and they’ll smell something’s off.” He reached out and tousled George’s hair, making it look less combed and more rugged. Then, he flicked George’s collar up and gestured for him to roll up his sleeves. “There. Now you don’t look like a detective or a pissed–off billionaire. You look like a man who wants in.”

George huffed but did as he was told. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They approached the building casually, blending into the shadows. The entrance was guarded by two men, both smoking lazily, their rifles slung over their shoulders. Travis led the conversation, introducing George as an interested client looking for “business opportunities.” The men sized him up but, seeing no immediate threat, let

them in.

Inside, the place smelled of cheap alcohol and sweat. The dim yellow lighting made everything feel grittier. Several men were lounging around, laughing over a card game, while others were sharpening knives or loading guns. George kept his expression neutral, his sharp gaze noting every possible escape route.

As Travis distracted a few of the men with small talk, George subtly scanned the area. There were three closed doors at the back. His gut told him Cheryl was behind one of them. He watched closely until he spotted a burly man with a ring of keys hooked to his belt. That was his target.

He nudged Travis subtly. “The guy with the keys,” he muttered under his breath.