Taz’s phone rang. “What?”
What?”“Hold please.” A female operator dropped her into hold-music hell before she could finish saying, “You’re the one who called me…” b***h!
Bitch!Worse, it was her former general’s favorite piece of music, "Bésame Mucho". His wife’s favorite love song—until some druggies needing their next fix had burned her down for her ATM cash. General Martinez had listened to it as if he had enjoyed driving the dagger of memory into his own chest. Maybe he had. His wife’s death had eventually killed him and everyone near him—except herself.
enjoyedWas she doing the same goddamn thing to herself, embracing the pain? Someone please tell her she wasn’t being that stupid.
Her palm was already sweaty on the slippery phone case because of the call with Miranda, or the attempt
