Welcome to my Web Page!
I write single title contemporary romance and romantic suspense.
I have been making up stories even before I could write. Of course my mother called them extreme exaggerations from the truth.
Elaine Meece is a member of Romance Writer's of America. She has served as President of River City Romance Writers and is still an active member. She is also a member of Music City Romance Writers.
Congrats to Chelly Peeler! She won my cosmetic basket.
Two other ladies also came as Cruella DeVille. I'm on the far left.
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Two FBI Agents—one promotion.Special Agent Ellen Bennett and Special Agent Garrett Emerson detest one another especially after learning they’re both after the same promotion. He sees her as rigid and difficult. She considers him an arrogant charmer, but his charm is wasted on her. When they go undercover as newlyweds to expose a sex trafficking ring, they have to live under the same roof and make it work. Not only do their careers depend on it, the lives of others do as well.
“Please, don’t kill them!”
Tristen hated seeing a successful, savvy business woman like Cynthia Owens reduced to begging these shitheads for mercy.
“No!” Cynthia screamed. “I’ll pay their ransom!”
“How do you plan on playing me when you’re a hostage too?
“Release me. I promise I’ll send the money back.”
“Sorry, love. I have my orders to kill them. They’re excess baggage. A liability.”
Tristen’s throat tightened. He needed to give them a reason to keep him alive in this tropic hellhole. “You said you need a pilot. I’ll work for you.”
Diaz appeared in thought. “What about your daughter in the states?”
“Her grandparents will raise her. She’ll probably be better off without me.”
Hate radiated from Cynthia’s eyes. “You’re cutting a deal for just yourself?”
“You catch on fast. Sorry, but my plans don’t include you. You’ve been a real bitch since I started working for you,” he said, trying to come across as believable. He had to convince his captors that he didn’t give a damn about her. It was the only way to save them both.
“I hate you, Tristen Conners.” Cynthia spit at him.
“This is my only chance to save myself. You don’t need to worry. Your rich daddy will send whatever money they demand.”
As far as the old man with them, there was nothing Tristen could do to save him.
The two men conversed in Portuguese, obviously about Tristen’s offer. Diaz turned back to him. “I do need a pilot, but my friend asked what’s to keep you from flying away with my plane.”
“Because I’m a man of my word.”
Tristen couldn’t see anyone flying the tattered single engine Cessna. It seemed just short of the junkyard.
Diaz chuckled, then tossed his half-smoked cigar in the dirt and ground it with his foot. “I came up with another solution.”
“The first time you decide to make a run for it, I’ll order a hit on your daughter and her grandparents.”
Tristen nodded. “Deal, but I still expect to be paid a salary. If a time comes when you trust me, I’d like to kidnap my daughter and bring her to Brazil,” he lied.
Diaz grinned and nodded. “We’ll treat her like family. She could even grow up and marry one of my sons.”
Not happening in this life time.
“Where are you taking us?” Cynthia asked.
“To clean you up for the boss. He arrives today.”
“You’re not the boss?” Tristen asked, wondering who the puppet master actually was.
“No, I’m what you call the middle man. Even the deal between us will need his approval.”
“My wife will cash in our life insurance policy,” Mr. Wilkes pleaded.
Diaz laughed. “My source informed me your wife has been screwin’ around on you for years. She wishes you’d die. This is her lucky day.”
Diaz made the order, and his men raised their guns and fired. Bullets penetrated Wilkes’s body. The old man gasped, held his chest, and dropped to the ground.
Cynthia turned to Diaz. “You heartless bastard!”
“He wasn’t needed. You, my dear, are all we need.”
How had Diaz known about Wilkes’s unfaithful wife?
How much does he know about me? About my daughter, Mallory? And who the hell was this boss they spoke of?
“Take them around back and hose them off. We leave for our camp, El Cuarto, soon.”
“Wait,” Tristen insisted. “Cynthia needs his boots if we’re traveling very far.”
“It’s not like he has any use for them. Make it quick,” Diaz said. Though the boots would be slightly big on her, they’d be better than her broken sandals. If a chance for them to escape presented itself, she’d need good shoes for hiking through the rainforest. He didn’t plan to be there when the head honcho arrived.
Tristen removed the old man’s boots and socks. The old man’s feet were still warm.
He offered them to Cynthia.
Still angry, she jerked them from his hands. “You could have saved him, but instead, you made the deal for yourself. I knew you hadn’t changed. You still only think of yourself.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve got big daddy coming after you.”
“Enough. Let’s move out,” Diaz said. “I can see there is no love lost between you two.” He chuckled.
As they walked away, Cynthia glanced back at the dead man, her eyes beaming with tears.
Fear filled Tristen more than remorse. These men wouldn’t hesitate to execute him or Cynthia if things didn’t go as planned.
Making it back to Mallory was his top priority.
If he hadn’t have struck a deal with the devil, he’d be laying sprawled out with a bullet in his head like Mr. Wilkes.
Thank God, Diaz needs a pilot