Agent Carter Dottie Underwood Novels & Stories

and her face shows a positive appearance. She took a seat opposite Athena, reading the file, "I'm Detective Carter. You're as beautiful as they described you. You have quite an interesting story, growing up in an orphanage, marrying into one of the wealthiest families in New York, and then surviving a car accident that left you in a coma for five months. Living as the only daughter of one of the Richest in the country. They address you as Ms. Weltons, even though you're still legally as Mrs. Chrushvan. And now, you're the prime suspect in the planned assassination of Mr. and Mrs. Chrushvan as well as Ms. Koshiba. Is this some sort of revenge plot?

Wish burned: If I could help them all. She walked out hospital doors into the cooling evening, scrubs rumpled, bag slung heavy. A black SUV idled curbside—a familiar gleam under streetlamps. The driver emerged quickly—a middle-aged man, 45-ish, with salt-and-pepper hair cropped neat, a broad frame in a crisp black uniform, and a face kindly lined from years on the road. The door swung open deferentially. "Mrs. Carter. Ready?" Charlotte paused, a polite smile masking weariness. "Thank you, but he doesn't have to send this every time. I can go alone—bus, cab, whatever. And please, don't treat me like the other Carters. I'm not one of them."

The ranch was good for them. “Did you know who Carter is?” Mia asked as everyone buckled up. “Yeah, he's Carter Williamson, the guy who owns W Motors and makes those awesome cars,” Alexander replied. “I didn't know it was his house when we went there, but it makes sense.” Mia just stared at him for a moment. Alexander was completely fine that Carter owned one of the largest car companies in the US and that they were earning back a broken window from him. “He asked us not to say anything,” Lily said from the front seat. “He's trying to keep a low profile, so we're just to tell people Grayson got caught by security, and we're working for Laura. No one even cared, to be honest.”

Carter. *************************************************

I ended the call and dialed another number, tapping my fingers on the leather seat as I waited. “Carter,” came the crisp reply on the other end. Carter was a detective I’d worked with discreetly over the year. “Detective Carter. I need a favor,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I have a car I need intercepted, heading through your precinct right now. I have reason to believe the driver may be up to something... unlawful.” “Dorian, this sounds like a hell of a request. You got a plate number?” “Six-Two-Kilo-Delta-Zero-Three. Black sedan. It’s moving fast, and I want it pulled over and detained for questioning.”

I gasped and hit his shoulder, making him laugh out loud before guiding me toward his black truck. “What kind of truck is this anyway? It looks so old.” Carter stopped in his tracks and stared at me in shock. “You did not just call my 1974 Ford 100- old. This is my baby.” He gently patted the hood. “She’s got a twin suspension, she’s durable as hell, she looks beautiful, and her engine has been taken care of. She’s not old, she’s a classic.” He scoffed, patting the hood as if it were a dog that just got scolded and needed comforting.

*** Amy woke up and immediately reached for her phone, hoping for an update from the detective. Her heart skipped a beat—there was a message. She opened it. The video was clearer this time. The car’s plate number was visible. Her phone buzzed again—it was Harris calling. She answered immediately. “Amy! We’ve confirmed it,” Harris said, his voice urgent. “The car belongs to Danielle Clevers. Danielle Clevers is the one who ran down Charlotte Warper!” Amy’s hands trembled as she held the phone. “I… I can’t believe it…”

I get nods in return. Jensen climbs in my passenger seat while I get in the driver's seat. JT and Carter get into Carter's orange 1970 Ford Torino Cobra. Sawyer, we will win you back. After all, you are the Bonnie to my Clyde. You belong with us for the rest of our lives. I just hope our obsession with her won't get her killed.

Carter asked coldly, "They got in the car, right?!" "Yes, madam, then do we need to begin?" "Ho, ho, let's begin!" Mrs. Carter burst out smiling and quite proudly said, "Just now, they behaved in front of me like those with devoted love, didn't they? Then I can't even wait to see if they can continue to sustain their love!" Her subordinate immediately left with her order. "Yes, madam!" At this moment, the black Rolls-Royce Phantom had pulled out of the Carter mansion, and was slowly moving on the road.

Aubrey whispered politely, shutting the door behind her. “Miss Jones, I need to ask you a few questions.” Confidence exhumed from him, filling the room with it. It was intimidating to be around and usually, Cara would feel overwhelmed by the company. Since the events from the previous weekend, Cara’s outlook on life had changed dramatically, more importantly, her need to be protective over what was sacred to her. She clutched her bump, gently tracing circles with her thumb and watched as Agent Carter pulled some photos from the file he was clutching, sliding them to her over the desk. She picked them up one by one, scarred and marked faces stared back at her but none that she recognised. “Do