Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
I couldn’t imagine sitting around doing fuck-all for three or four days. And it would be pointless for them to fly all the way here, only to return right away. Flying between Spain and California took two days, easy.
After a minute or two, River handed back my phone. “He’s a Finlay. Either he feels Mercier needs more backup, or he fucked himself over and got emotionally attached.”
Or a combination of both.
My phone buzzed with a regular text message before I could pocket it, so I looked at the screen and—finally. It was Emerson.
Don’t give me shit, kid. You and your brother should’ve reached out the moment Shay was taken. Instead, we had to hear about it on the bloody news. If you want more details, you can meet up with us. Danny and I will be in the area a few more days.
At forty-five, I was still “kid” to that old bastard. No wonder Shay liked him.
“Ryan might wanna send Cullen to Colombia,” River said pensively, referring to Crew’s old man.
“Huh?”
“And not alone,” he went on. That put me on edge, because River was on edge too. “If Mercier’s been undercover for years, the goal was probably never to nail Carillo. He’s aiming for the top. I think he’s in Colombia to assassinate the big boss. What was his name? Luca Blanco?”
I frowned, more lost than ever. Now, I wasn’t one of those naïve schmucks who thought our country didn’t pull stunts outside their jurisdiction—for fuck’s sake, I’d made a living out of that. But if Mercier and Crew were alone or had very little backup with them, then this was more than a rescue operation.
“Why would Crew risk his life for…” I trailed off and sighed heavily with a skyward glance.
Crew, you little shit.
“Emotional attachment,” River finished.
Yeah.
“In other news, Em hasn’t lost his touch.” I showed him Emerson’s message.
He gestured at the phone. “We might need them.”
I nodded. Especially if the chase for Shay, Blake, and Marisa was down to River and me, now that the rest of our team was stuck in Spain doing nothing. And Ramirez had been ticked off about waiting twenty-four hours for that update from Crew—now they had to wait even longer.
“I’ll give them a call later,” I said. “I gotta check in with Melanie too.” We hadn’t been able to see her when she’d come out for her meeting with the police, but we stayed in touch through a throwaway cell we’d sent her. All she asked for was a daily message.
“Hey!” we heard Luiz call out, his voice raspy. “Can we bargain?”
River and I exchanged a look before we headed back inside the barn.
It would be really fuckin’ nice if we could put this guy behind us as soon as possible. We had others we needed to track down too. In fact, there was a Luiz number two as well. He was this Luiz’s godfather, and he’d traveled a similar path. Roots in both Brazil and Mexico, several prison sentences, considered one of Carillo’s closest associates, and he’d dropped off the face of the earth.
I folded my arms over my chest. “Start talkin’.”
Luiz glanced between River and me, clearly in pain. His lips were chapped too, his skin oily and sweaty. “If I give you my uncle, will you let me go?”
River and I side-eyed each other.
Jorge was another man who’d disappeared. He and Luiz the elder had worked for Carillo the longest.
“Why’s that trade better for us?” I asked.
“Because he has your little brother,” Luiz confessed.
I clenched my jaw to make sure I didn’t let a single trace of the onslaught of emotions spill out. Holy fuck, if you’re lying, you piece of shit, I will cut off your—
“You’re loyal to Carillo Mesa,” River stated, his stance tense. “Never mind that you’re selling out your own flesh and blood, but you’re giving up one of Carillo’s top players at a time when he doesn’t have many to rely on.”
“He’s a fucking coward,” Luiz spat out. “My uncle has been against Carillo’s move since day one, but he kept his mouth shut. He just left for Mexico two days ago, and I don’t think he plans on coming back.”
I stiffened. “He took Shay across the border too?”
Luiz inclined his head. “I have the addresses to both safehouses my uncle owns outside Tijuana.”
“If you consider your uncle a traitor, why wait to give him up till now?” River pressed.
“Because my boss is enjoying this little game of having Frank Rivera run around to kill Vincente,” he said, ticked off. Frank Rivera was the name of Elliott’s persona, the identity he’d used when taking down Carillo last year. It struck me as odd that only the closest circle of Carillo’s associates knew Elliott’s real name, considering almost twenty of their low-men had shown up at his house.