Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
“Okay, so we have…” Crew glanced at the whiteboard. “A fuck-ton to do. Boss, you said someone’s gotta find Vincente.”
“That would be me,” I replied. “If I can convince him Carillo’s planning something, we’ll have both a funder and support.”
“Plus, you parted on good terms last time,” Ortega said.
I nodded.
Crew jotted down a new list on the board, putting my task first. “River and Reese, you were gonna stay in town and look for others who might confirm Delgado’s involvement.”
Reese inclined his head.
“Bring Crew with you,” I suggested. “If we get confirmation, we can send him to Europe while you and River follow up on new leads. There will be countless storage units and warehouses to look through, not to mention people to interrogate.”
The twins were funny when it came to interrogation. Reese lost his temper if he was on his own, and River wasn’t much of a talker, but together? Together, they were brilliant.
“Man, I hope we don’t have to go anywhere near Europe,” Crew bitched. “The fuck would I even start? It’s a big haystack for one needle.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there,” I said. “Darius and Gray—they’ll assist us in the background. We know their status. They’re not doing anything high-risk anymore.” With three kids at home, one at summer camp and two jumping between grandparents, it went without saying our buddies had to make it back in one piece.
“Speaking of Quinns, we have Ryan on standby,” Reese said. “Darius filled him in, so if we need a marksman…”
I automatically looked to Joel.
Time to include that fucker.
“We might need Ryan anyway, but we have Joel too,” I answered. “He’s a sniper with the Coast Guard.”
Reese lifted his brows. “Damn. So you shoot up boat engines from a helicopter all day long.”
“On a good day.” Joel cleared his throat and folded his arms over his chest. “More and more these days, they use narco-subs to smuggle their merchandise.”
“Jesus,” Reese muttered. “We’re never gonna win that war.”
Hell no.
“We still have battles to win,” Crew said firmly. “Joel, what’s your mind-set like? You good to do high-risk or should we—”
“I’m going with Elliott,” Joel stated.
“Uh, you are?” I frowned.
He stared at me. “I dare you to pull some shit now.”
Fuck you.
I bit my tongue. It wasn’t the time or the place, but my fucking God, if he messed with my focus or slowed me down in any way, I’d leave his sorry ass in Mexico.
I refused to admit that he was the logical choice. We had all the paperwork in order to go.
“I’m sensing tension.” Crew threw that out there.
“Yeah…” Reese knitted his brows together. “Lemme get this straight, you’re Elliott’s niece’s dad, right?”
Stepdad.
“Yes. I was married to his sister,” Joel confirmed.
I felt my jaw tick. Sham of a goddamn marriage.
“Ah. In-laws,” Reese said, as if that was the answer. He wasn’t the first to assume the issue between Joel and me was based on two brothers-in-law not getting along. Even Piper thought it was some chauvinistic bullshit about territory. “As long as y’all can work together, I don’t care if you wanna kill each other when this is over. We gotta run a tight op—no fucking screw-ups.”
I heard him. Loud and clear.
“Maybe Joel wants to go to Europe instead?” Crew hedged. “He has his passport already.”
Punk. No, Crew was going. The rest of us didn’t wanna be halfway around the world if we found out where our loved ones were.
Joel shook his head. “Sorry, kid.”
Crew sighed with defeat and wrote his name on the board next to “potentionally going to fucking Europe.”
I didn’t correct his spelling, despite the numerous times he’d asked me to let him know if he’d made a typo. That was something we could do back at the office, where he didn’t want his dyslexia to show. He always asked Madison or me to proof his reports.
“Okay—Elliott and Joel, you’re gonna try to find Vincente,” he said. “River and Reese, you’ll be hunting down local gang members, and I’m going with you. Ortega, you will make calls and cash in favors to find more leads—and to hopefully rule out a rat problem. We have the Quinns on standby, with Darius and Gray assisting us in the background. Squeezy is reaching out tomorrow morning, and Ramirez is watching Piper, and he’s taken care of transportation for us. Logistics next?”
“Riv and I will need all the names you can come up with,” Reese added. “We don’t know where to start.”
“I’ll put together a list,” Ortega replied.
“For the record, every high-ranking member is on the other side of the border,” I said.
“Of course they are,” Reese sighed.
“Any thoughts on where Vincente could be?” Crew wondered.
I suppressed my own sigh, not looking forward to that hunt. “Vincente lives by his own DEFCON system and has a property for each level. I only know his official residence—it’s outside Mexicali. We’ll start there and hopefully get in touch with him through whatever staff he leaves behind.”