Lachlan let out a breath of relief. This was the information he’d been hoping for—confirmation that Titus Freeman was dead. Proof that the danger to his daughter was over.
Wesley snatched the bottle from Micah’s fist. “No names. Why’d you think Lachlan would want to hear about that?”
“Because he was the ALF pilot that saved Titus’s daughter when the Jamaicans tried to blow her ass up during her engagement party to Alejandro Cerundolo,” Micah said.
“Is that so?” Wesley asked, scrutinizing Lachlan.
Lachlan forced himself not to react. Anger and sadness warred within him at the cavalier way Micah talked about how he first met Britt. But Micah had no idea how that rescue had led to Britt and him falling in love and having a child. Ike and Sebastian were the only two who knew his whole story. Lachlan regained his composure. “Yeah, I assisted on quite a few PISCO ops back in the day.” He pushed the words out with a weary chuckle. “That was a long time ago.”
Sebastian came to his rescue. “Look, no one will hear anything about Freeman’s death from us,” Sebastian assured them. “Trust me, we know better than anyone what you’re up against.”
Wesley looked convinced as he nodded.
“Sorry,” Micah mumbled. “Anyway, that’s the end of my involvement. As soon as Galloway found out who the victim was,he snatched my ass off the assignment and replaced me with another one of his favorites.”
Wesley said, “Galloway doesn’t give a fuck about Titus dying. But the leader of Quattro was on our Top Five list to take down for far too long. Quattro is weak without Titus at the helm, which increases our chances of squashing that gang once and for all. But white phosphorus in the wrong hands is a big problem for all the major countries. We gotta find out who got it, how they got it, and what else they might plan to do with it.”
Lachlan exchanged a glance with Sebastian. The elder PISCO didn’t have to say anything more. If Lachlan were a betting man, he’d push all his chips to the center of the table that Wesley was the PISCO leading the team to get that answer. And Micah was on the outside looking in.
“The Jamaicans have to be at the top of the list,” Sebastian said. “It’s no secret that they were Quattro’s biggest rival.”
Lachlan had the same thought. The Jamaicans claimed responsibility for the bomb that destroyed the yacht where Britt and Alejandro celebrated their engagement seven years ago. Britt had broken off her engagement to Alejandro after falling in love with Lachlan. He’d been her escape from the daily threat to her life from being the daughter of an alleged cartel leader. Lachlan had hoped that they’d be able to start a new life with their baby under new identities on Dove Island, but Britt’s past had followed them, and he’d lost her for good. His love for her hadn’t been enough to protect her and that haunted him every fucking second since her death. Especially since no one—not Quattro, the island feds, or Stingray Security—had been able to identify who planted the bomb in her car. The Jamaicans never claimed responsibility for her death. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t killed her.
Wesley shrugged, clearly unwilling to give anything away.
“Well, enough shop talk,” Lachlan said, satisfied that he had enough information. Titus would’ve been relentless in searching for his dead daughter’s child if he knew she existed. Now that he was dead, no one would be looking for Paloma.
She was finally safe.
His daughter could have a normal life.
Lachlan glanced up at the popcorn clouds passing across the bright blue sky. Britt had to be in heaven smiling down on them, relieved for the child she wouldn’t get a chance to see grow up.
He grabbed his phone and swiped to the photo app. “Who wants to see pics of my beautiful girl?”
Chapter 7
Lowering the barbell to his chest, Ike strained to complete the last rep, pushing with all the force he could give. The weight was pitiful. A fraction of what he’d been used to lifting before he crashed landed back in St. Felipe three months ago. But he couldn’t be upset with his progress. The cracked ribs healed nicely, freeing him to strengthen his healed broken leg with daily runs through the Cabrito Mountains. The dislocated shoulder was the only lingering weakness, still not back to full strength. He winced with pain as he extended his shaking arms to press the bar upward. Wracking the bar, he leaned forward and listened.
Silence greeted him, and it was the most beautiful sound.
Dr. Rocco Forrester had finally caved and let him dismiss his round-the-clock nurse a couple of weeks ago. Ike had welcomed the solitude. He had the place all to himself to dig deeper into the investigation of his parents’ plane crash. Sorting through the scant information he’d pulled together and, despite his best efforts, hoping for an unexpected visit from Ava. But she never came.
The doorbell rang, jolting him from his thoughts.
Grabbing a towel, he wiped the sweat from his body as he walked from the weight room, down the hall to the front door. He pulled the door open, not bothering to look through the peephole. Only six people knew where he was and that he was still alive.
“Hi, Ike … you look so dreamy.”
Well, six and a half, if you counted Paloma, Lachlan’s little girl.
“Hey, dove, you’re looking beautiful as usual,” Ike said, smiling. Paloma posed several times, showing off her Carebear t-shirt over hot pink leggings.
Ike said, “I’d hug you, but I’m stinky.”
She wrinkled her nose and seemed pleased with his decision.
“Not pushing yourself too hard?” Lachlan asked.
