My hand tightens around the phone hard enough that the casing creaks. “What do you want?”
The cartel leader’s eyes shift lazily toward me. “Simple.” He steps closer to the ambassador, casually gripping his jaw hard enough to make the man groan. “I have a shipment your ambassador friend was supposed to move quietly into the United States.”
Fuck.
“If you do not want him returned in pieces,” the man continues calmly, “I will need that shipment delivered safely into Miami within the next two days.”
“You’re asking the wrong people,” I retort, keeping my voice level as the color drains from Mackenzi’s face.
“No.” The man smiles slyly. “I do not think I am.”
Then the camera pans toward the ambassador. Blood drips steadily from his mouth as he struggles weakly against the restraints. The cartel leader pats his cheek mockingly. “Say goodbye, Mackenzi.”
The call ends, and Mackenzi stares at the dark screen, holding her breath. Sucking in a sputtered breath, she grabs my arm hard enough to hurt. “You have to help him.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
I wrap one arm tightly around her waist as my mind races at a violent speed.Fuck! She’s right.The ambassador may have made monumental mistakes, but he’s still her father. I know exactly what losing him would do to her. The guys shift into motion around us, but I pause to rest my chin briefly on the top of her head. “We’re going to get him back,” I promise her quietly.
Her fingertips flex against my chest. “He’s hurt.”
“He is. Badly.” Her face tightens, but I can’t bring myself to lie to her. “But he’s alive,” I add.
Which means they still have leverage.
Mackenzi paces the house endlessly while we work. Every time she passes the doorway, I can feel her anxiety from across the room.
By the time the sun disappears completely beyond the perimeter walls, the command center feels less like an office and more like a war zone held together by caffeine and determination.
Nearly every screen glows with maps, security footage, shipping routes, and satellite overlays while Mattis works via video conference, looking disturbingly relaxed, considering he spent the entire day doing something that should probably qualify as black magic.
He is fucking terrifying with a computer. I-know-who-shot-JFK and where-Jimmy-Hoffa-is-buried-level terrifying.
Mattis taps a few more times. “There.”
I step closer to the monitor. The screen fills with the screenshot I snapped from the cartel’s video call—anondescript concrete basement, exposed pipes overhead, industrial lighting, and old water stains along the walls.
Mattis enlarges the image further, then overlays another window beside it of a blueprint. “You were right about the basement,” he states. “The exposed utility routing matches older industrial conversions built in the late eighties. Cross-referencing pipe configuration, ceiling height, municipal renovation permits, and CCTV pulls from surrounding districts has narrowed it down to four properties.”
Fucking terrifying.
Hawk whistles. “Jesus Christ.”
On screen, Mattis shrugs slightly.
“Then I ran facial recognition on the cartel guard visible in the reflection of the video.” He taps another key. “Traffic cameras picked him up entering this building six hours ago.”
The screen zooms in on an aging warehouse near the industrial docks. It’s a concrete structure with minimal windows and a fenced perimeter. It looks like exactly the kind of place where people disappear.
Jagger rises from his seat. “That’s our spot.”
Mattis nods once. “Heat signatures show approximately fourteen occupants inside. Five on the upper floors. Most of them concentrated below ground level.”
Meaning the ambassador is almost certainly still alive.For now.
Hawk grabs his rifle from the table. “Let’s go ruin somebody’snight.”
We work diligently to load weapons and check comms. As I pull my tactical vest over my head, I mentally rerun through entry accesses, fallback routes, and choke points. After I’ve tightened the buckle running along my ribs, I look up to see Mackenzi in the doorway, watching me.
Her eyes are raking over me, filled with fear. “I’m scared,” she musters. “This seems dangerous.”
