Hawk glances into the rearview mirror, rain hammering violently onto the windshield as the SUV tears through the flooded streets. “Going to them was fucking reckless.”
The ambassador lets out a strained breath that almost sounds like a laugh, then it twists into pain. “I didn’t go to them.”
Jagger looks back from the passenger seat.
I stare at the ambassador sitting beside me, blood still dripping steadily down his throat and soaking into the collar of his ruined shirt. “If you didn’t go to them,” I say slowly, “where the fuckwereyou going?”
His swollen eye shifts toward me. “The DEA.”
Hawk’s head snaps slightly in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “What?”
Theambassador leans back in the seat, exhausted beyond measure. “I left the note because I knew Mackenzi would find it after I was gone.” He winces when the vehicle hits a pothole. “I was on my way to meet with DEA contacts, off-book. I had enough evidence to start dismantling the cartel operations tied to the embassy.”
Jagger stares at him. “You were turning yourself in?”
“I was trying to clean up the mess I’d made.” The ambassador drags a trembling hand across his mouth, smearing blood further across his skin. “They intercepted my vehicle less than ten minutes from the meeting point.”
The ambassador’s head lolls against the headrest before his gaze falls on me. “Is she okay?”
“She’s terrified,” I answer honestly. “But, yes, she’s okay.”
Pain flickers visibly across his battered face. “I never wanted any of this near her.”
“No,” I huff. “You just spent ten years feeding the people responsible.”
He doesn’t argue. After a weak nod, he stares at his blood-covered hands and mutters, “I can’t go home.”
“What?”
His working eye slowly shifts over to me.
“I still have to make this right.”
The wait is unbearable.
My nerves fire beneath my skin restlessly, impossible to escape, no matter how many times I tell myself Damon knows what he’s doing. Because he does.
Knowing what he’s capable of is mildly terrifying, actually.
Damon, Hawk, and Jagger walked out of this house, looking like men marching into war, calm and focused in a way that only made the danger feel more real. There had been no hesitation in any of them. Armed with plans for violence, and not an ounce of uncertainty among them.
And all I can do is wait.
I pace the living room again, my bare feet silent against the marble floor as Gunnar sits sprawled across one end of the couch, watching me with the exhausted patience of a man dealing with a feral animal.
Every vibration from a phone or crackle of comms static sends adrenaline surging through me hard enough to makemy hands shake all over again. I glance toward the clock for what has to be the hundredth time tonight.
It’s been almost two hours.Two long fucking hours.
I tighten my arms around myself and turn again, pacing across the living room.
Toward the windows.
Pivot.
Back toward the kitchen.
Again.
