Page 79 of Fixed Asset

“Fallon’s right, that was a shit thing to say,” Mase admitted.

“It was. But just so we’re clear, the loyalty you brought into question was for Mia. And to be clear on one more point, my loyalty doesn’t extend only to one person or team, nor does it end. When you have it, you got it for life. Just because I no longer work with those men, they are still my brothers, and I will never not have their backs. But make no mistake, this team has my full commitment and loyalty too.”

“You’re heard,” Mase said.

Good.

Time to move on.

“I love my sister,” Pete unnecessarily clarified.

“Never thought you didn’t. Which again begs the question why you wouldn’t want more eyes on her.”

“Because for as long as I can remember it’s been me taking care of my sister. Me making sure she’s safe. Me protecting her.” Pete stopped, glanced at Mason, then continued. “Me and Mase. I know Cole loves her, I know he’d give his life to protect her, but that doesn’t mean she’s still not mine. I’ve never had to answer to anyone about how I provided for my sister. Further from that, Cole is my friend too. They spent a long time apart, and I didn’t want anything fucking up them getting back together.

“But you’re right. With Carlos in play, they need to know. I’m being a stubborn asshole about this. I don’t want my sister worried when, after twenty years of living in misery, she’s finally happy.” Pete paused again to suck in a deep breath. “I screwed up. You all have my apologies. Before we get back to it, I have to call my sister. Then I need to talk to my brother-in-law and endure a well-deserved ass chewing. If anyone has something to say, now’s the time to say it.”

No one said anything, yet the room remained stifling.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The guys had left me with Shep’s intel in favor of maps.

Ryan and Aiden were planning the route we’d take to get to Juárez. Mason, Pete, and Jack were leaning over a large map of Juárez while at the same time using a tablet to enlarge areas of interest.

Fallon, Gavin, and Beck had been working with Pete and the guys, pinpointing possible places Carlos could be holding Calista, but they’d gone out when a box truck pulled up. Pete had been expecting the delivery—Tom’s ammo had arrived.

That left me to go over a very detailed report on Carlos Quintero and his operation, as well as his cousin Rafael. Between my stomach churning in disgust and my temper flaring with every sentence I read, I was having trouble seeing the bigger picture.

Jack had told us he’d spoken to Lincoln Parker, and he relayed Linc’s thoughts on Tom, his reasoning for conning me and cornering Pete and his guys, not to mention Berta. I could have bought Tom’s reasoning if the Honduran president’s wife and kids had not been among the women and children smuggled out.

I could see Tom wanting to know the whereabouts of this woman in case he needed to use her location in the future. Information was power. The whereabouts of a runaway wife could buy Tom the upper hand should he need to control the president. I didn’t like it; the thought of using humans like disposable pieces on a game board made me sick, but that was the way of the world. Especially in the CIA.

There wasn’t much information on the men Calista had supposedly killed—I was reserving judgment until I met her. It was easy to set someone up. There was even less information about Calista herself and her family. Specifically her father, the man who Tom said had saved his life. How did a man who owned three dry cleaners save a CIA officer’s life? Unless that man was using his businesses to clean more than clothes. Unless that was a cover for something else.

“Shepherd Drexel is supposed to be the best, right?” I asked the room.

“Can’t say I’ve worked with every hacker out there,” Pete said. “But he’s the best I’ve personally worked with.”

“Then why is my intel light on Calista and the assholes she supposedly killed?”

“What makes you think they’re assholes?” Aiden inquired.

“Typically, women don’t kill men for no reason. They’re emotionally driven to kill.”

“Puts a whole new spin on turning feelings into felonies,” Ryan muttered.

“You need a coffee mug with that on it,” I told him. “Instead of ‘fuck your feelings,’ you need one that says ‘don’t make me turn my feelings into felonies.’”

I heard some chuckles but didn’t look up to see who I’d amused.

“Where the hell did you find this chick?” Ryan went on.

I felt my shoulders stiffen.

“What?” Jack’s grunt was a warning.

“Where’d you find this chick?” Ryan repeated. “I need the coordinates, ASAP, so I can see if there are more of her there.”