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Tyler pulled out his phone and typed the address into his GPS. Twenty minutes away.

Hauling Angel to his feet, he placed his face within a millimeter of his. “If you breathe a word about our visit to anyone or tip off your mother or cousins, we’ll be back.”

THEY PARKED DOWN the street from the house, and Tyler scoped out the two-story, a plan forming.

“How long is it going to take for the cops to get here?” Martinez asked.

“About five minutes out.”

“Man, you do realize this is going to fuck us if shit goes south?” Sparks said.

“If you want to back out, I get it. You can wait for the cops, but these people have already had Noah for almost two hours, and if Angel’s right, Camila is getting ready to take him out of the country.” Opening the car door, he hopped out. “I’m going in.”

“I’ve got your six,” Kline said, following him.

Tyler nodded. He still owed Kline a shot to the jaw, but when he’d called for backup, he hadn’t hesitated.

“Shit, I’m coming.” Sparks climbed out of the passenger side and Martinez followed him out of the back.

They shut the doors silently and formed a tight triangle, Tyler taking point.

They rounded the back and went through the unlocked door.

“People really should learn to lock their doors,” Blake joked softly.

The sound of a TV blared from the front of the house, and they came through the living room.

Two men on the couch jumped up, and Tyler held his finger to his lips. They didn’t move a muscle; apparently having three large strangers break into the house was enough to freak them out.

“Where is Noah Hill?” Tyler asked quietly.

The man on the left sniffed at him, obviously thinking they weren’t armed. “Man, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but if you don’t get out of my house, I’m gonna call the cops.”

“Cops will be here in a few minutes anyway. Really hope there’s nothing in here you don’t want them to find,” Tyler said.

The one on the right looked like he was gonna piss his pants.

“But if you want us to let you leave this room so you can flush whatever you’ve got stashed, you’d better tell me where Camila Ramirez and Noah are.”

Scared dude on the right caved pretty quickly. “The kid’s upstairs with his grandmother.”

“Fuck, José, shut your mouth,” the other man said.

“I’m not going to prison for your bitch aunt, ese. I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

“You were right there with me, bro. If I go down, you’re coming with me, mother—”

“Don’t let them leave,” Tyler said to his friends.

The men on the couch protested, but Tyler was already gone. He raced up the stairs and went for the shut door at the end of the hallway. When he tried the knob, it was locked, and he pounded on the door. “Noah!”

“Get out of this house!” Camila screamed from the other side.

Tyler kicked in the door and found himself facing down a trembling Camila pointing a gun right at his chest.

“I will shoot you if you take another step.” Her shrill, irrational voice pierced his ears, and he held his hands up, trying to appear nonthreatening. Tyler saw Noah’s still form on the queen-size bed, a blanket pulled over him. He could see the blanket moving in deep, even breaths. Tyler’s gaze missed nothing as he scoped out the room, spotting the clear medicine bottle half full of red liquid on the nightstand.

“Noah?” he called loudly, but the toddler didn’t stir. The crazy witch must have drugged him. Tyler focused his attention back on Camila, his mouth set in a grim line.