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Besides, it wasn’t like that. Not really. I had my own… person. Adam was my boyfriend. And online boyfriends were so a thing, no matter what Hux thought.
Hux focused his attention on his computer while Champ and the rest of his crew sitting resumed a discussion they’d clearly already been having about how to best protect their client.
Carter appeared eventually, kissing Riggs on the cheek and getting himself coffee.
“Nice to know you’re still alive,” Carter said pointedly, sliding a bowl of apple slices in front of me.
I winced. “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t get your texts. I haven’t checked my phone or my Horn since…” I paused to consider. “Shit, yesterday afternoon?”
Carter’s eyebrows went up. “That’s… unusual.”
I nodded. It was unprecedented, really. And now that I’d realized it, I began to feel a little twitchy about the fact that I’d left all my devices down in my lair. But I also didn’t want to miss a moment of what was happening up here, so I forced myself to calm down.
I nibbled on my apple slices while Carter said his goodbyes and left for work, then got up to find something more substantial in the pantry.
I returned to the table with a plate of cheese and crackers just in time.
Hux muttered, “Fuck me,” before pushing his keyboard away and glancing up at his boss with a mixture of triumph and trepidation on his face. “Champ, this Dixon guy served in the army with Hiram Oliver, who’s the current head of the Inspection Division of the DEA.”
Champ’s lips tightened as he inhaled. “Meaning, we don’t know who we can trust there.”
Jordan’s eyes darted around the table. “What if we approach the wrong person about their rogue agent?”
Riggs nodded and tapped his finger on the table before saying what everyone was thinking. “We need to proceed with caution. Find a contact we can trust. Surely we know someone who—”
Elvo sighed heavily. “No. What we need to do is find the Horns ourselves.”
Champ’s and Riggs’s eyes widened, but Elvo held up a hand before anyone else could speak. “I know. I know. I was the one who wanted to turn this over to the DEA from the start. We don’t have their resources or their authority. This should be their mess to clean up. I still believe all of that. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about Jacob Horn and keeping HOG’s name clean. Not anymore.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, boss, but it’s the truth. I know they’re our client, but they’re in this up to their eyeballs, profiting off the cartel’s financial transactions. They had to know the game had this potential, and they haven’t bothered to stop it yet. So I was not about to go to jail just to protect a bunch of cartel-enabling one-percenters, you feel me? This face is too pretty for prison.” He tapped his own cheek, and Jordan snorted.
Hearing it laid out like that was sobering, and from the looks Hux, Riggs, and Champ were exchanging, they felt the same.
“But I’m also fucking tired of constantly reacting to shit. Of waiting for them to make a move so we can counter it. Of not knowing who we can trust and feeling like we’re one step behind at all times.” Elvo set his jaw. “Nah, man, I want this shit to end so that we can move on with our lives, and the best way to do that is for us to conduct this investigation ourselves. We need to gather all the evidence, wrap it in a bow, and present it to the DEA, the DHS, the DOJ… hell, the CDC if they wanna sit in… in a way they can’t ignore or hush up. We can still protect our client, probably—the details of this case don’t have to be public, and the alphabet agencies would lose all kinds of credibility if we told the media that not one but two DEA agents were conspiring with Cartel de la Luna—but better still, we can make sure that these assholes can’t come after us. Never do an enemy a small injury, right?” He leaned forward in his seat. “So we take them down.”
Champ’s eyes closed for a beat. “That’s… inspiring, Elvo. And I’m not saying I disagree with you. But you’re talking about us—our small team—finding twelve Horns. Twelve. Each one held by a known cartel associate. And we don’t have warrants. We can’t legally obtain those Horns in a way that’ll be admissible in court—”
“We don’t need to,” Elvo argued. “The Horns aren’t the buried treasure; the drugs and the financial transactions are. The Horns are the treasure map that will tell law enforcement where to look for them.”
Champ seemed unconvinced, but Riggs nodded, and a slow smile spread across his face. “I like it.”
Champ shot him a disapproving look. “Settle down, cowboy. These fuckers are spread all over the world. How do you propose—?”
