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“You’ve been working months, years, on tracking Esteban, but he’s always one step ahead, playing moves like showing up at your wedding, which take you by surprise. This unsettles you, makes you feel like you’re defenseless, much like your chessboard.”
Brandon pauses, holding me with a pointed look. “The question you should be asking yourself is how do you gain control back?”
* * *
After going with Josephine to her eleventh-week ultrasound appointment, I drop her back off at the construction site, where Tank takes over her protection detail. I give her a tender goodbye kiss and head back to headquarters to get my workout in. I run with Josephine in the mornings, but I need my weights and a bag to punch around for an hour minimum.
Gauge joins me in the gym in the basement of headquarters. As busy as we are, our job requires us to be in elite shape. Skipping exercise to do more grind with the manhunt does us no favors. We spot each other, hold the bag while the other works it over, then we do a round of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, sparring on the mats.
When I’m good and sore, I head back up to the suite to get cleaned for my afternoon meeting with a client in Denver. Gauge escorts me. We take our hogs, knowing it may be one of our last long hauls on the bikes before the weather changes. Snow and motorcycles don’t mix.
Three hours later, we return to headquarters. The appointment was a waste of our time. The man told us he wanted recon, but what he actually wanted was us spying on his wife. We’re not private investigators, nor do we get involved with marital disputes. Told him to find a retired cop if he wanted a PI. We’re not hurting for income and have more pressing matters that need our attention.
I walk into the tech room at headquarters, annoyed I had lost three hours into the manhunt. “Give me some news, Chase.”
“Well, speak of the devil,” Chase says with his cell in his hand. “I was just about to ring you.”
“Does that mean you have something to report?” I ask, controlling the hope in my voice.
“Damn straight, I do. I’ve got a lead from the National Intelligence Directorate of Colombia. Our source said Esteban was spotted in Bogotá leaving the Four Seasons Hotel Casa Medina Bogota less than thirty minutes ago.”
I put my thumb and four-finger between my lips, whistling for the rooms’ attention. “Listen up! Gauge, Chase, Punk, Ziggy, and Brass—you’re with me. Grab your things. We leave at the top of the hour.”
The room bursts into action.
My fingers are dialing her cell as I head upstairs to pack my shit for the mission. She answers on the first ring.
“Hi, Hubby,” she says in her sweet sing-song voice.
“Hey, baby. We got a lead, so I’m about to head out in—” I pause to look at my Casio G-Shock DW-6600 wristwatch “—twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Robotically, I pack my bag with swift efficiency. Years of having to leave at the drop of a hat make packing child’s play.
I’m hustling down the stairs right as Josephine walks into the house. I drop my bag and pull her into my arms. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Be careful,” she murmurs against my chest.
“Always.”
My hand turns her chin up so I can give her one deep kiss before pulling away, picking up my duffel, and heading out the door with my team on my heels.
“Charter flight is waiting for us at Northern Colorado Regional Airport,” Ziggy informs me, his eyes never leaving his tablet.
“Good,” I say as we load up the van, climbing in to get our asses on the road.
In less than twelve hours, we’ll have our boots on the ground. Now, the real hunt begins.
