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“By yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“No. You need to stay with the client. If we were going to send you after him, we’d have someone watching your back.”
One-Mile scoffed. “You sent me in with Trees last time. Look how well that worked out.”
“Without a heads-up from him, we wouldn’t have known you’d been captured for days.”
“But how do you know he wasn’t the one who set me up? I won’t say his escape was convenient but…”
Hunter didn’t have a comeback for that, which told One-Mile that possibility had crossed his mind.
“Let me try,” he pressed again.
“It’s too risky.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Risk is what we do. Once Montilla figures out that Valeria and his son are gone, he might slink back over the border and it will be a shitload harder to reach him. She will never be safe until that fucker is dead or behind bars. We can make that happen. I can take care of him. Just give me a green light.”
“No. You want revenge, and that’s not your mission. I won’t have you going off on some crusade. You’ll get your ass killed. You’ve barely been cleared to be back at work, and—”
“This is bullshit,” One-Mile growled. “Why leave this son of a bitch on the loose?”
“Because it’s the feds’ responsibility to hunt Montilla and kill him like the animal he is—not yours. And because I said to stay there another few days to make sure Valeria is settled and safe. We were hired to transition her, period.”
“I’ve done that.”
“So finish the fucking job before you haul off on your own agenda.”
One-Mile didn’t like his pile-of-shit reasoning or his attitude.
“When can I come home? I have more doctors’ appointments,” he lied.
“Sunday.”
That gave him four days to catch Montilla. If he succeeded, he’d be taking one more scumbag off his cartel throne and keeping Valeria’s family safe. If he died…well, no one at EM Security Management would care.
But he hated leaving Brea behind.
He’d compartmentalized his concerns, but pacing his ten-by-ten cookie-cutter cage with nothing to do… It was hard not to wonder what was running through her head. Was she upset? Shocked? Or just swamped?
“Before you hang up, I got a question. Is Bryant in town?” And doing his best to smooth-talk Brea away from him?
“Cutter is still in Dallas. I expect him home Friday. This morning, he got a goddamn concussion. Someone whacked him in the back of the head while he was peeing.”
It was so ridiculous, One-Mile would have laughed except he knew it would annoy Hunter. The good news was, Cutter horning in on his woman wasn’t the reason for her distance. “Thanks. I’ll be home Sunday.”
“Call me if you spot Montilla anywhere in Orlando.”
“Sure.” But One-Mile’s gut said the drug lord was still sniffing around St. Louis, trying to pick up his wife’s scent. He wasn’t letting that fucker go.
Hunter hung up. And One-Mile went back to pacing. How could he draw Montilla out? How could he get a jump on the sadistic asshole and stop his reign of violence? If One-Mile could get word to the drug lord about Valeria’s former safe house, he would be waiting… But they weren’t exactly pals, and he didn’t know who Montilla might be connected to in St. Louis.
But they apparently had a mutual contact inside EM Security Management. Why not kill two motherfuckers with one missile?
Question was, who on his own team should he take aim at? He was only going to get one shot at this…
As much as One-Mile loathed the fucking Boy Scout, Cutter was too forthright and upstanding for this turncoat shit. That left Josiah, Zy, and Trees. Gut feeling? This wasn’t Josiah’s speed. He kept his nose clean and kept to himself. Zy seemed too busy chasing their receptionist’s skirt to pay attention to much else. Not that it had done him much good. Sure, Tessa stared at him like she might be interested in more than a friendly handshake, but they’d likely respected EM’s zero-tolerance policy with regard to fraternization—at least so far.
One-Mile’s money was on Trees. But he needed a test…and after a few minutes of scheming, he came up with a plan.
He dashed off an email asking Tessa to pass an attachment with the exact address and schematic of the St. Louis safe house to Trees. As a professional courtesy, of course, since they’d gone to Acapulco together. Naturally, he left out the part about it being abandoned. He’d also included a note that he’d debrief everyone else when he got back into town.
Like hell.
The communication would look more official going through the office, so Trees was more likely to take it at face value. Their efficient little receptionist would do as requested without asking questions. And Hunter wouldn’t find out until later…if he found out at all.
This was a win-win. If Montilla turned up at Valeria’s former address in the next few days, then he’d have a fucker to mete justice to and a two-timing rat to expose.
