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O’Malley was a former FBI agent and had opened the pub after a bullet shattered his knee and he’d been taken out of the field. He always said he’d rather serve whiskey than start drinking it because he was bored out of his mind sitting behind a desk. Brant couldn’t say he blamed him.
“The usual. And put it on Declan’s tab,” Brant said, causing O’Malley to laugh.
“I’ll have Lily bring it to you. Your friends are upstairs.” O’Malley jerked his thumb at the curved staircase that led up to the private room he sometimes rented out for parties or wakes, and Brant nodded his thanks and moved toward the back of the bar. He acknowledged a few of the familiar faces he passed on his way, and headed up the stairs.
“It’s about damned time, Scott,” Shane MacKenzie said, his concentration never wavering from the game of darts he was playing. “Devlin here already owes me fifty bucks. Can’t play darts for shit.”
Max Devlin was leading the DEA team assigned to the recent tourist murders that had been happening throughout Mexico as the cartels battled over their turf and with the Mexican government’s crackdown on drug trafficking. He’d been Cade’s boss once upon a time, and since Devlin was a former Marine sniper, Brant very seriously doubted it was him that couldn’t play darts for shit. Devlin punched Shane in the arm and called him an inappropriate name and then quickly made a bullseye on his next turn.
Brant stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it across an empty chair, laying his helmet in the seat. The noise from below was muted and the bass from the music vibrated the floor, but the room was private for all intents and purposes.
Declan MacKenzie sat in one of the wooden whiskey barrel chairs, his posture relaxed and his eyes hooded halfway in sleep. Brant knew as well as any of the others in the room that Declan was never fully relaxed, and he could be up with a weapon in his hand before most people could blink.
He’d been crossing paths with Declan for years during different assignments, and he’d sat across from him at the dinner table for MacKenzie family dinners more times than he could count, but he still didn’t know exactly what branch of the government Dec worked for. By the way he seemed to know every damned thing almost as soon as it happened, Brant was guessing CIA. The one thing hedidknow was that Declan was in charge of this op, whatever it was, and he was calling the shots.
Lily knocked on the door and came in with a tray filled with drinks. Dark haired and dark eyed, she gave Shane a smile that would have any red-blooded male’s blood boiling, and went about passing out the drinks. She was efficient as she set them around the table, and Brant raised a brow as he saw her place a napkin and a beer in front of the fifth seat. As far as he knew, only the DEA, Homeland Security and the assigned Navy SEAL team had active operatives searching for the del Fuego labs. It had been an assignment met with little success over the last few years.
“Ooh, baby,” Shane said, as Lily gave him one last smile and closed the door behind her so they’d have privacy. “I think I’m in love.”
“That’s what you said last night, dickhead,” Devlin said.
“There’s love and then there’slove,” Shane said, waggling his eyebrows. “I think Lily could be the one. And she was real delicate about the way she slipped her number in my pocket.” He held up the piece of paper from his pocket for them to admire.
“Jesus, sometimes I can’t believe I’m related to you,” Declan said. “How old are you again? Fifteen?”
“Jealousy doesn’t become you, brother. Just because you’ve got a sex life that rivals great-aunt Matilda doesn’t mean I’m ready to follow in your footsteps.”
“Am I wrong, or did I miss the part where this was a MacKenzie family brawl instead of a government op?” Brant asked.
“You’ve been in the middle of enough MacKenzie family brawls to recognize when it’s serious,” Declan said. “Or have you forgotten the broken nose? Maybe I need to refresh your memory.”
Brant flipped him off and took the seat next to him. “I knew you did that on purpose, asshole. A slip of the elbow my ass.”
“All’s fair in football. Suck it up, Nancy.”
“Maybe if Cagney and Lacey are done playing darts, we can get this show on the road.” Brant took a long sip of beer and felt some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. It had been too long since he’d just taken an evening to relax. “I’d like to have an entire weekend off at some point in my career.”
“I’ve never had one of those,” Declan said. “I don’t see why you should get one if I can’t.”
“I appreciate that, Dec. You’re nothing but heart.”
“That’s not what the ladies tell him,” Shane broke in with a laugh. “They tell him he’s nothing but—”
“Enough, Shane,” Declan growled. “Take a seat, and lets get this done. Our guest will be here before I’m done with the briefing.”
An uneasy feeling slithered up Brant’s spine, but he pushed it away. His intuition was infamous in the agency, and right now it was screaming red alerts at him. He trusted Declan. Hell, he trusted all the MacKenzies. But something was going on, and he was pretty sure he was going to hate whatever it was. He was an expert at reading people—at body language and the signs a person gives when they’re in an uncomfortable situation. Declan wasn’t giving away anything as usual, but he’d known Shane long enough to see the worry in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t stopped tapping his ring finger against his leg since Brant had walked into the room.
Declan tossed out sealed manila envelopes to everyone at the table. At Declan’s nod, they each broke the seal and pulled out the papers.
“We’ve received new intelligence that the del Fuego cartel has in fact been taken over by Alexander Ramos and the whole operation moved to Mexico.”
“Shit,” Brant said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. They all knew of Alexander Ramos. He was currently the leader for the Sinaloa drug cartel, which happened to be the most powerful and deadly cartel in Mexico. “He’s expanding his territory.”
“It looks that way,” Declan said. “He’s setting up the del Fuego cartel in southern Mexico, from the Yucatan to the border of Guatemala. He already controls almost all of the west, and I think we can agree that controlling that much territory isn’t going to go well once the Mexican government finds out and they start cracking down. The rumors are already spreading. The streets will be overflowing with the blood of innocent people.”
“But according to this information, we still don’t have a location for the new labs,” Devlin said, shuffling through the intel quickly. “How are we any better off than we were?”
“We don’t have the exact coordinates,” Shane said. “But we do have information we didn’t have access to before, and the new labs have definitely been set up in Ramos’ territory. My tech wizard was able to ferret out the information while my team was doing surveillance. In fact, I think Ramos took control over what was left of the del Fuego cartel just weeks after Carlos and Miguel del Fuego were killed. We were focusing all our attention on Colombia, but Ramos was keeping things on the down low until he had everything in place. I’m assuming it took time to rebuild the labs in a place no one would find them. The new rash of killings in the Yucatan area suggests the cartel is up and running for business now.”
