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At the same time, I understood Elliott 100%. His Carillo hunt was supposed to be another lead that would bring home our loved ones, and they’d just smacked into a huge obstacle.
Caused by Crew.
According to the update, Crew would deliver “everything we needed to know” in three days. Or four days, but they’d found Crew’s message yesterday.
River joined me outside, carrying the cooler with him, and set it down by my feet.
I handed him my phone. “Tell me why a federal agent who’s been undercover for however many years suddenly flies to Colombia, and tell me why Crew feels the need to go with him.”
Riv raised his eyebrows and started reading.
I didn’t wanna be in Elliott’s shoes right now. Hell, I didn’t wanna be in my own shoes.
I couldn’t imagine sitting around doing fuck-all for three or four days. And it would be pointless for them to fly all the way here, only to return right away. Flying between Spain and California took two days, easy.
After a minute or two, River handed back my phone. “He’s a Finlay. Either he feels Mercier needs more backup, or he fucked himself over and got emotionally attached.”
Or a combination of both.
My phone buzzed with a regular text message before I could pocket it, so I looked at the screen and—finally. It was Emerson.
Don’t give me shit, kid. You and your brother should’ve reached out the moment Shay was taken. Instead, we had to hear about it on the bloody news. If you want more details, you can meet up with us. Danny and I will be in the area a few more days.
At forty-five, I was still “kid” to that old bastard. No wonder Shay liked him.
“Ryan might wanna send Cullen to Colombia,” River said pensively, referring to Crew’s old man.
“Huh?”
“And not alone,” he went on. That put me on edge, because River was on edge too. “If Mercier’s been undercover for years, the goal was probably never to nail Carillo. He’s aiming for the top. I think he’s in Colombia to assassinate the big boss. What was his name? Luca Blanco?”
I frowned, more lost than ever. Now, I wasn’t one of those naïve schmucks who thought our country didn’t pull stunts outside their jurisdiction—for fuck’s sake, I’d made a living out of that. But if Mercier and Crew were alone or had very little backup with them, then this was more than a rescue operation.
“Why would Crew risk his life for…” I trailed off and sighed heavily with a skyward glance.
Crew, you little shit.
“Emotional attachment,” River finished.
Yeah.
“In other news, Em hasn’t lost his touch.” I showed him Emerson’s message.
He gestured at the phone. “We might need them.”
I nodded. Especially if the chase for Shay, Blake, and Marisa was down to River and me, now that the rest of our team was stuck in Spain doing nothing. And Ramirez had been ticked off about waiting twenty-four hours for that update from Crew—now they had to wait even longer.
“I’ll give them a call later,” I said. “I gotta check in with Melanie too.” We hadn’t been able to see her when she’d come out for her meeting with the police, but we stayed in touch through a throwaway cell we’d sent her. All she asked for was a daily message.
“Hey!” we heard Luiz call out, his voice raspy. “Can we bargain?”
River and I exchanged a look before we headed back inside the barn.
It would be really fuckin’ nice if we could put this guy behind us as soon as possible. We had others we needed to track down too. In fact, there was a Luiz number two as well. He was this Luiz’s godfather, and he’d traveled a similar path. Roots in both Brazil and Mexico, several prison sentences, considered one of Carillo’s closest associates, and he’d dropped off the face of the earth.
I folded my arms over my chest. “Start talkin’.”
Luiz glanced between River and me, clearly in pain. His lips were chapped too, his skin oily and sweaty. “If I give you my uncle, will you let me go?”
