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Excellent idea.
* * *
When the sun had set, we killed the lights and flicked on the simple camping lantern in the barn. Another waiting game had begun. Vásquez, Emerson, and Danny were in Tijuana, scouting the addresses. Both locations were in a residential area, one a bit nicer than the other. No signs of life reported by Vásquez, but Danny had messaged me about movement in the house that was more run-down. The current guess was that the man they’d spotted belonged to Jorge.
River and I had moved our chairs and the cooler to right outside the barn, where we were currently twiddling our thumbs and looking out over the expansive fields that stretched for miles and miles.
The last light was sinking steadily on the horizon.
I rested my ankle across my knee.
“Can I have water?” Luiz rasped inside the barn.
I didn’t answer.
He hadn’t given us anything of value in hours. No, he couldn’t fucking have water.
River leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs, and read through his notes for the hundredth time.
In his most recent attempt to figure out where Gajero could be hiding, he’d questioned Luiz about Gajero’s family. His wife, his kids, his grandkids. He’d texted with Willow too, to try to find where Gajero’s money came from. And where it went.
“Hey!” Luiz croaked.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to see a message from Greer. I’d been waiting.
Next time, encourage my nephew to become a paralegal or an accountant. We fly out in the morning. Any updates?
Oof. Crew as an accountant? He’d murder everyone out of sheer boredom.
I texted back.
Since when can a Finlay be made to do anything against his will, buddy? Appreciate the backup. Adding you to our chat server.
Greer had offered his assistance as soon as he’d heard about Shay being taken. He and all the other Finlays made up about 80% of the Marines. We’d declined ’cause, honestly, Greer belonged in another universe. He’d gotten out of the service and returned to a civilian career years ago, and his life was supposed to be about his farm and kink. He had a big family, and he’d been there when we’d started our community. We didn’t wanna take him away from that.
Now we were running out of options.
After messaging Willow about adding Greer to our server, presumably Cullen too, I sent Elliott a private text.
How are y’all doing over there?
He responded a couple minutes later.
Climbing the fucking walls. We’re just trying to puzzle pieces together. From what we gather, Mercier used Carillo to secure a sit-down with the higher-ups in Colombia, under the guise of brokering a peace deal between Blanco and Carillo. But once on-site, we suspect Mercier will carry out his own agenda. Ortega’s been calling everyone he trusts in law enforcement. He has plenty of buddies with both SDPD and the Bureau in Los Angeles, plus border patrol agents and the DEA—and nothing. Not even a whisper. We’re not saying there’s no task force or operation going; there obviously is, and they know how to keep their mouths shut. But with how little intel we get, how little we hear, not even a rumor or guess? We can at least assume the op isn’t involving several agencies and hundreds of people. And once you eliminate half the force of diplomats, tech, and paper pushers, you can start wondering if Colombia’s involved at all. That’s where we’re at.
I hummed and scratched my jaw. He had a point—and River had already guessed that Adrien was going to Colombia to assassinate Luca, which would likely occur without the knowledge and sanction of Colombia’s government. Emerson was on the same page.
It was my turn to provide an update, so I wrote about our interrogation of Luiz Gomez. I mentioned the operations in Brazil—another thing that lined up with Adrien’s work with Carillo. If Carillo wasn’t happy with the suppliers in Peru, it would do him good to strike a deal with Blanco. I let Elliott know about how Shay had been separated from Marisa and Blake as well, and that Emerson and Danny were on the case with us.
By the time I sent the message, Emerson had a new update for us.
We have eyes on Jorge. He’s alone with a single guard. No sign of Shay or any other reinforcements. Unless you have a reason to object, I want to interrogate Jorge. We can bring him back to the boat and head out.
I sat up straighter and texted back as impatience and anticipation buzzed through me.
Get him. Take care of the guard too. Aside from intel about Shay, we need to know where a man named Luiz Gajero could be. He’s holding our other two hostages somewhere. He’s supposedly close with Jorge, and he’s one of Carillo’s most trusted men.
Emerson’s reply was concise.
