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Emerson leaned forward with a proud little smile. “There’s a running joke at our agency from back in the day. Contract in Mexico? Send Elliott Jones. Colombia? Send Elliott Jones as a Mexican.”
I snorted in amusement and crammed more bread into my mouth.
“I’m glad I have one skill,” Elliott drawled.
“If it’s a gig that requires zero diplomacy, send Darius Quinn,” Danny quipped.
Ha! That was funny. Even River laughed
“Or Coach,” I said. “You’re almost as grumpy as Quinn.”
“Fuck you.”
I smacked my lips at him.
“So you were all with the same PMC agency in DC,” Greer stated.
I scratched the side of my head, glancing around us.
“I recruited the twins and Elliott,” Emerson confirmed. “Danny’s responsible for Mathis—I suppose we can both take credit for Darius Quinn and his brother.”
“Mathis and I were in the Army together,” Danny added.
“And you know the man my son’s with?” Cullen looked to Emerson and Danny for confirmation.
Emerson inclined his head. “Crew’s in good hands. If I’d managed to recruit Mercier, he would’ve been included in the running joke about Elliott. Unfortunately, Adrien’s a Fed through and through—but the best I’ve ever encountered.”
Cullen scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and nodded once. His worry for Crew sank in like a reality check for me. Here I was, laughing and shooting the shit, while Shay was…not here.
I dropped my stare to my food and swallowed hard.
Fucking hell.
River nudged me. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
I cleared my throat. Right. No moping. We had every reason to allow ourselves a small celebration. Shay knew we were coming for him. He knew we were here. He was alive.
“Speak of the devil… Guys, we have an update from Crew,” Coach said.
I tensed up and looked over at him. He’d been sitting with his laptop and phone all night.
“Firstly, the photos are coming through,” he went on. “Shitty quality in awkward angles, but we should be able to get a clearer image of what the inside looks like. Especially the area where Shay is.”
I checked my watch quickly. Almost three in the morning—sounded about right for the hours that partying cartel cocksuckers kept. Crew and Mercier probably hadn’t been able to retire until now.
“All right, this kid’s slick.” Coach lifted his brows and glanced briefly at River and me. “Crew withheld something earlier—he knew Shay was going to fight tonight. He did, and he won. Shay isfine. They called it a demonstration and warm-up for tomorrow. No causalities—which seems to be the result of a changed plan.”
Jesus fuck, Crew. River grabbed my hand, and I took a steadying breath. Shay had fought, and he’d won. He was fine. No use in panicking over something that’d already occurred. He was okay. I couldn’t even be mad at Crew—he’d spared us hours of stomach-twisting worry.
“What do you mean by changed plan?” Danny asked.
Coach read from the screen. “I think it’s part of this profiling dump… Hold on. Yeah—here. Enzo Blanco is accounted for. He’s Luca Blanco’s eldest son and running much of their Colombian operations. He’s a proud man with a fragile ego, according to both Crew and Mercier. For instance, the family loves to display their Italian roots, but if someone speaks better Italian than they do, they’re not happy.” Sure, sure. Don’t one-up the boss. “Enzo originally planned for a big fight tonight, but upon speaking to Shay and Mercier, the theory is that Enzo both raised the stakes and backed down at the same time. He has a bet going with Mercier about how far Shay will go, but Enzo wanted to see the kid in the ring first and announced a demo. The bet is apparently still on, so I guess he was satisfied with the results. Mercier thinks Shay will last longer than Enzo believes.”
I turned to River and furrowed my brow. His mind started racing too, I could tell. From all our years of experience… Could the Blancos have someone who might defeat Shay? Absolutely, though much would depend on how they armed their fighters. Shay was a champion in hand-to-hand combat. He was fast as hell, agile, knew precisely where to land a punch, and his threshold for pain was ridiculously high.
“He’s holding back.” Riv spoke under his breath, and I nodded. “He’s—”
“—not revealin’ his arsenal.” I couldn’t help but smile a little because I was so fucking proud of Shay. “More than that, he’s buying us all time.”
