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Her brain wasn’t playing tricks on her. She had been here before.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Trevino stood, his outline blocking the shape of whatever he held between his hands. Closing the distance between them, he kicked his chair backward to give himself room to crouch in front of her. “They’ll never fall for it.”
He raised the item in his hands. Forcing the Kevlar vest over her head, the Ponderosa chief effectively pinned her arms to her side and took away her chance of escape. Something vibrated against her chest, and a red light emitted from inside. “Let’s just say I’ve thought of that.”
THECARTELWASon the move.
Baker secured Maverick in the back seat of the truck and hauled himself behind the wheel. The engine growled to life at the push of a button, and within seconds, he, Jones and two Alpine PD deputies were charging after the armored caravan.
There was only one place he could think of for them to go this far out in the middle of nowhere. Their failed half-constructed headquarters. It was the perfect epicenter for the oncoming fight. Jocelyn was there. He couldfeelit.
Jones planted one hand against the dashboard from the passenger seat. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a bit intense?”
“A few. Though most of them were under arrest at the time.” Baker wasn’t in the mood for jokes, but it came easier now that he’d spent the past few days learning from Jocelyn.
“Jocelyn is a fighter. There’s nothing she can’t handle,” Jones said. “You know that now, don’t you?”
He did. Because it took a hell of a lot of strength to survive what she had. But being capable of fighting for so long didn’t mean she should have to. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have to fight alone.
The line of vehicles ahead disappeared off the horizon, and Baker sat straighter in his seat. “Where did they go?”
“The headquarters was built underground.” Jones pulled a laptop from the back seat and brought it into his lap. “Last time we were there, the structure was burning at the bottom of a sub-level hole. The cartel planned on burying it to avoid satellite imagery.”
“When was that?” Baker’s mind raced with every other question, but no number of answers were going to ease the tension in his chest.
“Two weeks ago. Right after Sangre por Sangre’s raid on Alpine Valley.” Jones hit the keys a few more times. What was he doing? Writing his biography? “Our forward observer, Cash, tore the place apart looking for Elena and her eight-year-old brother. When Jocelyn found them, they barely made it out before the building collapsed.”
“It’s cartel territory.” There was still a piece missing here. If he and Jocelyn were right, the bomber had set about an intricate plan to bring down the cartel by adding a second chief of police’s body to the tally. But that hadn’t worked. Apart from a few bumps and bruises, Baker was still breathing. Which meant... His skull connected with the headrest. “His plan didn’t work. The bomber. He didn’t get the response he wanted by coming after me, so he had to raise the stakes.”
“The bomber wants to use Jocelyn to pit Socorro and Sangre por Sangre against each other.” Jones’s fingers hesitated across the keyboard. Dread settled between them in the silence. “In that case, he’s going to get what he wants.”
Jones turned the screen to show an expanded geographical map. The screen blinked, zooming in on a rough patch of land. Then again. A square lit up around what looked like a car. “A single vehicle parked outside the building twenty minutes ago. An Alpine Valley police cruiser.” The combat controller did whatever combat operators did with satellite footage, and another image took over the screen. “This was five minutes ago.”
A ring of dark SUVs surrounded the lighter vehicle. Eight of them.
“Well, at least I know where West’s patrol car went.” Baker checked the rearview mirror. Both deputies were in the car behind them. No sirens. No lights. He caught sight of Maverick raising that caramel-colored gaze to his and floored the accelerator. The uneven terrain threatened to knock them off course, but there wasn’t anything that could prevent him from getting to that building.
A chain-link gate materialized not twenty feet in front of them. Baker didn’t bother stopping. The metal scratched and thudded over the hood of the car and threw it up into the air before crashing down to one side of the cruiser. The deputies at the back had to swerve to miss it.
“You’re going to pay for that,” Jones said.
“Submit an invoice to the city clerk’s office.” The words left as more growl than reason. Baker raced along what felt like the edge of a crater in the middle of the desert. There was a decline up ahead. He didn’t bother trying to slow his approach. The cartel was already inside, had possibly already found Jocelyn. The truck’s tires skidded down the incline and thrust the hood into the back of one of the black SUVs.
“Come on, man!” Jones’s annoyance simply grazed off Baker.
“What? Chicks love scars.” He threw the truck into Park, unholstering his side arm. Then he checked the magazine. Half-empty. But, knowing what he did about Socorro operatives, he bet Jones kept extra ammunition on hand. “I’m going to need to borrow some fresh magazines. Watch the dog.”
“You realize you’re not the one who gives me orders, right?” The combat operative unholstered his own weapon. “And you’re an idiot if you think you’re walking out of there alive without me.”
“Fine. I’ll get one of my guys to do it.” He shoved free of the truck. “So touchy. Here I thought you might like a babysitting job.” Baker handed off orders to his deputies—one to watch Maverick, the other to cover the exit.
Staying low and moving fast, they maneuvered as one through the collapsed parking garage to an entrance that hadn’t been pummeled with rubble. Shadows clouded his vision the instant they stepped foot inside. It smelled of fire and death and mold the deeper they navigated through what felt like a cement corridor.
“You good?” Jones asked.
Baker waited for the flashbacks, for the paralysis. For the hollowness in his chest to consume him completely. But it never came. There was only this moment. Of getting to Jocelyn. “I’m good.”
“Then pick up the pace.” Jones took the lead, weapon aimed high. Low voices echoed through the hall, but there were too many directions to pinpoint their location. Pulling up short, the operator handed off a radio. “We’re going to have to split up. You take the right. I got the left. Try not to get yourself killed.”
