“I’m just comforting my friend,” she retorted. “If that makes you mad, then too fucking bad.”
“That rhymed,” another voice piped up. Luke’s Cajun drawl. “And why do you need comforting, Boston? You been off the grid so long you’ve forgotten how to conduct simple recon? Are you crying right now? Bailey, darling, give the man a tissue.”
Liam touched his ear to activate his mic. “Hey Reilly, tell Dubois what I’m doing with my hand right now.”
Reilly snickered. “He’s flipping you the bird, mate.”
Luke made a sound of mock pain. “Fuck, that hurts. Reilly, send your wife my way. I’m the one who needs comforting now.”
“Fuck the lot of you,” Sean replied pleasantly.
“Boys,” Isabel said. “Let’s play nice.”
“Let’s not play at all,” Trevor spoke up, sounding annoyed. “How about we all remember what’s at stake here?”
Liam instantly sobered and the feed fell silent. No one ragged Trevor for being a buzz kill because the reminder was just what they needed. Rivera had sent armed thugs after Cate. Those thugs had put three bullets in Morgan’s back. Noelle might have been the one to declare war, but every man and woman who cared about Jim Morgan wouldn’t rest until Rivera was dead as a fuckin’ doornail.
Liam once again assessed his surroundings. The pale glow of lights in the windows of nearby buildings, the muffled sound of music pouring out of an open window. At the building next to their target, an older man stood on a balcony, puffing on a cigar while he murmured into a cell phone. Lucky bastard. Most of the people in this country didn’t have food or water and this fucker could afford a cell provider.
“Seriously, though,” Bailey murmured from the passenger side. “I miss you, Liam.”
His throat tightened. “I miss you too.”
More than she would ever know. And he didn’t just miss her—he missed this. Despite the circumstances that had brought them to Guatana, he loved being with his team again. Loved knowing that Luke and Isabel and Sean were lying on nearby roofs with sniper rifles. Loved knowing that the rest of his teammates . . . D, Trev, Kane, Ethan, Ash, Sullivan . . . that they were all on the ground, armed to the teeth, and waiting for the order to strike.
He’d missed the camaraderie. The chatter over the comm. The way they moved together like a well-oiled machine.
“You’re worrying me.”
He looked over again. “Why? Because I’m not feeling chatty?”
“You’re never feeling chatty, honey. That’s Sully’s job—he’s the one who can never shut up.” She pursed her lips. “But you’ve both been worryingly quiet since you got here.” Her gray eyes probed his face. “The relationship ended because of him, didn’t it?”
His jaw twitched. Goddamn this woman. She was too fuckin’ perceptive. “I told you. Penny dumped me.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Yes. I got that. But she dumped you because of him, didn’t she?”
“Not exactly.”
“That means I’m right.”
Christ. He wanted to drag both hands through his hair in frustration, but if his hand got too close to his ear he would activate his mic and then the whole team would hear this awkward conversation, so he curled his fingers over the steering wheel instead.
“She found out I was bisexual,” he muttered. “She didn’t like it.”
“So she ended it?” Bailey shook her head in disgust. “That’s it. I hate her.”
He had to smile. “You don’t even know her.”
“Doesn’t matter. I hate her. Anyone who hurts one of my best friends deserves to get punched.” She paused. “What about the guy?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Discomfort twisted Liam’s stomach. Couldn’t he have been paired up with anyone else? Just his luck that Kane had teamed him with Bailey, a woman who was way too skilled at prying.
“What guy?” he said lightly.
She gave him a pointed look. “The guy, Liam. You know who I’m talking about.”
He swallowed a sigh. “What about him?”
“Who ended that? You or him?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
“Because it didn’t feel right.”
“Because it didn’t feel right, or because he didn’t feel right?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.” Even as her watchful gaze continued to scan the street, she reached over again and touched his cheek.
A growl sounded in both their ears, but they ignored it. Fortunately, Sean didn’t pipe up again.
“I hate seeing you unhappy,” she said quietly.
“I’m not unhappy.”
Liar.
Fine. He was fucking miserable. And seeing Sully again wasn’t exactly helping matters. He wasn’t sure how he’d expected their reunion to go down, but it hadn’t been this awkward sort of indifference. It was as if they were operating in a weird state of denial. Other than that one charged moment in the barracks when they’d almost ventured into territory that scared the shit out of him, they hadn’t had a single meaningful conversation.
But maybe that was for the best. Maybe they didn’t need to talk about any of that shit. Sullivan hadn’t wanted to start something up in the first place, and it had taken Liam two years to reach the point where he didn’t lie awake at night fantasizing about his friend.
Except . . . two days back in Sully’s presence, and Liam had reverted to the pathetic, confused mess he’d been before they said good-bye two years ago.
What made it worse was that Sully didn’t look like the man Liam had left in Portugal—he looked like the man Liam had lusted over before Sully’s abduction. He’d cropped his blond hair, shaved the beard, bulked up. And unlike the last time they’d seen each other, his silvery eyes were sharp and alert again. He really was sober these days, and although that made Liam eternally grateful, being around the pre-captivity Sully—that vibrant, gorgeous man who oozed sexuality—just reignited the attraction Liam had fought so hard.
He didn’t need to feel that lust again. He didn’t need to remember that night in Dublin, after Sully had been injured in a car bombing. Liam had slid into bed with him that night, wrapped his hand around his friend’s cock, and—
Fuck. No. He couldn’t let his mind go there. It had been a onetime thing. A random sexual encounter designed to make Sullivan forget about the pain he’d been feeling.
“CIA just got back to us.” Kane’s voice cut over the feed.
Both Liam and Bailey snapped to attention.
“What are we looking at?” Ash asked.
“We’ve got two floors—”
“No shit,” D grunted. “We’ve been staring at those two floors for six hours.”
“You gonna let me finish?” Kane asked in amusement.
“Sorry,” D muttered. “Proceed.”
“Bottom floor is showing nine distinct heat signatures. All in motion—I’m thinking it’s a crew packaging up the coke.”
“Top floor?” Oliver Reilly, Sean’s twin, asked.
“Only two heat signatures. One prone, northeast corner. Another standing near the west wall.”
“Think it’s Rivera?” Luke piped up.
“Could be,” Kane answered. “Obviously he’s been lying low since he faked his death. Stands to reason he’d be holed up in some safe house.”
Ethan’s skeptical voice joined in. “One as lightly guarded as this one?”
“Lightly?” Ash echoed. “Try not at all. We’ve got no exterior guards, for fuck’s sake.”
“Could be a trap,” Sean said flatly.
“Or a strategic move on his part,” Trevor countered. “Posting an army out here would be like a neon sign that there’s something—or someone—important inside. Rivera might not want to draw that kind of attention to himself.”
>
“Either way,” Kane spoke up, “there’s no way to verify the identities of the second-floor tangos unless we go in.”
“Then we go in,” D said with impatience.
The team leader paused, then barked out a series of commands. “Everyone get in position. D, set the charges. You, Sully, and Ash penetrate from the front. Door in the back looks like reinforced steel—we’ll need to blow that too. Ethan, Reilly Two, I want you posted out there in case anyone makes a run for it. Bailey, Boston, cover the front. Luke, Izzy, Reilly One, take the bird’s eye. Me and Trev will drop in from above. Skylight looks flimsy—we can blow that with one charge.”
“Just the two of you?” Oliver asked warily.
“We’re only dealing with two tangos. We need the rest of you downstairs to handle the bulk on the first floor. Trev, make your way up to me.”
“Copy.”
“Everyone ready?” Kane said grimly.
A chorus of yessirs rang over the line.
“Good. Wait for my word.”
There was nothing worse than being assigned to provide cover fire but Liam didn’t object to Kane’s orders. A former SEAL, Morgan’s second-in-command had planned and executed hairier ops than this one—Kane knew what he was doing.
Still, Liam wasn’t thrilled as he slid out of the car and got in position. As he checked the magazine of his assault rifle, he heard an answering click and saw Bailey doing the same. She was crouched behind the rear door near the trunk, while he was hunched behind the side of the hood.
“D,” Kane barked. “Charges set?”
“Affirmative.”
“Ethan?”
“Ready when you are.”
Liam tensed at the brief silence that followed. He raised his rifle and aimed at the front door, catching sight of D’s shadowy figure slithering away from it. Red lights blinked from the detonators D had stuck over the knob and on each corner of the door. And although Sully and Ash were too good to be spotted, Liam knew they were nearby, hiding in the shadows.
“On my count,” Kane finally said. “One.”
Liam adjusted his grip.
“Two.”
His trigger finger itched.
On Kane’s three, a burst of blinding light illuminated the street like a bolt of lightning in a black sky. The front door was blown off its hinges, releasing a wave of shrapnel that flew in all directions. It didn’t come close to hitting Liam and Bailey, but he felt the heavy thud made by the door as it crashed onto the pavement a few feet from them.
Almost immediately, three black-clad figures advanced on the hole that the explosion had left behind. Ash or Sully must have thrown a smoke bomb because suddenly Liam couldn’t see anything but a white-gray cloud that swallowed up his teammates as they moved inside.
Up above, a plume of smoke floated through the air; Kane and Trevor had blown the skylight. And from Ethan’s brisk report, the back door had been taken out too.
“Going in,” Ash reported.
“We need them alive,” was Kane’s brusque reply. “Incapacitate, don’t kill.”
“Roger that.”
Liam had never felt more ineffective in his life as he stared at the smoke pouring out of what used to be the front door. Sully, D, and Ash weren’t activating their mics, so he had no idea what they’d encountered inside. His spine stiffened when he heard shots, but the gunfire didn’t last long. As it died off, it was replaced by muffled shrieks from the building’s interior. Shrieks that were too high in pitch to have come from men.
He and Bailey exchanged a puzzled look, but neither of them so much as moved. They had their orders, and their weapons remained trained on the door.
Another wave of gunfire filled the night. It sounded like it was coming from above, which meant Trevor and Kane had breached the second floor.
Sure enough, Kane reported in a second later, and he didn’t sound pleased. “It’s not him,” he growled. “Just some punk-ass kid jerking off.”
“Literally,” came Trevor’s dry voice. “Walked in on him with his hand around his dick.”
Liam didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. Fuck. The cursing won out. Because if Rivera wasn’t one of the two tangos upstairs, chances were he wasn’t downstairs either.
“Ash,” Kane prompted. “Report in.”
After a short pause, Ash’s Southern drawl filled Liam’s ear. “No one of value down here. Our contact at the CIA was right—this is a packaging facility. We’re looking at a bunch of low-level grunts. And they didn’t even put up a fight. Surrendered the second we came in.”
Sean chuckled. “You mean D didn’t get to shoot anyone?”
“Shoot them?” D echoed. “You know I prefer a knife.”
“Right. Forgot what a sick motherfucker you are, mate.”
“On our way down,” the team leader spoke up.
Liam frowned at Kane’s report. “What about Mr. Dick-in-his-hand?” he demanded.
“He doesn’t know shit. Said that Rivera’s other son is calling the shots now and that Mr. Dick was assigned to head security for this warehouse. Apparently Rivera Junior holds all his meetings in one of the warehouses by the docks.”
“We gathered intel on all those facilities,” Trevor added. “They all deal in cargo. Rivera wouldn’t be hiding out at any of them.”
“Do we believe the jerk-off boy?” Ash asked.
“Yeah, I think we do, Rook.” Kane made a disgusted noise. “He pissed all over himself when we came in through the roof. Started talking immediately, and he didn’t set off my bullshit meter. Kid didn’t know anything.”
“And the guard?”
“KIA. He fired at us.”
“Jesus,” D growled, his impatience unmistakable. “Let’s stop wasting time with this chatter and torture these fuckers. One of them has to know something.”
Liam touched his ear. “You guys need me in there?”
“Negative,” Kane replied. “We’ve got it covered. Maintain your position.”
He swallowed a rush of disappointment. He’d come to Guatana for Jim, to potentially say good-bye to a man he loved and respected, but now that they were on a mission, he craved the action. He hated being banished outside like a guard dog.
Bailey caught his eye knowingly. “Stop pouting, sweetie.”
“I’m not pouting,” he grumbled.
But yeah, he kind of was. This fuckin’ sucked.
And who knew what was going on inside, because the comm had gone quiet again. It seemed like he’d been waiting an eternity, but a glance at his tactical watch showed that only five minutes had passed.
“Kane,” he said when a report still hadn’t surfaced. “Anyone squeal yet?”
“No, and they’re not going to either. These are just minions. They know shit all.” Kane sounded annoyed. “We’re sending a few of them out. Hold your fire.”
Liam and Bailey exchanged another look. They were sending out hostages? What the fuck was that about?
Half a minute later, several shadows darkened the cloud of smoke that was beginning to thin out, and then three women came tearing through the doorway like bats out of hell. Wearing nothing but bras and panties, with their hair tied back in bandanas, the trio of females stumbled onto the sidewalk.
Liam raised his rifle, only for Bailey to hiss at him. “He said hold your fire.”
“I’m not firing. Just preparing.”
“They’re not armed.”
“They’re still part of the crew.” They had to be, judging by their state of undress. There’d been too many instances in the past of cartel employees trying to steal the drugs they were cutting and packaging, and sneaking the product out in their clothing. Nowadays, it was protocol to force the crews to work in their underwear. The Barrios cartel had done the same thing when Liam was undercover with them.
Across the street, the three women were no longer dazed and unsure. They sprinted down the sidewalk, their sandals slapping the pavement with each frantic step they took to put distance between themselves and the warehouse.
“We’re coming out,” Kane said a moment later.
Liam watched as several of his teammates stalked out of the gaping doorway. They dispersed quickly, heading for the various vehicles on the street or ducking into nearby alleys. As Ethan reported that he and Oliver were still watching the rear, Sullivan and D darted across the empty road and joined Bailey and Liam behind the car.
Liam didn’t miss the streak of soot on Sully’s chiseled face, which probably got there during the initial explosion. And though now was probably not the time to notice how hot Sully looked, it was impossible not to.
D, meanwhile, wore a satisfied, savage expression, which made Liam wonder if he’d gotten to use his knife in there after all.
“Luke,” Kane said over the feed. “Release the Kraken.”
Liam barely had time to smother a laugh before a puff of blue whizzed past his peripheral vision.
Luke, who was on the roof of the building behind them, was armed with a rocket launcher and he obviously got off on using it because a loud whoop echoed in Liam’s ear seconds before the warehouse went boom.
“What about the men inside?” Bailey shouted over the loud explosion that rocked the building.
“They work for Rivera,” was D’s implacable response. “They kill for Rivera.”
Liam saw Bailey bite her lip in dismay as she gazed at the wall of orange flames across the street. He knew she didn’t condone killing unless it was absolutely necessary, and, truth was, killing a bunch of cartel minions wasn’t a necessity.
But he also knew that they were all feeling a little bloodthirsty tonight. And if they couldn’t get their hands on Mateo Rivera, then they might as well send him a message that he’d never be able to misinterpret.
James Morgan’s people were not to be fucked with.
Chapter 19
“How did you let this happen?” It was difficult for Rivera to hold his son’s gaze when the entirety of his vision was a red haze.