For a hot second she had been tempted to do nothing.

  To just let the man who’d been targeting her die in the hope that the threat would depart with him. But Teresa just couldn’t let another human being die.

  Matt must have sensed her upset, since he rubbed her shoulder and drew her closer. “You’ve got to stop thinking about it.”

  Maybe in his world that was how you learned to deal with things. You acted when needed and then you stopped thinking about it. But as she met Matt’s caring hazel gaze, it was clear he was thinking about it. About her and all that had happened.

  She offered him a tender smile and cupped his jaw. “Gracias.”

  His brow furrowed and his gaze narrowed in puzzlement. “For what?”

  “For understanding. For having my back.”

  “Always. I’ll always have your back,” Matt said, and with those words, relief swamped her, and when he pulled her closer, she nestled into his side.

  Sabotage Operation

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Caridad Piñeiro

  USA TODAY bestselling author Caridad Piñeiro is a Jersey girl who just wants to write and is the author of nearly fifty novels and novellas. She loves romance novels, superheroes, TV and cooking. For more information on Caridad and her dark, sexy romantic suspense and paranormal romances, please visit www.caridad.com.

  Books by Caridad Piñeiro

  Harlequin Intrigue

  South Beach Security: K-9 Division

  Sabotage Operation

  South Beach Security

  Lost in Little Havana

  Brickell Avenue Ambush

  Biscayne Bay Breach

  Cold Case Reopened

  Trapping a Terrorist

  Decoy Training

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Matt Perez—Marine Matt Perez once worked with the K-9 division to search out IEDs and other explosive devices. When Matt retired from the service, he patrolled the streets of South Beach with his K-9 partner, but now he’s one of South Beach Security’s new K-9 agents.

  Teresa Rodriguez—Teresa Rodriguez had once been an Olympic equestrian but fell in love with horse racing and now owns her own successful racing stable. She is supposed to testify against a former trainer accused of doping horses when she finds herself and her stables under attack.

  Ramon Gonzalez III (Trey)—Marine Trey Gonzalez once served Miami Beach as an undercover detective. Trey has since retired and is now the acting head of South Beach Security and is hoping to expand it with the addition of a K-9 division.

  Mia Gonzalez—Trey’s younger sister Mia runs a successful lifestyle and gossip blog and is invited to every important event in Miami. That lets Mia gather a lot of information about what is happening in Miami to help Trey with running SBS.

  Josefina (Sophie) and Robert Whitaker Jr.—Trey’s cousins Josefina and Robert are genius tech gurus who work at SBS and help the agency with their various investigations.

  To my daughter Samantha Ann

  So proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished with

  Seoul Searching and all your other books!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Excerpt from Resolute Bodyguard by Leslie Marshman

  Chapter One

  The frantic pounding on the thick wooden door echoed through the early morning silence of the ranch house, dragging Teresa Rodriguez from the bills that had forced her awake.

  She rushed to the front door, her riding boots hammering against the wood floor, and jerked it open. Her stable hand Luis stood there wringing his hands, wide-eyed and pale as milk.

  “You have to come. Frijoles is down,” the young man said, turned and raced in the direction of the stables.

  Teresa tore after him, fear chilling her gut. Frijoles was not only her best friend, he was also her top stallion. She had been counting on the stud fees from breeding him to pay off the last of her debts. Without him...

  She sprinted across her driveway and the dew-damp grass next to the stables. Her feet skidded on the pavers surrounding the building as she rounded the corner to the stable entrance, raced to the stallion’s stall and caught sight of her trainer kneeling in the straw by her horse. The large bay’s body twitched and convulsed beneath his hands.

  “What happened, Richard?” she asked, squatting beside him. She joined the trainer in running her hands across the horse’s muscled flanks to try to calm him as he thrashed his legs, rousing the straw’s grassy smell.

  The older man shrugged and dipped his head in the direction of her stable hand. “Luis said that Frijoles started acting up right after he began his morning feeding. When he went to check on him, the horse collapsed. That’s when Luis got me. I’ve already called the vet. She’s nearby and should be here soon.”

  “What can we do in the meantime?” she asked, her gut twisting into a knot as the horse’s muscles shuddered beneath her palm. It pained her to see her horse hurting.

  Richard tightened his lips and settled his hazel-eyed gaze on her. “I could give him some activated charcoal, but it could upset his gut.”

  “Do we know what caused this?” she asked and stroked the horse’s side. His skin was slightly damp, and his powerful muscles shook violently. Choppy and irregular breathing, as if he couldn’t catch his breath after a long race, had her breath trapping in her chest with fear.

  “Maybe something he ate,” Richard said with a shrug. “Let’s check his feed bucket.”

  She looked over at the young stable hand who stood a few feet away, nervously twisting his hands. Worry and guilt were evident in his eyes, and she rose and laid a hand on his arm to calm him.

  “It’s nothing that you did, Luis. Can you show me Frijoles’s feed for this morning?”

  Luis nodded, walked to the corner of the stall where a large plastic feed bucket hung and came back with it.

  Frijoles had only eaten part of his breakfast, and as she examined it, she noticed something unusual. Mixed in with the alfalfa, oats and other nutrients were odd bits of green. She stuck her hand into the feed, sifted through it and discovered larger pieces of what looked like leaves. Oval-shaped and dark green. Nothing she immediately recognized, but she knew one thing: they didn’t belong in the stallion’s feed.

  She walked over with some of the leaves and held them out so the trainer could see them.

  Richard’s eyes widened in shock. “Where did you get those?”

  “They were in Frijoles’s feed bucket.”

  “Looks like belladonna leaves. They’re poisonous and if I’m right, we can’t wait for the vet. I’ll go prep the charcoal.” He leaped to his feet, raced out of the stall and toward the tack room, where they kept an assortment of supplies for tending to the horses.

  The horse whinnied and tried to raise his head but failed and restlessly shifted his legs against the soft straw bedding on the floor again.

  “Tranquilo, Frijoles. You’ll be okay, por favor,” she crooned, trying to calm the stallion so that he wouldn’t injure himself.

  The screech of tires heralded the arrival of the vet and barely a few minutes later, Dr. Miranda Ramirez raced into the stall carrying a large leather bag.

  “How is he?” Miranda asked and knelt in the straw beside the horse.

  “He ate belladonna,” Teresa said and held out her hand to show the vet the leaves she had found in the feed. A second later, her trainer returned with a large bucket filled with the activated charcoal solution and long vinyl tubing.

  “Definitely belladonna. Keep him calm,” Miranda said while she took a blood sample.

  “We’ll confirm the poisoning with this and some stool samples,” the vet said. She finished drawing the blood and reached for a vial of something in her bag. At Teresa’s questioning look, she said, “Neostigmine. It’ll counteract the atropine toxin.”

  Teresa kept her hands on the horse, stroking and crooning, trying to keep the horse still while Richard and Miranda worked together, feeding the tubing through the horse’s nostril until it reached his stomach. Once the tube was in place, Richard pumped the activated charcoal through the tubing with a large syringe while Miranda set up an IV with fluids.

  “We may have to hospitalize Frijoles if he doesn’t respond to this,” she said as she inserted the catheter for the IV in the horse’s foreleg and wrapped a bandage around it to keep it in place. Then she prepped the fluid bag, connected the tubing into the catheter and laid the fluid bag on the horse’s flank. “I’ll get a drip stand in a second,” Miranda said.

  “Whatever it takes,” Teresa replied.
The bay was not only her top breeder, he was a combination best friend and therapist. Whenever she started wondering if opening the stables had made sense, Frijoles was there to listen or take her for a spin along the track to calm her doubts and worries.

  Miranda laid a hand on her arm, her touch reassuring. “We’ll make him better. Don’t worry.”

  Teresa nodded and attempted a smile, but it was as brittle as the thin layer of ice protecting orange trees against a freeze. She laid her hands on the bay and softly murmured to him, trying to comfort him.

  Long minutes became an even longer hour. Her back ached from kneeling over the horse, but she kept at it, as did Richard and Miranda, tending to the horse until the trembling eased and his breathing became more regular. The bay was even relatively calm as Richard withdrew the nasogastric tube.

  “He’s responding,” Miranda said happily and leaned back onto her haunches. “We’ll need to keep giving him the IV fluids and monitor for any signs of gut issues or laminitis.”

  “Gracias, Miranda. Richard. You know Frijoles means the world to me,” she said as they all came to their feet and wiped bits of straw from their pants legs.

  “I have another call to make but will be back in about an hour to keep up the treatment,” Miranda said, reaching for her medical bag. She shot another look at the horse and said, “Just keep him quiet and replace the IV bag when it’s empty.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks again, Miranda,” Richard said and held his hand out in the direction of the stall door. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Teresa watched as Richard escorted the vet from the stall. She’d always thought her trainer had a thing for the beautiful vet. When Miranda offered him a shy smile, it seemed as if the feeling might be mutual. They made a good-looking couple.

  Even at sixty, Richard was physically fit and imposing, with a thick thatch of salt-and-pepper hair, a strong jaw and sharp hazel eyes. Miranda was a decade younger, with coffee-brown hair just showing the first few strands of gray, chocolate brown eyes and an hourglass figure that would tempt most men.

  Frijoles knickered as if complaining he didn’t have her beside him, and Teresa kneeled next to him once more. “You’re going to be fine,” she murmured and stroked his flank.

  The horse blew out a breath through his nostrils, almost in agreement, and closed his eyes, seemingly comfortable now that he had her attention.

  Much like whoever had been playing the little tricks around the stables now had her complete attention. She’d tried to write off all the other things as forgetfulness or accidents, but they had stressed her out. The unlocked gate at the paddock that had let some of the other horses roam into a neighboring avocado grove. The small electrical fire in the corner of a shed that housed spare tack. The waterlogged packages holding the new silks that her jockeys would wear in a few months when the racing season began.

  She couldn’t keep on ignoring those incidents anymore and she suspected who was behind all the mayhem: Warner Esquivel, her former trainer who was being investigated by the racing commission. She’d fired him years earlier because she’d caught him drugging one of her mares. Now the racing commission wanted her to testify against Esquivel.

  It was painfully obvious that she had underestimated what he would do to keep her quiet. Luckily, she knew what to do to protect herself, her people and her horses.

  Pulling her cell phone from her jeans pocket, she dialed her friend Mia Gonzalez. Mia’s family ran South Beach Security and she trusted that they could get to the bottom of whatever was happening.

  Mia answered on the first ring. “Hola, amiga. It’s so good to hear from you.”

  “I wish I could say this was a friendly call, but I need your help. Actually, I need SBS’s help.”

  “Whatever you need,” Mia said without hesitation.

  Teresa breathed a sigh of relief, the first one since rushing to Frijoles’s stall hours earlier. She hoped that with the Gonzalez family on her side, she could stop whoever was trying to hurt her and her business.

  * * *

  EVEN AFTER SIX months on the job it struck Matt Perez as odd to see his old friend Trey Gonzalez sitting behind a desk. Trey had always been an all-action guy from their time together in the Marines to their assignments on the Miami Beach police force.

  But the desk job seemed to be working for Trey. Matt had never seen his friend looking happier, especially since his wedding a month earlier to Roni Lopez, who was still a detective with Miami Beach PD.

  Although Trey’s door was open, his head was buried in the papers on his desk, so Matt rapped his knuckles on the door to announce his arrival. Beside him his K-9 partner Butter bumped up against his leg and looked up at him, as if wondering what they were doing in the office. For the last six months they’d been spending time between an assortment of security jobs as well as training Butter on a variety of tasks. So far, the Belgian Malinois had been learning quickly and Matt hoped that in time, their working together would be as seamless as it had been with the K-9 partner he’d had while on the force.

  “Come in, Matt,” Trey called out and rose from the large glass-and-metal desk. He bro-hugged his old friend and bent toward Butter, but hesitated. “Is it okay to pet her?”

  Normally he didn’t permit people to treat his working K-9s as if they were domesticated companions, but Trey was the boss of his family’s agency. As a K-9 officer for South Beach Security, Butter might have to one day interact with Trey, so it was good for her to be familiar with the other man.

  “Sure. She should get to know you,” Matt said and stood there holding the leash while Trey held his hand out for the dog to sniff.

  Butter did that, but then hesitated and looked up at Matt, as if seeking his permission. With a smile, Matt said, “Good girl, Butter. This is Trey.”

  The dog finally sniffed Trey’s hand, and sensing he was a friend and not a foe, the shepherd bumped her head against Trey’s hand.

  “You are a good girl,” Trey said and knelt to rub the dog’s head. Butter’s tongue lolled out of her mouth with pleasure. Looking up at Matt, his friend said, “I gather her training is going well?”

  Matt nodded. “It is. She’s got a great sense of smell and handles instructions well. We’re still learning a few things, but she’s going to be a great K-9 partner.”

  “That’s good to hear, because we’ve got an important case for you,” Trey said and straightened. As he did so, his gaze drifted over Matt’s shoulder toward the door.

  Matt turned to find Trey’s baby sister, Mia, standing at the door, beautiful as ever. She looked well considering she’d almost died after being shot two months earlier during a case that had threatened her newlywed husband as well as the Gonzalez family.

  She was dressed casually today in jeans and a loose, pale pink tunic top. It made her look younger, especially since he was used to seeing her all done up in the designer clothes and shoes she wore when doing one of her social media gigs with her cousin Carolina. The two women, affectionately called “the Twins,” had been familiar fixtures when he’d patrolled the South Beach scene with his K-9 partner.

  Trey walked over to hug her and said, “Good morning, hermanita. How are you feeling?”

  “Stronger every day,” Mia said and then sashayed to his side and embraced him. “Good to see you, Matt.”

  “You, too, Mia. How are you adjusting to married life and working with Trey?” he asked, aware that the family members had faced serious challenges in recent months.

  “I’m doing well but Carolina is missing me. I’m sure she’d love some company,” Mia said with a warm smile and a playful wink.

  Even though Carolina was as smart and beautiful as Mia, Matt waved his hands in the air to dismiss any suggestion that he’d be interested in Carolina. “You rich girls are out of my league,” he said and truly meant it. He’d been burned once by that kind of woman and had no desire to repeat the experience.

  Trey clapped him on the back. “Let’s get to it, then, although you may not like the assignment we’re about to give you.”

  “Why’s that?” Matt asked as he sat in front of Trey’s desk and instructed Butter to lie down with a hand command. After, he rewarded his new partner with a “good girl” and the ear rubs she loved so well.