With a deep breath, she wriggled her shorts down to her hip bones and folded the legs up to her coochie. Most of her midriff was bare, and the cool breeze had stiffened her nipples. Hopefully, distracting the two sentries wouldn’t require revealing more skin than that. She really didn’t want to get naked with either of them…but she’d been desperate enough to do worse in the past.

  Shoving the thought aside, she swayed around the side of the building. On the alert, both men zipped their gazes in her direction. Security lights from above illuminated their faces. They were under thirty and strapping. On the left, the blond man with an unkempt beard drew his weapon as he looked her up and down. On the right, a black man with arms bulging from his wifebeater followed suit.

  “Hola, gentlemen. Do not shoot. I am lost. I could find no one else to ask for directions at this hour.” She pressed a hand to her chest to draw attention to her nipples as she approached the garage. “But perhaps you can help me? I am driving to Miami. I have no GPS, and I cannot find the freeway. You will help me, yes?”

  The blond man gulped and nodded, his stare glued to her breasts.

  The other one smiled as if he fully intended to help her—out of her clothes. Then he holstered his weapon and slipped an arm around her middle. “Sure, baby. There’s a guard shack around the corner and—”

  “But your friend. We cannot leave him alone.” She looked back at the blond guy to find him staring at her ass. “Come closer. I am cold. Will you help keep me warm?”

  Immediately, he tucked his gun away and zipped to her side, plastering himself against her body. Laila shoved down a shudder, wondering why so many men were foolish enough to fall for such tactics. They were transparent. Obvious. Ridiculous.

  Because too many men thought with their chiles, rather than their brains.

  “That is better.” She sent them both inviting smiles. “What are you guarding? If you have been assigned to protect it, I am sure it is very important.”

  “It’s a car,” the bearded man answered. “The most expensive one ever registered for this race.”

  “Oh? Is it yours?”

  The black man snorted. “He wishes.”

  “I do. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He eyed her up and down again. “Except you.”

  Laila pretended to blush and flirt. “Can you show me?”

  The blond guy shook his head. “The doors are supposed to stay locked.”

  “Of course. And you are responsible men. But I am simply a lost woman, who is all alone and now very curious. Certainly there would be no harm in letting me peek? And it will…what is the word? Arouse me to see it.”

  The two men exchanged a glance. Then they grinned at one another.

  “All right, baby. Just a peek. You’ll reward us for it?”

  She smiled their way. “Of course.”

  The dark man punched numbers into the keypad, releasing the lock on the temperature-controlled unit. The other guy helped him push the door up. The lights flashed on. And there sat Geraldo Montilla’s prized possession, shiny, pristine, and candy-apple red.

  Laila gasped and touched her chest again. “Que carro más lindo.”

  “Huh?” The blond guy frowned.

  “What a beautiful car,” she supplied as she sauntered closer. “The more I look at it, the more I become”—she licked her lips, then bit the bottom one as if she held in a secret she could keep no more—“wet. Who will help me with that?”

  “I will,” the bearded man volunteered a split second later.

  The bigger man elbowed him. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Besides, she’s too much woman for you. I got her.”

  She laid her fingers on his brown chest with a sultry smile. When he started preening, she did the same to the blond man. “I am feeling…adventurous. There is enough of me to go around.”

  The blue-eyed man swallowed hard. “You think you can take us both?”

  “I want to try.” She ran her hand along the side of the sleek red car, silently marveling at how truly stunning the vehicle was. Then she bent over the hood and stuck her ass in the air. “I think I would like it.”

  If they crowded around her, they’d both be distracted. They would also have their backs to Victor, who now had an open path to sneak in and knock them out. That would do nicely.

  “Hmm, baby.” The big one gripped her hips and notched his erection against her backside.

  Laila held in a tremor of distaste. She did not want anyone’s hands on her except Trees’s.

  “Not here, dude.” The other guy bobbed his pale head toward the corner of the garage.

  She followed the gesture and tried not to wince. Cameras. Carajo! Hopefully, when Montilla saw this footage, he would not recognize her. After all, the last time they met she had barely been more than a child, and he’d treated her as if she was beneath his notice, thank God.

  The bigger man stepped back and grabbed her arm. “He’s right. Damn it.”

  Laila turned and buried her face in the man’s neck and pretended to breathe him in. He smelled like sweat and testosterone. Then she repeated the gesture with the bearded man, who also smelled of cigarettes.

  She tried not to choke. “Let us go to the guard shack, then. I am impatient.”

  “Good call. Follow me.” The big one dragged her out of the garage, around the corner, then down a narrow alley before the darkened guard shack came into view.

  “Wait!” the blond guy protested, lagging behind. “We’re not supposed to leave the garage open. Anyone could come in and steal the car.”

  Mr. Wifebeater rolled his eyes. “Who do you think is around to do that? It’s not even five o’clock in the morning. The partiers left a few hours ago, and the business heads won’t be here until after sunup. It’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

  “But—”

  “She’s wet,” he reminded through gritted teeth. “I’m not giving up good pussy for this shitty-paying temp job. But you feel free to stay.”

  “I need you both,” she whined. “Please.”

  With a long sigh, the blond guy shook his head and grumbled. “I’m probably going to hell, but fuck it.”

  Then he stomped after them.

  Victor better move quickly, because Laila doubted she could put these two off for long, and she refused to get naked and spread her legs.

  When they reached the guard shack, she held back, pursing her lips and batting her lashes. “Turn on the lights first. I am afraid of the dark.”

  At least that much was true.

  The big man hustled in and felt around for the switch.

  The blond guy looked shocked. “You want the lights on while we fuck you?”

  She dragged a finger over the curve of her breast. “Do you not wish to see all of me? I want to see you.”

  Despite the fact she nearly choked on the lie, he gave her a bug-eyed head bob and raced into the guard shack, right behind his partner.

  She gave them a come-hither smile—then slammed the door, grabbing the flag that proclaimed this the sector twelve security station from its nearby holder. With shaking hands, she shoved the fat pole between the long pull and the door itself, jamming it tight. This wouldn’t hold for more than a minute or two.

  Laila hoped that would be enough.

  At once, they began beating on the door while glaring out the windows at her.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Let us out, bitch!”

  She didn’t waste time responding, simply hustled away. When they broke the glass and started shooting, she tried to push back her panic, zigzagging to avoid their bullets.

  Pings whizzed past her. Laila gasped, her heart racing with fear. The big guy cursed. A glance back proved he’d reached through the open window to dislodge the metal pole. She didn’t stay around to see how long it took them to wriggle it free. She had to find Victor.

  Thankfully, when she rounded the corner, she heard the purr of the classic car’s engine. Then the vehicle rolled through the double doors, Victor behind the wheel.

  He shot her a triumphant glance, stroking the dashboard. “Get in. Montilla is going to miss the hell out of this car. Too bad for that fucking bastard.”

  Yes, and in less than five minutes, the drug lord would know his car had been stolen and by whom—exactly as she’d planned. But she couldn’t attract more of Montilla’s attention herself. She had to hope that the kingpin would write her off as a whore who had merely diverted his security for a good time or a buck.

  Suddenly, she heard shouting and the pounding of footsteps. The guards—with their guns—were free.

  “Go! I will meet you by the rental truck in five minutes.” Since the guards would undoubtedly chase the car, she stood a better chance of disappearing on foot.

  Laila darted into the maze of side buildings, skulking in the shadows until she lost them. Then she found the broken fence she’d entered through and slinked away from the racetrack, sprinting toward the nearby side street where they’d left the rented truck.

  And if Victor decided he didn’t need her and left her behind? Well, she would hardly mourn his departure. She had already planted the seed of ambition in his mind. He would go after Montilla until one or both of them were dead.

  But when she reached the U-Haul, Victor was there, frantically opening the back. “Get the ramp.”

  She raced to help him anchor it in place, then he drove the Ferrari into the cargo container. Heart slamming against her ribs, she looked over her shoulders for the guards. Thankfully, no sign of them—yet.

  Laila dispensed with the ramp, plucked up a ball cap she’d planted nearby just as Victor cut the engine and hopped to the street and yanked down the door. She charged toward the driver’s side, tucking her hair beneath the cap. Once she slid behind the wheel and Victor settled into the passenger’s seat, she pulled away from the curb with a sigh of relief.

  They’d done it. She was still shaking like a leaf, and the coming adrenaline crash would probably have her vomiting soon, but they had succeeded. Victor was now on Montilla’s radar. The kingpin would definitely divert resources to finding his expensive toy. Hopefully, he’d be enraged—and sloppy. That’s when Laila would make her next move.

  “Where am I driving?” She glanced over her shoulder as she headed toward the freeway, wishing more than anything that she could turn around and head straight back to Trees.

  Victor pocketed the keys. “Mexico. I know where we can hide this thing until I’m ready to make my move.”

  Lafayette

  Barely twenty-four hours after he’d last seen Laila, Trees parked in front of a light industrial building on the east side of Lafayette that had seen better decades. At twenty minutes before dawn, he choked back the last of his black coffee and exited his Hummer, slamming the door behind him.

  Strung out on caffeine and restless energy, he approached the seemingly deserted place and shouldered his way through the door. Inside, he scanned the busy domain. It could best be described as a war room, complete with wall-to-wall warriors. Unlike the exterior, this space looked up-do-date, tricked out, and high-tech. On any other day, he’d be eager to dig in and check everything out. Today, he was too fucking worried about Laila.

  “Trees.” Hunter Edgington stood and approached, obviously exhausted and on edge.

  He headed in his boss’s direction, passing a handful of familiar faces, along with some he’d never seen. “Hey, I got your text. What’s going on?”

  Hunter didn’t look as if he had the patience for explanations, or maybe the apprehension rolling off him worried his father, because the older man stood. Caleb, the team’s former leader, stopped him in the middle of the room. If possible, he looked even more grim. “Let me get you up to speed. Then we need your help.”

  Since the colonel was both OG and the best, Trees nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  “Thank you.” The older man pointed to the head of the table. “That’s Jack Cole, my son-in-law’s business partner.”

  “Welcome,” the hard-looking Cajun with the badass reputation said before turning his attention back to his computer screen.

  “You remember Deke?” The colonel gestured to a big blond hulk of a man. Everything about him, all the way down to his red-rimmed eyes and sunken cheeks, said he was like the proverbial lion with a thorn in his paw. He might be wounded since his wife was missing, but he’d absolutely kill any motherfucker who got in his way of rescuing Kimber.

  Trees understood that sentiment. Laila was out there…somewhere. She was clever and tenacious but no match for ruthless drug lords and their violence-happy thugs. Worst-case scenarios kept dive-bombing his brain, and he didn’t know how the fuck he’d dig for the patience to give his bosses whatever they needed. All he could think about was finding her.

  “Yeah. Hey,” Trees said to Kimber’s husband.

  The man didn’t acknowledge him, just turned to Caleb. “This is the computer whiz? He looks better suited to the NBA.”

  “I’m not into basketball.” He turned to the colonel. “Just tell me how I can help.”

  “I’m getting to it.” The older man beat feet to another big blond guy, this one with movie-star looks—except for his nose, which had seemingly been broken more than once. “This is Tyler Murphy, former LAPD homicide detective turned PI.”

  “A.k.a. Cockzilla,” quipped a man with long, inky hair on the far side of the room, setting up hot trays of food.

  Holy shit. That was famous TV chef Luc Traverson. How did the colonel know these guys?

  “Stop busting my balls,” Tyler groused.

  “I’m not doing anything to your balls. Unless you want me to roast them.” Luc’s tone was pure teasing…but Trees sensed history here.

  “Pass,” Tyler said, then gave Trees his outstretched hand. “Hey, new guy.”

  “His name is Forest Scott,” Caleb supplied. “One of the best tech guys I’ve ever worked with. Hired him myself.”

  He shook with Tyler. “Call me Trees.”

  “Will do, as long as you don’t call me Cockzilla.” He raised a brow at Traverson.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Trees promised.

  “I’ll bet Delaney still calls you that,” Logan shot Tyler’s way. “How else could you possibly have three boys with another baby on the way so quickly?”

  Tyler laughed. “Need a lecture on the birds and the bees, junior?”

  “Fuck you,” Logan grumbled.

  “Get back to work. We don’t have a minute to spare,” the colonel growled, then made his way down the long table, pausing beside a guy who, though casually dressed, dripped money. When he turned Trees’s way, his gaze looked shrewd as hell. “Sean Mackenzie, former FBI. Thankfully, he still has a lot of contacts.”

  “Good to meet you,” Sean supplied. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

  Than Kimber’s abduction? Yeah, it sucked. But every minute he spent here on these introductions was another minute he wasn’t finding Laila. Or saving her…if she needed to be saved.

  “Same.”

  “And this is Stone Sutter. He’s your counterpart over at Oracle,” Caleb said, referring to the security firm Jack and Deke co-owned.

  Trees had heard of the guy. Ex-con turned straight. The tatted-up operator looked dangerous, a lot more like a thug than a computer nerd, but his smile was friendly. “I’ve heard about you. Good to finally put a face with a name.”

  “For sure.” Since he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, he turned back to the colonel. “Do you need me to work with Stone on something?”

  Caleb sighed. “I wanted to introduce you to everyone since we’re pulling you onto Kimber’s rescue team indefinitely.”

  The words had barely cleared the older man’s mouth before Trees opened his to balk. “With all due respect—”

  “Before you finish that speech, your first order of business will be to retrieve Laila. We think she knows something about Montilla’s whereabouts. Or someone who does.”

  It sounded like they were grasping at straws. Trees scowled. “What makes you think that, sir?”

  “Follow me.”

  Before Caleb could lead him away from the group, the front door opened again. A pair of suits—brothers?—both looking more like hot Latin models than operatives, strolled in. The older one lugged a baby girl in a carrier who sported downy pale hair, shocking hazel eyes, and a frilly pink dress.

  Who the hell were they?

  “We meant to be here earlier,” said the younger one, straightening his tie. “Sorry. Our daughter was a little cranky this morning.”

  The older one snorted. “More like you were cranky that I pulled you out of bed and away from our wife.”

  Their wife?

  Sean Mackenzie laughed. “You know how it is, Javier. There’s always one horny husband. Usually I blame Thorpe whenever we’re late for something since it’s usually his fault. But this morning, it was all me. Since baby Asher slept through the night, I took advantage of a well-rested Callie.”

  Sean shared a wife, too? Apparently so, and the fact they were having this deeply personal conversation in front of everyone told him that was common knowledge.

  The older brother groaned. “Xander did the same with London.”

  “Why not? She’s sleeping better now that Dulce isn’t waking up every three hours. Besides, all our wife’s panting and screaming told me she was perfectly happy with the extra attention.” Xander grinned as he took the carrier.

  Javier gave his brother a sly-dog smile. “Why do you think I sent you to that last-minute meeting yesterday afternoon?”

  “Asshole,” Xander griped.

  Logan stood and scowled. “You dipshits brought a baby to a war room?”

  Xander shrugged. “If she grows up like her daddies, she’ll want to be involved in everything anyway.”

  “She’s not staying. Dulce has a playdate with Lacey. Morgan agreed to watch the girls today,” Javier informed, nodding when Jack Cole smiled at the mention of his wife and daughter. Then Javier glanced across the room at the catering setup. “Ah, glad the food arrived. Xander said none of you has had a good meal in days.”