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.”

  “I’ll take care of everyone,” Luc promised. “I would have done it sooner if Cousin Deke had called me…”

  Kimber’s husband scowled like food was the last thing on his mind, so the colonel filled the dead air. “Thank you for feeding us.”

  Trees wondered how much would actually get eaten by this highly stressed crowd.

  “You’re welcome. We’ll be back to see how else we can help after we drop Dulce off and have a fun-filled meeting with the Joint Chiefs. The work of a military contractor is never done,” Xander bantered. “The offer of a plane stands, by the way. We’re more than happy to lend our jet to the cause if you need it.”

  With that, Trees realized exactly who these two were.

  Caleb nodded the brothers’ way. “We might need to take you up on that.”

  Did that mean he’d be bugging out to find Laila shortly? Trees hoped so, but the colonel didn’t elaborate.

  After the brothers waved and headed out the door, Caleb turned to him. “That was Javier and Xander—”

  “Santiago. S.I. Industries, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Trees knew of the military contractors. Nearly everyone in this line of work did. After some recent bumps in their corporate road, they had rectified their problems and were now on their way to being the best out there. And they were wealthy as fuck. “How do you know them?”

  “Logan and Xander have been friends forever.”

  That explained how his bosses had gotten their hands on some awesome toys security companies usually couldn’t. It helped to have friends in high places. But that wasn’t Trees’s first concern. “Am I taking a trip on their jet to find Laila?”

  “Possibly. Follow me.”

  Trees trailed the colonel down a hallway before ducking into the lone office filled with an old iron desk and a fuck-ton of surveillance equipment. In the room’s only chair, Joaquin sat, furiously scanning a screen. Whatever he’d been watching ended. The guy sighed and plucked out a pair of earbuds, sat back, then gave the two of them his attention.

  “If none of us know, why would he?” Muñoz pointed a thumb in his direction.

  “He’s talked to Laila more than anyone else. Maybe she told him something…”

  Joaquin shrugged and stood. “Unlikely, but worth a shot. That’s why you brought him here?”

  “Yeah. Set up the clip again,” Caleb insisted of his stepson, then turned to him. “Sit.”

  As Trees settled in the office chair and fixed his gaze on the blank computer screen, the door to the office burst open. A guy he’d seen around EM’s office, One-Mile Walker’s buddy Matt Montgomery, burst in. “There’s a new development to all this. A couple of them, actually. If you want to come see…”

  Joaquin dashed out immediately. The colonel looked torn, then finally sighed. “We just got our hands on this footage. It happened less than two hours ago. Barring whatever new developments Matt has, this is all we know. Maybe you can fill in some blanks, mostly why.”

  Whatever it was didn’t sound good. Apprehension gripped Trees. Had something happened to Laila? The colonel was gone before he could ask, and Trees figured it was better this way. Whatever was on this video—which must have something to do with the woman he loved—he wanted to see it alone.

  As if the earbuds were a snake, he reached for them carefully, blowing out a breath and bracing himself. It was possible she was being harmed. Tortured or raped. Frowning, he shoved the buds in his ears, started the video, and gripped the computer, every muscle in his body taut.

  Montilla’s classic fifty-million-dollar Ferrari, parked in a garage, immediately filled the screen. If Laila had something to do with this vehicle, did that mean the drug lord had taken her? Though Trees had known that was possible, it still filled him with a whole pile of oh, fuck. But he refused to lose his shit—or his hope. No matter what it took, he would save Laila. Because in the last twenty-four hours he’d come to one conclusion: she might have walked out of his house without a fight, but that didn’t mean she had actually been willing. If she had been, why had she taken a pair of his guns? She would do anything for her family, and almost everyone knew it.

  Ten more seconds of footage later, the garage door opened to reveal night. The light inside the garage flashed on. A pair of armed men walked in, one a scruffy punk with dirty blond hair and a chin-pube beard, the other a beefy black dude in a wifebeater. He scowled. Who the hell were they?

  A moment later, Laila entered the garage behind them. No, she swayed, swinging her hips in those goddamn short denim shorts that somehow looked even shorter. Her tank covered less skin than he remembered, and she wasn’t wearing a goddamn bra. What she was doing? Flirting her ass off.

  What the actual fuck?

  “Que carro más lindo,” she said, all but feeling up her tits to draw attention to them.

  The dirty blond guy certainly stared there—and seemed to get lost. “Huh?”

  “What a beautiful car,” she translated as she sashayed closer to him. “The more I look at it, the more I become”—she licked her lips, then bit the bottom one provocatively—“wet. Who will help me with that?”

  She was inviting them to touch her? To fuck her? Why?

  But he knew the answer. She was manipulating them. It was the same reason she’d awakened him once upon a time with her mouth around his dick. Because her life was in danger? Because she’d been threatened? Or was there something else going on here?

  “I will.” The slouchy delinquent was embarrassingly eager.

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

  Laila laid her fingers on the guy’s wifebeater and flashed him an inviting smile. Then she did the same to the blond man. “I am feeling…adventurous. There is enough of me to go around.”

  She couldn’t be fucking serious. She was dangling her body in front of them and blinding them with lust for a reason, right?

  The exact reason she did the same to you?

  The punk’s eyes bugged out. “You think you can take us both?”

  “I want to try.” She ran her graceful fingers along the side of Montilla’s car, caressing it like a lover. Then she bent over the hood and stuck her ass in the air, wriggling suggestively. “I think I would like it.”

  “Hmm, baby.” The big one sidled up behind her, gripped her hips, and began dry-humping her backside.

  Then Trees saw it. Laila grimaced before she blanked her expression.

  “Not here, dude.” The blond guy bobbed his pale head up to the corner of the garage.

  Her stare followed the gesture, and she blanched when she caught sight of the cameras. Yeah, she was worried. No, afraid. What the hell was going on?

  The guy in the wifebeater stepped back and seized her arm. “He’s right. Damn it.”

  Laila turned to nuzzle her face in the man’s neck. Then she repeated the gesture with the puny putz. Ruse or not, she was laying it on thick, and it was goddamn hard to watch.

  “Let us go to the guard shack, then,” she murmured. “I am impatient.”

  To get tag-teamed by these two losers? They seemed to think so, but Trees wasn’t buying it. Or maybe he didn’t want to. But he’d seen her face in passion. This was all bullshit.

  For what cause?

  “Good call. Follow me.” The big one dragged Laila out of the garage.

  When the two of them disappeared, the scrawny one tried to grow a brain. “Wait! We’re not supposed to leave the garage open. Anyone could come in and steal the car.”

  “Who do you think is around to do that?” the other guy asked off camera.

  After some arguing back and forth, the blond guy finally caved and stomped after them, leaving the garage door open.

  Thirty seconds later, the light in the garage clicked off. Must be on a motion sensor, he thought vaguely. But what really worried the hell out of him was Laila. What was she doing during this timeframe, fucking frick and frack in the guard shack?

  Why?

  Not ten seconds later, another man sneaked into the garage. The light flashed on again, and he tried skulking in the shadows, but he was wearing the same clothes, right down to the ski mask, as the asshole who had taken Laila.

  Trees’s heart rate surged as he watched the man slink around the garage, find the keys to the car hanging on a hook at the back, then slide into the classic automobile. The engine turned over with a purr, and since someone had clearly backed the car in, the stranger in the ski mask merely had to ease it out.

  The timing was too coincidental for Laila’s “seduction” not to be premeditated. She had cooperated with the man who’d taken her from his house to steal Montilla’s coveted car. For money? For revenge? Nothing made sense.

  Suddenly, the man ripped off his ski mask. From the back, Trees saw only the man’s shoulders and his dark head. Who the fuck was this guy? Why had he taken Laila and coerced her into this mess?

  Just as the driver was exiting the garage, he stopped abruptly and stroked the dashboard. “Get in. Montilla is going to miss the hell out of this car. Too bad for that fucking bastard.”

  “Go!” That was Laila. She sounded panicked. “I will meet you by the rental truck in five minutes.”

  The man merely nodded, offering no argument at all. What the fuck? Was she his captive…or his partner in crime?

  As the sounds of frantic footfalls faded away, the guy behind the wheel turned to watch her go. Trees glimpsed the bastard’s profile. His blood went cold.

  Victor fucking Ramos.

  That changed everything.

  The bastard disappeared from his view and the clip ended.

  Trees ripped the buds from his ears. Since her family was safe, the asswipe must be holding something over Laila’s head.

  Trees stood, determined to get to her. Laila had been in Florida a couple of hours ago. That was a place to start. With or without his bosses’ consent, he was going.

  Halfway down the hall, Matt met him, adjusting the cowboy hat he always wore. “You done watching the video?”

  “Yeah.” He tried to sidestep the guy and reach the colonel.

  Matt stepped in his path again. “They’re busy working other angles of Kimber’s whereabouts, so you and I will be following the lead from that video. What are you thinking?”

  “That we need to get the fuck to Florida, and that every second I waste explaining myself is another second this bastard has to use Laila before he hurts her—”

  “Why would he do that when she helped him? She’s obviously in on it.”

  “Laila would never voluntarily help that asshole.”

  “You know who he is?” That clearly surprised Matt.

  “Victor Ramos.”

  “We figured out that he was an ‘associate’ of Emilo Montilla, like we guessed he and Laila had met in her brother-in-law’s compound. What we couldn’t figure out was why they would steal Geraldo Montilla’s car.”

  Valid question, but not the one Trees wanted answered most.

  “I need to get on the fucking road now. If you want to hear what I think, follow me while I walk, but I’m not standing around jawing about this when Laila is in danger.” He stalked down the hall.

  “Don’t you get it?” Matt asked in small words, as if he thought Trees was too slow to grasp the situation. “Laila was an accomplice to that theft and—”