Fuck. He was a dead man.

  As the thought zipped through his brain, another shot resounded. The gunman jerked and stumbled back. Blood splattered as he fell off the roof and plummeted to the ground, dead.

  Who the fuck had killed him?

  Trees didn’t waste time figuring it out. He jumped to the final roof. The rest of the guards swarmed in his direction, but the path between the hacienda and the open desert was clear. Moonlight dipped back behind the clouds, giving him some cover. He just might make it…

  He leapt to the ground beside the body. Zy appeared out of the shadows and pressed a finger to his lips. Trees was grateful but not surprised that his buddy had bailed him out. He and Zy had kept each other alive in more than one awful scrape.

  Zy tipped his head toward what looked like a garage around fifty yards in the distance, then disappeared behind some brush. Trees followed. They looped around the far side of the building, easing away from additional guards now coming in from the east corner of the estate. Pounding footsteps and heated shouts told Trees the guards had lost their trail.

  Less than two minutes later, they approached the garage and Zy spoke into his comm. “We’re coming in hot.”

  To his shock, no one was guarding the building. It wasn’t even locked.

  Zy rushed in, weapon drawn. But Hunter and Logan had already dispensed with a quartet of guards inside and now sat behind the wheel of a souped-up Jeep—with a mounted fifty cal on the back.

  It was a sweet fucking sight.

  Hunter turned the engine over, and Zy pressed the button on the wall to open the garage door. The second the vehicle was clear, the elder Edgington floored it. Zy got behind the gun, blasting away anyone who gave chase. Then the desert swallowed them up and they headed straight to the meet point—and safety.

  But Laila was still out there…somewhere, probably hunkering down with Victor. Warming his bed. Sucking his cock. Giving him her body. Trees wasn’t resting until he had her back.

  Chapter Six

  February 17

  Lafayette, Louisiana

  Trees paced his living room with restless energy. Barney watched from the sofa with confusion. And he probably wanted more food, since he was a typical dog.

  It had been ten long, fucking empty days since he’d returned from Mexico. Deke and Kimber were together with their children again. The family remained in hiding until they got some solid intel about whether Montilla had died by his gun.

  The colonel had come to visit him at the office more than once to express his gratitude. So had Jack Cole, who co-owned Oracle with Deke. The crafty Cajun had jokingly offered him a job, then insisted he wouldn’t dream of poaching from Hunter, Logan, and Joaquin. But he hadn’t sounded like he was kidding at all.

  Trees wasn’t interested in jumping ship.

  One-Mile and Brea had tied the knot in a small ceremony this past weekend. Trees hadn’t attended. Pictures had been nice, but he hadn’t felt like he could watch two people in love tie their lives together without snarling. Apparently, he’d been surly since their return from Mexico and his inability to find Laila had dragged on. Go figure.

  Zy and Tessa had moved in together. They were planning a wedding, too. Trees was thrilled for his buddy. Those two had endured a long, hard road to their happily ever after. They were great people with big hearts who deserved happiness. Which was exactly why the same would never happen for him.

  Besides, he still hadn’t seen or heard a single peep out of Laila since he’d left Mexico. Every attempt to trace her had come up empty. Victor Ramos was missing, too, so that fit. They’d holed up together somewhere, fucking their brains out. As much as Trees told himself that he didn’t miss Laila, he’d give anything to be the lucky guy between her legs.

  After he found out how and why she’d played him and he paid her back.

  Since returning from Mexico, he’d been on a couple of short missions, bodyguarded a TV personality’s son during his drunken Mardi Gras weekend, and spent the rest of the time preparing for the moment he got his hands on his pretty backstabbing Latina.

  Madison had called more than once. He hadn’t responded with more than a vague text to say he was drowning in work and would call when he could. He wasn’t fit to keep someone so kind and well-meaning company.

  He glanced at the clock. Almost ten. He couldn’t take another fucking sleepless night, burning for Laila as much as he seethed to shake her and fuck her so bad he could almost taste it. He didn’t want to dream about her again. He didn’t want to fixate on her anymore. All the polite ways of locating her weren’t working.

  Now he was going to get ruthless.

  Grabbing his gear and his keys, Trees gave Barney a pet on the head, set the house alarm he’d had painstakingly rebuilt once the plate glass window in his living room had been replaced, then hopped into his Hummer and headed to Lafayette.

  When he arrived at Zy’s apartment complex, he buzzed himself through the gate, using the guest code his buddy had given him. But he didn’t stop in front of Zy’s unit. Instead, he rolled two buildings down and parked, then made his way to the second floor, stopping in front of the door of Valeria’s safe house.

  Trees weighed the possibility that Kane would let him in to see Laila’s sister. Since everyone, especially the bosses, had refused to let him even speak to her on the phone, he figured his odds sucked. He’d been nothing short of a growling son of a bitch for the past week and a half. With every day that passed, his temper only got shorter, his mood snarlier. On the one hand, he understood their point. His personal shit wasn’t their client’s problem. On the other hand, Laila clearly thought they were done.

  She was fucking wrong.

  He crept up the stairs to the second-floor apartment and hopped onto the railing. Six feet away was a little balcony that led to the main bedroom. He knew the schematic of the unit; he’d looked it up online. He’d also bet that Kane was bunking down on the sofa or in the unit’s tiny office. The bedroom would be Valeria’s.

  Trees used the railing as a springboard and leapt to the balcony. He caught it with his hands, cursing under his breath. The wood needed a good sanding. Then he hoisted himself up and over.

  Once on his feet, the balcony groaned in protest. Yeah, it probably wasn’t used to anyone hanging out here in the shitty Louisiana humidity, especially someone his size. But with any luck, he wouldn’t be stuck outside for long.

  He yanked his multitool from his pocket. The lock was a little more difficult than expected. Someone had probably replaced it recently. But a few minutes and a handful of curses later, he peeked in, glimpsing Valeria dressed in black yoga pants and an overlarge T-shirt, leaning over a playpen, patting her son’s back.

  As he pushed the door open wide, it squeaked. She whirled around, her eyes widening when she caught sight of him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You know exactly why I’ve come. I want to see your sister.”

  “She does not want to see you.” Valeria crossed her arms as if that was the end of the conversation.

  Wrong.

  “So you’ve talked to her?”

  The woman didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Trees knew. That meant Laila was alive and well. The relief that filled him pissed him off. He shouldn’t give a shit; she’d tossed her lot in with Victor Ramos, who had never wanted to love, honor, and cherish Laila for the rest of her life.

  He was even more pissed that she was still able to communicate…and had simply chosen not to contact him.

  Too bad. They were going to talk, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth to find her.

  First, he had to get through her protective older sister.

  “We have unfinished business,” he said.

  Valeria sniffed. “You merely want to get her into bed, as you always did. From the first moment you saw her, I knew. It was all over your face.”

  Trees didn’t bother denying the truth, merely opted for another tactic. “Aren’t you worried about her cozied up with Victor Ramos? He’s hardly a nice man.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “The difference is, I would never hurt her.” Maybe make her beg for orgasm until she screamed her throat raw, then withhold pleasure for the evil thrill of watching her twist and writhe for him, sure. But he would never truly hurt her.

  Trees sensed Valeria thinking and pressed his point home. “She’s your little sister, and she’s playing with big criminals, warming the bed of a cartel bigwig. Aren’t you fucking worried about her? About what Victor will do if he decides he’s done using her?”

  The small brunette crossed her arms over her chest, lifted her cleft chin, and paced to the other side of the room, licking her lips nervously.

  Like Laila, Valeria was his “type.” Little thing with curves and attitude. But he wasn’t remotely attracted to the woman. There was something about her that seemed hard, her exterior shell almost impenetrable. He didn’t sense any hint of vulnerability, the way he had in Laila. He didn’t see pain or uncertainty in her eyes.

  Instead, she sized him up and measured his worth.

  “She is…no longer with Victor. She has not been for over a week.”

  That shocked Trees to the core. He hadn’t expected Valeria to answer, much less to tell him anything useful.

  “Because?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  Valeria shrugged. “What do you want with my sister?”

  Trees got the distinct impression Valeria would smell bullshit. “She owes me answers.”

  “Do you deny that you want her in your bed again?”

  So Laila had told her sister they’d had sex? “No.”

  The little boy in the playpen grunted and rolled over. The single mother glanced her son’s way, watching until he settled again. It was the only hint Trees had that Valeria had feelings at all.

  Finally, she faced him. “I overheard Zyron and Kane talking. Your friend seems to think my sister broke your heart.”

  Fuck.

  But her obvious bullshit meter, along with her arched brow, warned him not to be dishonest. “She did.”

  “Do you still have feelings for her?”

  Jesus, she wanted him to open his chest so she could inspect all the cuts her sister left? “Would I be here if I didn’t give a shit?”

  Valeria shrugged. “Revenge is a powerful motive.”

  It was, and he wanted it. But he couldn’t deny that some part of him wanted to make sure Laila was whole and safe—wanted to see it with his own two eyes—and protect her from the violent drug lords she continued to foolishly bait and taunt. “If you’re asking whether I’m in love with your sister, I am. But if you tell her that, I’ll deny it with my last breath.”

  Valeria was quiet another long moment. “All right. I will keep your secret and I will tell you where to find her, if you promise me that you will stop her from playing dangerous games with the cutthroats of Tierra Caliente.”

  There was nothing he wanted more. “Done. You call my bosses and demand that I retrieve her, and I’ll have Laila back in twenty-four hours.”

  Mexico

  Dawn painted the beach ethereal shades of pink, orange, and yellow. The water lapped at her toes. The coming Mexican spring had warmed the surf a bit since she’d arrived, but it still felt too cold.

  Like her heart.

  Day eleven without Trees. She still couldn’t decide what to do. Everything inside her wanted to rush back to him and throw herself into his arms, confess the video had been a lie, admit her feelings, and pray he forgave her. But that was impossible. She’d burned that bridge. Now she could only move forward.

  After she’d fled Victor’s seedy motel room, told Valeria where to find Kimber, and sent that awful email to protect Trees, Laila had used some of Victor’s cash to purchase a vehicle from a farmer outside the nearest village and left his truck behind. From there, she’d retrieved her things, including Trees’s guns, from the abandoned villa near La Pesca and driven nearly a hundred miles south to Tampico.

  As soon as she’d arrived, she braided her hair, shoved it under a cap she’d purchased at a seaside tourist shop, then rented a condo on the water from a woman and her sister with friendly smiles. Not that she trusted them. She didn’t trust anyone who hadn’t proven themselves. Thankfully, the sisters had allowed her to pay cash and hadn’t asked questions.

  From the moment she’d arrived, she had done her best to disappear into the city. So far, it had worked. She felt more invisible than safe. But maybe that was the best she could hope for.

  Being here, surrounded by people yet removed from them, had given her time to think—mostly about Trees. But she hadn’t managed to make any decisions.

  Nor had Victor reared his head again. She still had his phone. She’d powered it down to preserve the battery, but in case she needed it or his contacts, she’d hung on to the device. But his uncharacteristic silence had her hoping that Montilla’s men had picked him up and ended his miserable existence.

  The few times she’d powered up Victor’s mobile, she had poked around his messages and social media for information about his whereabouts or his plans. She’d only found rumors that Geraldo Montilla had been gravely injured when some Americans had broken into his hacienda and rescued the woman they’d been keeping captive.

  So Kimber was free. Laila could feel good about that, at least. Everything else? Wretched. She’d abandoned her sister, though Valeria was seemingly safe with Kane Preston. She’d left Victor to die, though he deserved it. But she felt beyond guilty about Trees. He had done nothing but try to protect her and love her, and she had hurt him in the cruelest way possible. Yes, for his safety, but her reason wouldn’t matter to him. He’d surely written her off as a mercenary whore. He would never absolve her of her sins. Laila doubted she would ever absolve herself, either.

  Gulls cried overhead. The smell of salt filled her nose. It was peaceful in the early hours. Soon, locals would flock here with their significant others or jog with their pets. Then families would show up with sunscreen and beach towels to bask in the golden rays. But right now, she felt like the only person in this corner of the world. She could be alone with her thoughts, her regrets. That should have brought her some level of peace.

  It didn’t.

  What was Trees doing now? Oddly, when she had called her sister a few minutes ago, Valeria had been oddly reserved, almost oblique. Laila didn’t know what to make of that. When she’d asked about Trees, Valeria claimed she knew nothing but warned that she likely hadn’t seen the last of him. When Laila asked why her sister believed that, Valeria had dodged the question, claiming Jorge needed her before she hung up. Laila had been walking the beach since.

  What would she say if she ever saw Trees again? What would she do? The truth was, until she knew Victor was dead, any communication would put him at risk. And given all the years that cabrón had tyrannized her life, Laila couldn’t just blink or wave her magic wand to make her nemesis disappear. And if Montilla was actually at death’s door, did that mean Victor had slipped through the kingpin’s fingers? Or had Montilla exercised his version of justice on Victor before being felled by a bullet?

  Despite continuing to look through every message and connection on Victor’s phone, she hadn’t seen an update in over a week.

  What did that mean?

  On a nearby balcony, a dog barked. A couple jogged by, obviously on vacation and enjoying the Mexican sun. Someone behind her opened their window. A car horn blared in the distance. The world was waking up. Laila wished she could just tune all of it, along with her reality, out. But she needed to make some decisions, then take her next steps.

  She didn’t dare return to Louisiana. She would endanger her family, and she would be too tempted to see Trees. But she couldn’t stay here much longer. In fact, fleeing Mexico altogether would be wise. If she didn’t, someone would eventually find her. It was a matter of time.

  Laila pulled the ball cap lower, adjusted her overlarge sunglasses, and headed back to her rental. Her stomach turned. No surprise. She’d barely eaten in days, but the thought of food held no appeal. Maybe she would go back to bed. After all, she felt exhausted. Who wouldn’t, though, after almost no sleep?

  Was this what a broken heart felt like?

  Shaking off the maudlin thought, she eased through her sliding glass door, back into her unit. Then she locked up and drew the drapes. When she whirled around, nothing was out of place, but the air felt…disturbed, as if someone had been here. She smelled something that didn’t belong here. No, someone. A man.

  She smelled Trees.

  That wasn’t possible. Her imagination must be in overdrive. She’d missed him so much that her psyche had dreamed up his scent. Or maybe she was finally losing her mind.

  Laila checked the lock on the front door, just to be sure no one had breached her unit, but it was secure. Then she sighed, divesting herself of her hat and glasses. She left both on the breakfast bar before ambling to the kitchen. Listlessly, she opened the refrigerator, then closed it again before making her way to the sink to wash her mug after pouring out the coffee she hadn’t felt like drinking. But once she set down the sponge, she bowed her head. Tears fell. God, she’d been crying for days.

  Yes, this must be what a broken heart felt like.

  She didn’t have time. She didn’t have the luxury, either. Not until everyone she loved was safe.

  Today was another day. She prayed it would finally provide the information she needed to move on.

  Laila prowled back to the sliding glass door, kicked off her flip-flops in preparation for her next walk on the beach, probably at sunset, then pulled off the tank top and shorts she’d been wearing the past few days, which she’d retrieved from the villa. They were the same clothes she’d worn when she’d been with Trees, the ones that had made him look at her with lust and lose his train of thought. Having them against her skin had both made her feel closer to him and tortured her with his absence. But she was being foolish. He would never be hers again.