And if it didn’t, they would all be dead.

  When Hunter turned away, Laila grabbed his sleeve. “What about Trees?”

  “I’m not leaving without him, I promise.”

  “Thank you.” His vow made Laila breathe easier, but she had demands of her own. “I am coming with you to make sure.”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

  “Yes. This affects my family, and Trees is my man. You cannot stop me.”

  “If word gets out that we took clients on a mission and one of you dies, our business is over. For good.”

  “Then you are fired as bodyguards and hired to take us to the cartel,” Valeria said.

  “If we refuse?” Hunter raised a brow.

  Laila shrugged. “We could hire others. Or I could act alone.”

  The room fell silent. Everyone knew she wasn’t making empty threats.

  “I am coming, too,” Valeria insisted, shocking Laila. “For too long, my sister shielded me and my son from danger. But we are family.” Valeria took her hand. “Rise or fall, we do it together.”

  “Fuck,” Hunter sighed out. “Please let me talk you out of this. Give me your contacts and I’ll—”

  “No,” Laila insisted. “They know me, and they will speak to me. I do not wish to waste time on a pointless argument. Are we in agreement? Or do I take my contacts and my leverage and find my own way to rescue Trees?”

  Hunter looked to Logan and Joaquin, each of whom gave a grudging nod, then he held out his hand. “Deal. You contact everyone, and I’ll get the men locked and loaded.”

  Laila shook his hand, eager to start finding Trees. “Deal.”

  Mexico

  Twenty hours later, Laila trembled anxiously, her head full of what-ifs, as she waited for Geraldo Montilla to show. She prayed she could hold herself together and keep everyone safe for the next hour. Everything would likely be over by then.

  After that, she would either be in Trees’s arms…or mourning the loss of a man she could never replace in her heart.

  Beside her, Valeria was rattled but holding herself together. Jorge, though listless, was unusually quiet, as if he sensed the tension in the air. Around them, most of EM Security, along with Jack Cole, Deke Trenton, Trevor Forsythe, and Ghost, guarded the abandoned hospital they had chosen as their meet point. Kane and Zy had Victor Ramos, whom EM had captured three hours ago, under wraps nearby. Thankfully, that part of her plan had gone off perfectly.

  It had been poetic justice to watch Victor swagger in, assuming he would take advantage of her foolish belief that he had abducted Trees and trap her. The look on his face when he realized she had duped him instead was priceless. With his minions subdued and his wrists shackled, Laila had relished slapping his face as hard as she could. She’d wanted to do far more, but they needed him alive—for now. She’d contented herself with her stinging palm, the pain a happy reminder that, if all went right, Victor would soon join his brother, Hector, in hell.

  Her elation was dimmed by the fact that Trees’s blue tracking dot had been extinguished shortly before the flight that had taken him out of the country left. It had not flashed on since. She didn’t want to think about the implications of that.

  “Are you ready?” Valeria reached for her hand.

  Laila nodded. “As I will ever be. You know Montilla and his thugs may barge in, guns blazing.”

  “Not with Jorge here. He will never put the boy at risk.”

  Not for the first time, Laila wondered why her sister was so sure of that. Maybe he realized he was surrounded by sharks like Federico and wanted his heir to be family? Perhaps, but would the drug lord still be alive and able to run his business by the time Jorge matured into a man capable of running a massive criminal organization…if he ever did? Then again, Valeria had been proven right when Montilla had snapped at the chance to meet Jorge, along with taking Victor captive, in exchange for Trees’s life.

  Beside Laila, Matt hovered protectively. Someone must have spoken into the comm device in his ear because he stiffened. “Roger that.” Then he cupped her elbow. “Montilla and his entourage are on their way in.”

  “Is Trees with them?”

  Matt paused, then shrugged. “One of their vehicles is a van. That’s all we know.”

  Which could mean anything. Laila tried not to think the worst. But if she could double-cross, maneuver, deceive, and trick people to save Trees, she knew Montilla was capable of doing the same for his own ends. After all, he hadn’t survived nearly three decades as the head of this cartel without being crafty. She had barely lived.

  The realization made her uneasy. She swallowed back a bundle of nerves.

  Minutes ticked by like hours until a couple of armed thugs appeared, glaring menacingly at EM Security, who also dripped weapons. One wrong move or one hot-headed maverick, and they could all be dead. Laila hated that her sister and Jorge were here, but there had been no dissuading Valeria.

  The next man to enter the expansive, dilapidated reception area swaggered in, wearing a white shirt that accentuated his sun-roughened face. He had thick black brows over piercing dark eyes without a soul. He was younger than Laila had imagined and attractive in a sinister way. He was definitely dangerous. She resisted the urge to shudder.

  “That’s Federico,” Valeria murmured just above a whisper.

  Laila made a mental note to give him a wide berth.

  Then an older man filed into the room next, leaning on a cane as if it was more a bother than a necessity. He was average height, average build, dressed like a college professor, minus the tweed jacket, in a crisp dress shirt, a bold blue tie, and a gray vest. He wore a simple wristwatch and had a piercing gaze.

  Geraldo Montilla. He had aged since the last time Laila had seen him, but he still had a commanding air.

  When he set eyes on Valeria, he stopped. Stared. His face changed. Softened? Then he clapped his eyes on Jorge. His stoic expression almost melted into something she couldn’t fathom on a man like him.

  It seemed tender.

  The old man swallowed. “Is that—”

  “Yes,” her sister snapped.

  There was an undercurrent between them she didn’t understand.

  “Can I hold him?” The old man’s voice sounded both shaky and scratchy.

  When Valeria hesitated, Laila shook her head. They had a plan. They needed to stick to it. “Not yet. Where is Trees? I want proof of life.”

  Montilla’s gaze fell on her and his dark eyes turned cold. “There is the bitch who helped steal my car. Why should I let you live?”

  Laila’s fear swelled. Her heartbeat surged. “Because I am also the one who made this meeting with your grandson possible. Now where is Trees?”

  The drug lord sent Valeria a surprised glance, then motioned to one of his thugs. “Bring him.”

  Laila held her breath as the armed man filed out the door, taking another with him. Silence ensued, and time seemed to stretch into infinity as she waited. Finally, the door scraped open again and the armed goons dragged Trees in.

  He was alive! But Laila’s relief was quickly tempered by the sight of him. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth in shock.

  Trees had a black eye nearly swollen shut, a busted lip, and a mottled contusion flaring at his temple. He stumbled in between the two guards, looking exhausted or disoriented. No, drugged. He’d been pumped full of something to keep him contained and he looked barely awake and upright. One shoulder hung awkwardly, as if it had been dislocated. He had cuts and bruises all up his muscled arms. His knuckles were torn and bloody. Somewhere along the way, he’d fought—hard.

  When their eyes met, he suddenly jerked up and scowled. “Laila, you shouldn’t be here.”

  She didn’t argue. He was wrong, but now wasn’t the time.

  Instead, she turned to Hunter. By their previous agreement, he would do the talking from here. After all, Montilla was an old-school chauvinist. He wouldn’t take kindly to negotiating with her or her sister.

  As Hunter approached, Montilla sized him up. “Mr. Edgington, I presume?”

  Hunter nodded. “We’ve brought Victor Ramos. He’s nearby with guards, awaiting my instructions. After you’ve visited with your grandson, we’ll bring him to you. Then we will have fulfilled the terms of our agreement and you will return Mr. Scott.”

  “Of course,” the old man returned smoothly. “I was promised fifteen minutes with Jorge first.” He turned to his armed guards. “Take Mr. Scott to the morgue in the basement until then. He will be unable to escape, and if he tries to shoot me again or Mr. Edgington reneges…well, he will already be in a morgue.”

  Laila stiffened, and she whirled to Hunter. “If we cannot see him, they may continue to torture him.”

  Hunter hesitated, then turned to Montilla. “I’m sending one of mine with one of yours to ensure Mr. Scott’s continued health.”

  The old man shrugged as if he didn’t care, then motioned to one of his thugs, who grabbed Trees by his awkwardly dangling arm and tugged.

  The agony that crossed Trees’s face made everything inside Laila twist with hate and rage.

  Hunter also looked pissed off as he gestured to Matt. “Follow them.”

  The cowboy nodded, and the three of them disappeared down a set of stairs on the far side of the room, into the darkness beyond the handful of portable lights EM Security had rigged for this meeting.

  Then Montilla snapped his fingers. An armed goon produced a folding chair. The drug lord ambled to it and sat, then turned his attention to Valeria, his stare drilling into her. “Bring the boy to me.”

  Her sister held Jorge tighter. “I did not say you could hold him. I said you could meet him.”

  “He is my flesh and blood. I would never hurt him.”

  “Merely kill his mother,” Valeria shot back.

  “I can concede a child this young requires a mother. You will not be harmed. You have my word.”

  “Forgive me if your word means very little to me.”

  Montilla’s expression turned to thunder. “Bring me my son!”

  Laila reared back. His son? The old man wasn’t senile. Had he actually fathered Jorge?

  At her side, Valeria’s spine went even straighter. “After what you did to Emilo, the last person he needs as a father is you.”

  Laila gaped at her sister. Jorge was truly Geraldo’s son?

  “What did I do? I gave Emilo every advantage,” the old man growled. “Ungrateful, inept prick.”

  Valeria scowled. “You indulged and corrupted him. He was a sniveling boy, playing at men’s cartel games. You turned him into a criminal, even as you undermined his every move. You ensured he could not lead without your permission, then you constantly told him that nothing he did was good enough.”

  Fury twisted the old man’s face. “He was not fit to follow in my footsteps. His mother was weak, which she passed on to Emilo and his sister, Clara. Good riddance to them both. They were foolish enough to let their emotions overwhelm them. And they were both stupid enough to let themselves be killed by Pierce Walker. They got what they deserved. But this boy will be different. He belongs to me.”

  Valeria clung to Jorge tighter. “He is mine. I gave birth to him.”

  “I say now he is mine.” Montilla stood, rising to his full height. Suddenly, he looked a lot less injured and a lot more vital. “Once upon a time, you begged me to fuck you. Because you wanted a real man. Because you knew where the power in the cartel truly lay. This boy is my price.”

  Valeria scoffed. “I only fucked you so my sister and I would be protected. I never expected to get pregnant.”

  Laila blinked at her sister. Had she offered herself to Geraldo Montilla to buy their safety?

  Montilla looked amused. “I did. That was my goal. Or will you try to convince me that Jorge is my son’s offspring?”

  “He could be,” Valeria hedged.

  “If that was so, you would not have run from my son in fear when you realized you were pregnant. But you fled because you feared he would be suspicious. And you knew he would have killed you for the truth. So you escaped with Colonel Edgington and his sons, leaving your younger sister without any help, ally, or hope for the future.” He tsked. “Not very sisterly of you.”

  Valeria sent her the briefest glance filled with shame and apology, then she glared at Montilla. “I left so you could not corrupt or abuse my child. The world did not need another Emilo.”

  As much as Laila felt shocked and betrayed by all her sister’s secrets, she couldn’t argue with Valeria’s conclusion. Laila had found ways of coping with life under the thumb of Victor and Hector Ramos in her brother-in-law’s compound. As a baby, Jorge would have been utterly vulnerable.

  Montilla stalked closer to Valeria. “Give me my son.”

  At Hunter’s signal, every operative he’d brought raised their weapon and pointed it at the drug lord. “We are not the police or the DEA. We aren’t here to threaten your business, but you made a simple fucking agreement: fifteen minutes with Jorge and Victor Ramos’s lousy ass in exchange for my operative. You’ve got five seconds to comply or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

  Montilla stared him down, looking simultaneously amused and annoyed. “Do you really believe you can compel me to do anything? For every gun you have trained on me, I have one pointed at each of your men. Would you like to see your brothers die? Mr. Scott in the basement? Everyone else who relies on you for a paycheck? And I assure you, once they are gone, your clients will suffer most. Valeria is young enough to breed again several times if I desire. And Laila will make a more than acceptable whore for my men.”

  Terror clawed through her. After knowing the pleasure of Trees’s touch, she couldn’t imagine enduring sexual violence and abuse again. But how could she stop what seemed like an inevitable slaughter?

  One thing she had learned over her years of captivity was that no one expected her to be a fighter or capable of foiling the plans of dangerous men. She’d use that to her advantage.

  Clandestinely, she looked around the room for some way to hide Jorge and her sister while she reached Trees. She glanced over her shoulder at Hunter Edgington. He had a scheme in mind. She saw it on his face. Laila wished she knew what.

  To Montilla’s right, Federico—who hadn’t said a word during this exchange—assessed the situation. What did he have up his sleeve?

  “I’m serious. You have five seconds to lower your weapons,” Hunter warned the drug lord.

  “Or what?” He scoffed. “You will shoot me? We will return fire. Is that really safe with a child in the room? Did they not teach you Navy SEALs better?”

  “If you’re itching to get it on, let the women and Jorge leave.”

  If Montilla agreed, they would kill everyone, including Trees. And did Hunter really think that, once the drug lord had succeeded, he would allow her and Valeria to take Jorge and walk free?

  She had to contrive some plan—fast.

  The old man smiled. “Your forthright earnestness amuses me.”

  His condescending attitude clearly rubbed Hunter the wrong way. “Five.”

  “Counting, are we? Do you think that will change anything?”

  “Four.”

  Laila watched Logan grip his weapon tighter before he shuffled her behind him. Joaquin did the same with Valeria.

  “Give me the boy, stop this ridiculous counting, and no one has to die.”

  “Three. Drop your weapons and live up to your negotiations or you won’t live until sunrise.”

  “Fuck you.” Montilla charged them.

  Logan blocked his path. Joaquin shoved him back and cocked his gun in the old man’s face. Laila tugged on her sister’s arm, easing her and Jorge back a few covert steps from the fray.

  “No, fuck you,” Hunter spit. “Two, asshole. After one, you’re dead.”

  “You wish.”

  The elder Edgington gestured to his operatives, who went on high alert. “One. Last chance.”

  Federico stepped closer to his boss and murmured in his ear, “Do not back down. We must show these vaqueros and gringos who is in charge.”

  Montilla nodded, raising dark eyes full of contempt at Hunter. “Kill them and take the boy!”

  Laila didn’t waste a second. She pulled on her sister’s arm, using her body to shield Jorge from the hail of gunfire that suddenly erupted around them. As much as she feared for the lives of everyone at EM Security, she had to ensure her family stayed safe and free Trees before it was too late.

  Jorge began wailing. Valeria did her best to cover his mouth so the boy didn’t give away their position as Laila hustled them through the chaos to find someplace safe to hide.

  She headed toward the shadowy corners of the room and spotted an opening that led to a long corridor. At the end, a strip of moonlight filtered under the door. “Run. Find Kane and Zy. Tell them to start driving you far away now.”

  Valeria gripped her hand tightly. “I will not leave you.”

  Laila gave her a shove. “For Jorge, you must. Or he will be raised by a monster.”

  “Come with me,” Valeria entreated. “I left you before. I do not want to do it again.”

  “I am choosing to stay because I need Trees. I do not want to live without him.” When Valeria opened her mouth to argue, Laila shook her head. “No. Stay in the shadows and go!”

  Her sister hesitated, then kissed her cheek. “God be with you. Please be safe.”

  “You, too.”

  “I hope my secret does not make you angry. I love you.”

  Valeria wasn’t one for soft words. Neither was Laila. Life had been too hard on them both. But she also knew life was too short to hold a grudge against her only sister. “I love you, too.”

  Her sister slipped out the door, clutching Jorge. Laila watched until it shut, then eased back to the end of the hall, closer to the ugliness of combat.

  Someone killed the lights. Now only the silvery light of the moon shone through the busted-out windows. Gunfire rang through the cavernous room. Shouts of rage and grunts of pain filled the air as the battle raged.

  If she was going to rescue Trees, Matt would need backup. She must find a gun.