Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,101
a reason to put their automatic weapons to use.
“Want me to make another pass?” Austin asked as they turned the corner.
Wade met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “No, that’s enough for today.”
Another trip down the block might arouse suspicion. He’d come too far and lost too much to let his impatience get the better of him now. Tonight, they’d get some much-needed rest and come tomorrow, they’d start fresh on a plan to take the fucker down.
A short drive later, they pulled into the driveway of the home Larissa had reserved for the team to use as a base of operations. The five-bedroom, four-bathroom house located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in Guadalajara, it came complete with high-speed internet, a humongous kitchen, and a top-notch security system that rivaled the ones Six Points Security used for their clients.
Jackson opened the refrigerator door and nodded with appreciation. “Fully stocked; I’m impressed.”
Leave it to Larissa to make sure the house was loaded with enough food to feed a small army. All of the basics were present and accounted for, as well as those protein bars Austin loved, and Jackson and Navarre’s favorite brand of beer. She even got the mint cookies Wade loved as a kid, and seeing the box in the pantry made him smile.
“If I remember correctly, it’s my turn to cook.” Hope set her medical bag on one of the dining room chairs. Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair a little mussed, and Wade jammed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to touch her.
“I’ll take care of it tonight.” Jackson reached into the fridge and took out a package of cube steak. “How does chicken-fried steak with biscuits and gravy sound?”
Navarre’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Fucking awesome. I’ll make the cobbler.”
As the guys got busy in the kitchen, Wade glanced down at his watch. “How long do you think it’ll be before dinner’s ready?”
“About an hour or so. Why?”
“There’s a guy I want to talk to, an old contact who owes me a couple of favors. If I leave now, I might be able to catch him before he cuts out for the night.”
“I’ll go with you.” Austin pulled his keys from his pocket.
Wade’s first instinct was to turn down the offer, but in reality it wouldn’t hurt to have backup, especially considering where he was going and who he intended to talk to. If Austin was willing, who was he to argue? He jerked his head to the right. “All right, let’s go.”
Thanks to years of working undercover, Wade knew the streets of Guadalajara better than the back of his hand. He’d spent most of his time in the seedy areas, cultivating leads and developing relationships with informants. On the streets, things changed on a daily basis, and Wade hoped his contact would still be around—and be willing to settle a debt.
As they drove, the scenery gradually changed, until they turned in to one of the neighborhoods that most tourists stayed the hell away from. Halfway down the block, he spotted the business he was looking for and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Open sign lit behind the bars of the front window.
“This is it. Pull over.”
Austin’s dark eyebrows drew together as he parked at the curb. “A pawnshop?”
“It’s a mostly cash business, perfect for money laundering.” As he strode inside, Wade slapped on his game face, adding some extra don’t-fuck-with-me to his expression.
The place was small and brightly lit, with security cameras visible amid the rows of merchandise. To the right, a row of glass cases displayed an assortment of jewelry and high-end electronics. Not a customer in sight, but Wade was willing to bet that at the end of the day, there’d be a big wad of cash in the register, the result of fictional sales.
A young brunette—early twenties, at the most—wearing a tight, pink blouse and frayed denim shorts sat on a stool behind the counter with the register, chewing gum as she screwed with her phone. Her gaze flicked up at the sound of the door chime, a bored expression on her face. The fact she didn’t react to the sight of a pissed-off gringo with a scar on his face indicated she was accustomed to dealing with an unsavory class of people. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Chato.”
She cocked her head, her dark ponytail swinging. “Who?”