Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,104

drug lord’s routine: when he got up, what he liked to eat at each meal, how he conducted business and which room he did it in, and what time he went to bed at night. Hell, he even knew which evenings his mistresses visited. Another day or two, and he’d probably know if the asshole jacked off in the shower.

On Sundays, Aranza attended one of the town’s two Catholic churches. It was a wonder the bastard wasn’t struck down the second he stepped over the threshold.

But most important, he knew how Aranza’s security team operated, and had uncovered a number of vulnerabilities to exploit when the time was right.

With a yawn, Wade leaned back in his black leather office chair and rubbed his tired eyes. Staring at screens for hours on end never failed to make his vision go buggy. He was in the living room of the rental house, which had been converted into the team’s war room. A bank of monitors covered one wall, each showing a black-and-white feed from one of the cameras outside Aranza’s property. Another wall was plastered with pictures of known cartel members, as well as a map of the town and a blueprint of the drug lord’s home.

He fixed his focus on one of the screens, just as a car pulled into the driveway and two men got out, right on schedule. They went inside and a short time later, two different men left the building. It was the same ritual every morning, the changing of the goons. Thirty minutes from now, Aranza would drag his worthless ass out of bed, get dressed, and eat breakfast, the usual warmup to another busy day of pushing poison to the masses.

Wade heard the front door open and close, and he didn’t need to look to know it was Austin, dressed in his usual jeans, T-shirt, and athletic shoes. He still hadn’t shaved, and his beard had grown way past the point of unruly. The guys had started placing bets on whether he’d shave before he flew home, and if he didn’t, how his wife Nina would react to his newfound lumberjack look.

Austin entered the room and set down a large paper bag filled with whatever he’d picked up for breakfast from one of the nearby street vendors. “Are they still on schedule?”

“Yep.” Without looking, Wade dug into the bag, pulled out a tamale, and took a big bite. Chicken and cheese, his favorite, mixed with jalapenos to give it a spicy kick.

After filling a mug with coffee, Austin pulled up a chair and parked his ass. The crease between his eyebrows made it clear there was something on his mind, but he didn’t say a word.

“You might as well spit it out.”

Austin frowned. “Something doesn’t feel right. Could this be another trap?”

Paranoid person that he was, Wade had already considered the possibility. But none of the chatter on the street indicated the drug lord was aware of their presence, and Larissa had yet to find anything suspicious in the communications she’d intercepted. To the contrary, Aranza was planning to leave soon in order to address the growing threats to his empire, which meant the streets of Guadalajara would soon be red with cartel blood.

It also meant they needed to act soon, before their window of opportunity slammed shut.

Wade ate another bite of tamale. “None of the intelligence points to a setup. With Hector gone, the probability’s a lot lower.”

The assurance did nothing to lessen the trouble in Austin’s eyes. No surprise there. As the head of Six Points Security and the oldest sibling in the Flint family, it was in his nature to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. “We need to talk. About Hope.”

Every muscle in Wade’s body tensed as protective instincts shot to the surface. Unable to keep the warning from his voice, he asked, “What about her?”

Austin glanced down the hall as if to make sure Hope wasn’t within earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I like her just fine. It’s just…well…you know…” He made a vague gesture with his hands. “Now that you’re involved, it complicates things.”

With a bit of effort, Wade forced his teeth to unclench. “A few weeks ago, you encouraged me to get involved with her.”

“You’re right; I did, and it’s been a good thing.” Austin rubbed one hand along his thick, bushy beard. “She put life back in your eyes. I’m grateful for that.”

“Then what’s the problem? Are you worried she’s going to pull