Wicked Ever After (Wicked & Devoted #2) - Shayla Black Page 0,110

nothing—no matter how badly he’d wished otherwise.

“Okay, almost happened,” she whispered. “You’re splitting hairs.”

“I’m being factual.”

But she was right. He’d been close to saying fuck it all and kissing her senseless until she’d lost her clothes.

Tessa sent him a pleading expression. “This job pays better than everything else. I need it.”

As a single mom with an undependable ex, she probably did. And if he hadn’t burned a million bridges and come here to start over, he might not have needed this job so badly, too.

Fuck.

“I know. I just want to talk to you. I won’t…” Touch you, try to seduce you, tell you all the lascivious ways I’m dying to make you scream. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be a gentleman. Please. I just missed your voice.”

Didn’t he sound pathetic?

She sighed like she couldn’t refuse him. Fuck, he wished that was true.

“A-all right.”

“I’ll come around about noon.”

Tessa smiled at him again, this one so real and pure he wanted to lose himself in it. “Looking forward to it.”

“Now, Garrett,” Joaquin Mu?oz growled as he stuck his head around the corner.

“For fuck’s sake…”

“Go,” she encouraged. “Whatever it is seems important.”

It did, and that didn’t bode well for a peaceful Monday.

“If something comes up, I’ll let you know,” Zy promised, then stomped down the hall, hung a left, and barreled into the conference room, trying not to snarl. “I’m here. What’s up?”

None of his bosses spoke. After the rush and hurry, now they were all silent?

Whatever. Zy studied the new guy. Around six foot and built broad with an obvious hard-on for bodybuilding, he had piercing dark eyes, a black mustache, and a watchful mien.

“You met Kane Preston?” Hunter offered.

“Briefly.” While all the shit had been going down with the creepy cult, the deputy had been cleaning up the absent sheriff’s mess.

“Josiah highly recommended him, said he’d done an excellent job the last couple of years in Comfort.”

Kane stuck out his hand. “But I was looking to make a change. Some folks call me Scout. But as long as you don’t call me motherfucker, I’ll probably answer.”

Zy clapped his hand in the other guy’s. “I’m Chase Garrett. Most people around here just call me Zyron.”

“Good to see you.”

“Got everything you need now?” Joaquin asked the former deputy.

“I do,” Kane replied. “I’ll go make myself useful.”

“Perfect,” Logan said to the guy’s wide, retreating back. The minute he’d gone, his boss turned an annoyed gaze his way. “Shut the door. We need to talk.”

Sighing, Zy did, then took his seat in the nearest chair, across the table from Logan. “What’s up?”

“We need to get to the bottom of some shit. Up until now, the only people who knew the location of Valeria Montilla’s new safe house were the three of us and One-Mile. At least until last night.”

Zy froze. Valeria and her sister, Laila, had been through hell. Valeria’s husband, Emilo, was finally dead, but his thugs and that criminal bunch from his splinter offshoot of the cartel had wreaked absolute destruction on those women’s lives.

“What happened?”

“Someone broke into their new digs in Orlando. Valeria was at a concert, thankfully. But Laila stayed behind to babysit her nephew. She and Baby Jorge barely escaped with their lives. We have to relocate them now.”

“You need me to go?” He hated to pack another fucking suitcase, but to save them from being snuffed and slaughtered, he gladly would—no questions asked.

“No. We’re sending Kane and Trees today to bring them back here.”

Hunter jumped in. “A couple months ago, we started working on a plan to relocate Valeria and her family nearby, then shit happened…”

Over the last few months? Yeah, had it ever.

“And you’ve got everything in place now?” Zy asked.

He nodded. “We’ll be watching their new safe house ourselves. But we worry it’s for nothing until you figure out who our fucking mole is. If it’s not Trees, we need you to prove it now.”

He tried to keep a leash on his temper. “I know you all have a boner to blame him, but he isn’t guilty.”

Hunter sent him a cutting glare. “Forgive me if we’re not willing to just take your word about your bestie.”

“I’ve spent two fucking months digging. I’ve seen zero evidence he’s leaked even a drop of urine out of this place, much less critical secrets. Seriously, I took him with me to Comfort so we could isolate him, just like you insisted. We slept in the same bunkhouse. I dug through his phone. Unless he was shitting or showering, I watched him.