no-longer-safe house before sunrise, One-Mile had just asked Brea to move in with him. The timing of the mission had sucked. He’d hated leaving her so abruptly, especially right after dumping his daddy bullshit on her with no explanation. But she loved him, and he loved her. Lives had been on the line.
So he’d left and caught a charter flight to St. Louis. By three thirty a.m., he’d been pounding on Valeria’s door. Telling her that the feds had spotted her estranged husband in the area hadn’t gone over well. Insisting the terrified woman pack up her infant son and her sister, along with whatever they could fit in his rented van so they could be gone before sunrise had been met with rants and tears. But she’d done it.
For the next two days, he’d driven two tense women and a fussy baby halfway across the country to this rental in Orlando—and safety. But One-Mile was still on edge.
He hadn’t talked much to Brea in almost a week. He hadn’t been worried at first. He’d been busy as hell until Sunday, and he’d known she spent that day with her dad and the church. But he’d only heard snippets from her on Monday and Tuesday. Yes, she’d locked his house up behind her. No, she wasn’t angry that he’d had to leave. Of course she wanted to talk when he got home.
But there was something she wasn’t saying. Something bothering her. He was itching to get home and address it.
“You haven’t seen any sign of Montilla since you arrived, right?” Hunter asked.
“No.” He’d been in Orlando over seventy-two hours. And he knew damn well they hadn’t been followed. “I think the coast is clear. Do we have any idea where Montilla is now or if he’s figured out his wife has relocated?”
“A few hours after you pulled out of St. Louis, he was spotted less than two miles from her safe house.”
Closer than in previous sightings. But the asshole obviously hadn’t known his estranged wife’s location or he would have already torn the place apart. “But nothing since then?”
“No.”
That gave One-Mile an idea. “Did he come with his entourage?”
“Since this is a personal thing, we think he’s alone. He has been every time he’s been spotted, according to the feds.”
Perfect. “I want to go back to St. Louis and find him.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“No. You need to stay with the client. If we were going to send you after him, we’d have someone watching your back.”
One-Mile scoffed. “You sent me in with Trees last time. Look how well that worked out.”
“Without a heads-up from him, we wouldn’t have known you’d been captured for days.”
“But how do you know he wasn’t the one who set me up? I won’t say his escape was convenient but…”
Hunter didn’t have a comeback for that, which told One-Mile that possibility had crossed his mind.
“Let me try,” he pressed again.
“It’s too risky.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Risk is what we do. Once Montilla figures out that Valeria and his son are gone, he might slink back over the border and it will be a shitload harder to reach him. She will never be safe until that fucker is dead or behind bars. We can make that happen. I can take care of him. Just give me a green light.”
“No. You want revenge, and that’s not your mission. I won’t have you going off on some crusade. You’ll get your ass killed. You’ve barely been cleared to be back at work, and—”
“This is bullshit,” One-Mile growled. “Why leave this son of a bitch on the loose?”
“Because it’s the feds’ responsibility to hunt Montilla and kill him like the animal he is—not yours. And because I said to stay there another few days to make sure Valeria is settled and safe. We were hired to transition her, period.”
“I’ve done that.”
“So finish the fucking job before you haul off on your own agenda.”
One-Mile didn’t like his pile-of-shit reasoning or his attitude.
“When can I come home? I have more doctors’ appointments,” he lied.
“Sunday.”
That gave him four days to catch Montilla. If he succeeded, he’d be taking one more scumbag off his cartel throne and keeping Valeria’s family safe. If he died…well, no one at EM Security Management would care.
But he hated leaving Brea behind.
He’d compartmentalized his concerns, but pacing his ten-by-ten cookie-cutter cage with nothing to do… It was hard not to wonder what was running through her head. Was she upset? Shocked? Or just swamped?
“Before you hang up, I got a