home, find a flight, pack a bag… She had a million things to do.
“Hey,” Zy called after her. “I’ll give you a ride to the airport.”
It was so tempting to say yes. To have his steadying presence by her side until she boarded the plane to take her to the uncertainty that awaited her in Tennessee. But Zy would have to come to the house. Cash would see him. And it would get ugly.
“Thanks, but…I’m sure Cash will take me.”
He turned to stone as if her words assaulted him. “Of course. Hope your dad is all right. Let us know if you need anything.”
She nodded. “For what it’s worth, thank you for offering.”
“Sure. Bye.”
“Bye.” Her whisper sounded about ten seconds long. She was desperate to make her moments with Zy last because she felt so safe with him. Because when she was with him, she somehow believed her world would be okay. Because she never worried he wasn’t strong enough to share her problems.
Because deep down she knew Cash could never be that man.
That thought haunted her as she and Hallie climbed onto an airplane a few hours later, jetting to uncertainty and potential heartbreak.
Thursday, September 11
Guerrero, Mexico
Zy sat in the back of the run-down white catering van, emblazoned on both sides with a sombrero-wearing chihuahua, dancing next to a blue margarita. If the food was as shitty as their art—and their shock absorbers—he was glad he’d eaten elsewhere. But Joaquin had arrived in Mexico the day before the rest of the EM team to make arrangements. And he had to give the quietest of his bosses credit. No one looking at this vehicle bouncing down the uneven road would think five armed-to-the-teeth operatives sat in back. They’d just see what seemed like a silver-haired man driving with the sunset in his rearview mirror, going who knew where.
“We should be there in about ten,” Hunter said, leaning against the back doors. “I need to be honest. The information we have is both secondhand and through a translator.”
That didn’t fill Zy with confidence. But nothing about this mission did. Whenever they came to Mexico, everything turned to shit. This time, the crap had started before they’d even left the States. Tessa had been gone for three days without a word. Countless times, he’d reached for his phone to call, text…something. But she had Cash, and he’d just be in the way.
A few hours after she flew out, the bosses had told them all to go home, get a full night’s sleep, and be prepared to bug out in the next few days. Since no one had left the office all weekend, and they’d been existing on takeout and catnaps, they’d all been ready for a shower and a horizontal eight. Trees, being Trees, had stopped for gas at a fucking truck stop…and somehow been tempted by their sushi. The following morning, he’d called Zy from the hospital—shocker—where he’d spent all of Tuesday and most of Wednesday, only being discharged a few hours before their departure.
Leave it to his buddy to fully live by the motto what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Problem was, Trees tested that a lot.
Thanks to his adventures in cuisine, Trees had been too disconnected from the plan to help out and way too weak to join in, so they’d left him behind.
As far as Zy could tell, the team wasn’t off to a good start. So Hunter admitting the information was sketchier than he’d led them to believe was just another problem they didn’t need.
From the front seat, the colonel glanced over his shoulder, keeping one eye on the empty road. “A few days ago, I got a call from Emilo’s estranged wife, Valeria. We rescued her from her husband a little over eighteen months ago, but she had to leave behind her mother and her sister. Her mother had been sick. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it. But her sister, Laila, somehow got her hands on a phone and started sending encoded messages through a game app to Valeria that included their location and the fact Emilo has One-Mile, who, as of this morning, was still alive. I was expecting more communication this afternoon so we could finish working out the details, but Valeria didn’t hear from her sister.”
“So you’re saying there’s a higher-than-normal chance this goes to shit?” Josiah piped up, dressed like the rest of them in head-to-toe desert camo, weapons, and bad attitude.
“Yep.” Logan never pulled his punches.
Son of a bitch.
“So what do