inside the compound, they used the process of elimination to isolate Guerrero’s cell phone and had followed him and his men to Guadalajara, to the estate of another drug kingpin in the organization. Odds were that if the target was still alive, Guerrero would be close by. It was the best they could do without knowing more.

Hank’s team had been fed coordinates through a handler, a man who monitored the transmission via satellite. Until now, they had stuck close to the target, moving as ordered. But with the target being in danger, and the burst transmitter potentially compromised, Hank knew the handler would have to kick the problem to the next level, the decision maker who was running the op.

Hank reached for the encrypted phone he’d use to communicate with his handler, a middleman in the operation. Although Hank was in command of the ground team, he didn’t know who they were tracking inside the drug cartel or why the mission had required the secrecy. That bit of intel was on a need-to-know basis. Only one man knew all the details and would make the final call on every aspect of the mission. Communicating through the handler, he would direct Hank’s team to carry out his orders.

But if the burst transmitter’s signal was gone, they were flying blind. And the poor bastard on the inside would be on his own.

“Damn it,” Hank cursed.

Chapter 4

New York City

Evening

Instinct had Alexa fixing her eyes on the reflection in a store window as she walked down Broadway. Display lights and neon signs cast enough light for her to see something she didn’t like. She’d stopped suddenly, pretending to have an interest in a pair of Jimmy Choo stilettos.

That was when she caught the exchange.

A man had stopped short and looked across the street. Two men were following her, one in a dark business suit and the other in jeans, a Yankees ball cap, and a white T-shirt with a logo across his chest, too small for her to read. Their reaction had been subtle, but it was enough to trigger her survival instincts. From experience and training, she knew to trust her gut and take action. Indecision was not an option. And in the field, to hesitate might get her killed.

Without turning around, Alexa assessed her situation. If the men were connected to a surveillance team, they’d have a backup plan if she hailed a cab. And they could track the cab through the taxi company. Without thinking, she quickly ducked into the store and made her way to the back. When she saw a salesclerk heading for her, she smiled and waved her off.

“You got a way out back? I’m trying to avoid an old boyfriend. You know how it goes.”

“Sure do, honey.” The sharply dressed saleswoman pointed toward the dressing rooms. “We got a loading dock through those doors, and good luck ditching the jerk.”

Within a minute, Alexa was on foot down an alley. She cut through another store and changed course again until she had lost the two men tailing her, but that didn’t mean she was in the clear.

When she found a main thoroughfare, she took a risk and hailed a cab. She was already late. If she didn’t rush, the bank would be closed when she got there.

And without the contents of her safe-deposit box, she’d be dead in the water.

Sentinels’ Headquarters

“She tried to ditch us, but we picked her up again.”

“Where is she?” Donovan Cross asked the agent who headed the second surveillance team tracking Marlowe.

“Bank of America. We’ve got eyes inside the bank. She’s in the vault, accessing a safe-deposit box. What do you want us to do?”

Cross didn’t like the sounds of this. If Marlowe was like any other good agent, she had a plan to ditch her identity and become someone else. And the contents of her safe-deposit box would help her do that. He knew from personal experience that she’d have fake passports and IDs, cash from several countries, and myriad ways for her to stay off the grid. A seasoned field agent like Alexa Marlowe would have stashed plenty of ways for her to get very lost.

“Don’t let her out of your sight, do you understand?” Cross found it hard to keep the urgency from his voice.

“Copy that. When she leaves the vault, we’ll be on her sweet ass.”

“Just call me when she leaves.” Cross ended the call and tossed his cell onto Garrett’s desk.

Arrogant son of a bitch! Cross had more respect for Alexa than the pompous jerk following her, and he hoped he wouldn’t regret giving the assignment to a young agent with something to prove.

“What are you up to, Marlowe?” He sprawled in his chair and stared across Garrett Wheeler’s office. “And what have you got stashed at that bank?”

Cross had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer to that question.

Sentinels’ Headquarters

Twenty minutes later

“We lost her.” Donovan Cross hated failure, especially when he had to be the one to admit he’d underestimated Alexa Marlowe. “I had a team on her when she left headquarters, but she gave them the slip.”

“Do you think she knew she was being followed?”

The man on the other end of the line was his contact deep within the Sentinels’ organization, one of the anonymous members of the elite council who secretly ran the covert group from a discreet distance.

“In a word . . . yes. Bank video footage showed she entered the vault to access a safe-deposit box, but the surveillance team lost her coming out.”

“How is that possible?” The man on the phone asked the same question he had only moments ago.

“Apparently, she had a change of clothes and a wig in that box. She ditched the stuff she had on in a vault trash bin. And the disguise she used was good enough to give our team the slip when she left the bank. She was dressed like an old woman.”

Cross knew that field operatives could be real cagey and downright paranoid. If the hair on their necks got goosed, it wouldn’t matter if they actually saw anyone tailing them. They’d follow their instincts and get lost in a crowd. And they had the training to carry out that slick maneuver easily enough.

“What about her apartment?”

“The surveillance team had someone there, too, but she never showed. We still have it staked out, but I don’t think she’ll go there now.”

“This isn’t good, Cross. What are you doing to rectify the situation?”

“We may have a line on her. When I get something definitive, I’ll call you.”

Cross told the man how his surveillance team had scoured digital camera feeds from all over the city after they’d hacked into the municipal traffic system. They’d picked up Alexa again—once they knew what disguise to look for—and although they hadn’t pinpointed her exact location, they were getting close.

Very close.

“I don’t have to tell you how sensitive our operation is at the moment. Find her, Cross. Do it, now.”

After his call ended, Cross gritted his teeth. He hated losing. And Marlowe had bested him from day one, but with the success of the mission on his shoulders, that had to stop.

Outside New York City

10:40

P.M.

After Alexa felt safe enough, she grabbed a quick bite from a fast-food drive-through and hit a twenty-four- hour pharmacy before she found a place to spend the night. Without prying eyes, she changed her hair color to

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