Max screamed in agony, then shouted, “Don’t do it, sis. Don’t listen to them. Go far away and don’t come back. They’ll kill you too. I’m already dead.”
Even though she’d promised herself that she would never be pulled into Max’s world again, she couldn’t turn her back on him. Not like this.
“Please. Stop. Don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll go wherever you say. Just tell me what to do.”
“You better pay, perra. If you don’t want to glue his body parts back together. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Another crack sounded, followed by more moaning.
“Please. Stop. I’ll. Do. Anything.” She had to find a way. A throb ricocheted between her temples.
“Antigua Bay Resort. In two days. On the beach at noon.”
Click.
“Oh. God. No.”
Lauren didn’t hang up. Not even when the dial tone sounded.
Think. Think. She had a little money in savings. Her business was doing well. Maybe she could secure a loan for the rest? But how? There was no time. Where on earth would she get that kind of cash on short notice?
Knees weak, she sank to the kitchen floor. Her body quaked. A slow ripple that arose deep in her belly moved through her chest, her arms, her fingers.
Tremors vibrated down her legs.
She didn’t move. Or cry. The fight drained from her.
But she shook so hard it felt as though her bones might fracture, splinter through her skin, and explode into a thousand tiny flecks of dust.
Chapter 2
An untraceable call. A hundred-fifty thousand dollar loan. An express ticket to a known money launderer’s favorite drop spot. An innocent woman caught in the middle. And the dog really ate your homework, didn’t it, sweetheart?
Jaden Dean raked his fingers through jet-black hair, ignoring the icy chill running down his spine as he memorized the details of Lauren James’s file while on the flight.
Two weeks had passed since he’d taken the assignment to keep an eye on her. It was supposed to be a simple, local babysitting job while he recovered from his injuries after being shot on his last mission. The Blackwater-type agency he worked for was headquartered in D.C. but Jaden was a Dallas man. He’d be stupid to ignore the similarities between missions.
Jaden had recently been burned by a so-called innocent woman trapped in a sting by a family member. Experience had taught him there was no such thing as straightforward when it came to family ties and criminals. Besides, it had taken some skill to get that amount of money on a flight undetected.
Nothing had been transparent since Tim Johnson’s death a little more than a month ago. Tim should be alive. Then a week later, Agent Smith had taken a bullet while on assignment with Jaden, who by all counts should also be dead. Smith was buried six-feet under and Jaden had a permanent reminder of the failed mission in the form of a bullet hole in his shoulder.
They’d been working a mission to gain crucial evidence on the Menendez family so the American government could issue warrants and stop the flood of money and illegal weapons flooding the streets and landing in the hands of a couple powerful gangs in Portland. It was getting more dangerous in the jungle and harder to know who to trust. Jaden should know. Camila Menendez had played him for a fool.
Jaden ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. What the hell was happening? He’d spent the past month trying to figure out exactly when and where he’d gone wrong.
And now everyone had to keep an eye on Helena. She’d been blinded by her grief and was becoming a liability. She was a distraction ManTech couldn’t afford.
He picked up Lauren James’s picture from the file of intel and studied it intently. Jogging shorts and a tightly-fitted tank revealed flawless ivory skin. Her curly mane of red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing her bare neck.
Her body? One look at her perfect, long runner’s legs said she’d picked the right sport. Her lean, taut body was built for the track. To say she was attractive was a lot like saying a motorcycle had two wheels.
She looked exactly like the kind of woman Jaden would want to get to know better. Except his attraction was out of place under the circumstances.
He stood and stretched long, muscular legs. The memory of his recent encounter with Smith’s wife still a little too fresh. Normally, he’d push the memory down deep and create some distance from it. The anguish, the crying, the whole scene had nearly done Jaden in. He did emotion about as well as he did family. His job left room for neither. Smith had mistakenly thought he could have it both ways. He’d left behind a heartbroken wife and two kids in diapers.
The pilot turned on the Fasten Seatbelt sign and made an announcement that they were starting their descent. Jaden’s shoulders tensed and his chest squeezed. He tried not to think about the fact that he was flying to the Caribbean during hurricane season. He tucked the picture of Lauren James in the file and closed the folder during landing.
The plane bustled with activity as soon as clearance came for passengers to move around the cabin.
Jaden reached for his bag in the overhead bin. Pain tore through his shoulder centering on the point of the bullet’s entry. He cursed as he tightened this grip on the handle, pulled the bag down, and deplaned.
Bryce, his spotter, was already on the ground waiting at the rendezvous site. Immediate radio contact informed Jaden that his asset had taken Burma Road until she reached Dickenson Bay on the northwest corner of the island.
Jaden also learned that Lauren had spent fourteen minutes inside the hotel before setting foot on the sand, which he figured was about how long it would take him to reach the beach and locate Bryce.
He was spot on.
“Love the hat. Nice get-up,” Jaden said to Bryce. He wore a straw
