shared with anyone—not even with lovers.
Sipping Starbucks coffee that she’d grabbed on the go, she navigated the Upper East Side on foot, heading back to her home. It would be the first time since yesterday afternoon that she would cross her own threshold, but not before she talked to Tanya to see if the analyst had had any better luck in tracking Garrett.
After she hit speed dial, Tanya picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, Tanya, it’s me. I suppose you heard?”
“Yeah, I heard what that man is sayin’.”
Alexa heard the contempt in Tanya’s voice, contempt meant for Donovan Cross. The Sentinels had replaced Garrett without causing a ripple on still water. It was business as usual, but not for her or Tanya, maybe others. Replacing Garrett would be hard, but she didn’t trust Cross. Something about him left her wary. Call it gut instinct. And she had to admit, trusting anyone after the tight connection she had with Garrett would be next to impossible.
“Do you believe his story . . . about Garrett being dead?” she asked Tanya, resenting the doubt she heard in her own voice.
“Do you?” the woman shot back.
Before Alexa answered, her friend softened her tone.
“Look, I don’t know what to believe, except that I want all this to go away. All I know is that if he’s dead, I need proof. That’s all I’m sayin’. Guess I don’t trust that wannabe, Cross. Garrett Wheeler he ain’t, honey.”
Tanya’s Southern drawl always intensified whenever her attitude flared.
“Yeah, guess I’m not willing to give up hope either. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime, sugar. Now what have you been up to? Talk to me.”
Alexa tossed her empty Starbucks cup into a trash bin on the street, happy to get back to business.
“I’ve covered all my contacts, locals and otherwise. I’ve come up dry so far. If anyone knows anything, they’re not talking. Something’s up. I can feel it.” As the traffic light changed ahead, she found a quieter spot away from the crowd. “How about you? You got anything?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’ve got a lead, but you’re not gonna like it.”
“Why?” Her voice edged with worry. “What did you find out?”
“A guy in Logistics told me Garrett had taken a small team on a mission, but he can’t find any record of it. Whatever he had seen is gone now. And there’s no trace of the cover-up either. He’s working from memory.”
“And how good is that? Can we trust this guy?”
“I trust him, but I’m also looking for confirmation. Give me a little time. If there’s something out there, I’ll find it,” Tanya said. “My contact thinks Garrett was working off book, something I haven’t seen him do before. And according to my guy, no one knows anything about it, not even those who should. It’s really strange, Alexa. It’s like he’s dropped off the planet, and no one is talking.”
“So did your contact have the names, the guys he took on his team?”
“Not yet, but he’s working up a list of operatives who are AWOL without a specific assignment. A process of elimination. He’ll call me later with that intel. It’s the best we can do without more to go on. What are you thinking?”
“Garrett is too cagey to leave a trail, but maybe someone on his team wasn’t so careful.” Before Tanya could respond, Alexa heaved a sigh. “The thing is, why would he do anything without you knowing about it, Tanya? What could be so damned important to break protocol?”
“Good question, honey. I wish I knew.” Tanya commiserated with her in silence before she said, “There’s something else I have to tell you. I got a call five minutes ago. And you’re not gonna like this either.”
Tanya had mastered the art of the understatement. If she was concerned, that meant things were usually far worse.
“What’s up, Tanya? Spill it.”
Alexa shut her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Her brownstone apartment was a few blocks away. She’d be home soon and could use the second wind that a long hot shower could deliver.
“Donovan Cross is looking for you. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but I don’t like it.”
“Why didn’t he call my cell?”
“He strikes me as someone who’d rather come at you sideways rather than head-on, like one of those sidewinder snakes.” Tanya was spot-on with her analogy. “What do you want me to tell him?”
“If I was a suspicious person, I’d say he’s working you to get to me. I don’t trust him.”
“You got that right. As far as I’m concerned, the jury is still out on Cross. I don’t trust him either,” Tanya said. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Stall him for now. Tell him you can’t reach me. That’ll give me time to get really lost, but I’ll need you to be my eyes and ears. And when you find a lead on Garrett’s last-known location, I’ll need a way to get there. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”
“You got it.”
When Tanya ended the call, Alexa made up her mind to avoid her apartment and rely on her instincts to work off the grid. No one could know what she was doing. No one, not even Tanya. She didn’t make such a decision lightly. There was risk in what she planned to do, but she’d already set up for such a contingency. Most covert operatives had a similar backup plan, out of necessity.
Heading west, she walked across the street, tossed her cell into a trash bin, and took the first step to sever ties to her life. An operative always had a fallback plan if all hell broke loose. Cash was stashed away with prepaid cell phones, fake IDs, and passports stowed in safe-deposit boxes. It was time to utilize what she’d set up long ago.
And it was time to find out what had happened to Garrett, even if the news wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
Estella crept down the murky corridor but ducked behind a stone wall when she noticed the guard outside one of the jail cells. If she got caught, Guerrero would punish her, whipping her for disobeying his order to stay in her room. She had no doubt that she wouldn’t have been alone for long. Guerrero’s men would finally come for what their boss might have promised, and Estella would rather die than sit and wait for that to happen.
But why she had come to find the American, she had no idea. The man had one foot in the grave. He wasn’t strong enough to help her escape her fate, yet she followed her instincts to find him. She’d come to see where they had him. And even from where she stood, cowering in the shadows, she heard what they were doing to him. And it made her sick.
One voice stood out from the rest. And the sound of his cruelty raised the hair on her neck.
“Do it. Now!”
With the help of another man, Ramon Guerrero followed orders and grabbed the head of the naked prisoner. He shoved the man’s face into a tub of filthy water. With his hands in shackles, Garrett Wheeler bucked to break free, sloshing water to the stone floor. When he stopped struggling, and the last bubbles erupted to break the surface of the water, Guerrero looked over his shoulder at the man who had given the order.
Miguel Rosas, number two man to the head of the Perez cartel, had a reputation for brutality, with the body count to prove it. The Perez cartel was a splinter group making a name and expanding its reach. And Rosas had played a big part in the Perez family’s growing reign of terror in the country. Guerrero had no appreciation for the politics within the organization. He was only a soldier within its ranks, only wanting to carve out his piece of the pie. A manageable piece.
Guerrero had transported the drugged American to a heavily guarded villa outside Guadalajara, Mexico. Being allowed to remain with Wheeler had been a good sign that powerful men had taken notice and trusted him to get the job done. Participating in the interrogation was another good sign. He didn’t care if Wheeler died, but it made no sense to kill him before they got him to talk.
Finally, Rosas nodded, and the prisoner was yanked from the water. A loud, guttural gasp reverberated off the walls, but when Wheeler said nothing, his reprieve was short-lived.
“Again,” Rosas demanded.
“No,” the bound man gagged as his head was shoved back under the murky water. This time, when he was brought up, Rosas stepped closer and looked down at the gasping man.
