“You think they’re bringing the fight here?”
“I’d bet another steak dinner on it.”
Ingram snorted over the phone. “Not just no, but hell no. I’ve learned to trust your gut.” He sighed as he considered the possibilities. “So what do you want to do?”
“I’m thinking, Robert.” He continued to stare at the map. “How do you feel about letting a few assets off the chain to back him up?”
Ingram sat forward. “Won’t that be tipping your hand? If he gets wind of your wanting him as a field operative, I’d lay odds that you’ll never see him again.”
Jameson smiled to himself. “We’ll just to have to make sure he doesn’t know where the help is coming from.”
“What about his own team?”
Jameson shook his head. “He’s kept them out of this so far. Something tells me he’s taking this personally, and he’s keeping his personal issues separated from his work.”
“So how do you want to play this?”
“I’m thinking a quid pro quo from somebody from his past.” He sat forward and punched the wake up button on his computer. “Go through your files and see if you have any active assets that he’s worked with in the past. Preferably somebody that he has a real history with.”
“Meanwhile, what are you going to do?”
Jameson tapped at his keyboard. “The same. But I’m also going to see if I can create a situation for him that he can’t say no to.”
Ingram chuckled. “Yeah, good luck with that. People like Bridger can say no to a lot. Especially when it’s in his best interest not to.”
“No doubt he’s pigheaded, Robert. We just have to figure out a way to work that against him.”
Over the Skies of Mexico
Mario ran a finger along the edge of Teresa’s photo. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered her laugh. Her touch. Her smell.
“We will meet again one day, my love.”
“Señor?” The pilot appeared in the cockpit doorway. “We are approaching the Texas border. Do you wish to—”
“Continue to Houston,” Mario interrupted. “We have associates there that I need to speak with.”
The pilot nodded slightly. “Very well.”
He watched the door shut then picked up the phone. A moment later a voice answered. “Si?”
“Fernando, I will be arriving soon. I need you to gather your people.”
“How many, señor?”
Mario chuckled. “All of them. And tell them to bring all the weapons they can get their hands on.”
“We go to war?”
Mario nodded to himself. “Si. We are definitely going to war.”
Fernando’s voice took on an ominous tone. “Who are we killing?”
“First we have some business to take care of in Texas. Then we return to Mexico and finish what Esmerelda started.”
“Esmerelda? The Sinaloa?” He sounded almost afraid.
“One and the same.” Mario’s voice hardened as he spoke. “She had huevos big enough to attack Teresa’s villa. They destroyed it.” He inhaled sharply and fought the urge to scream. “We are going to find out if their cojones are as big as they think they are.”
“What’s the end game, señor?”
Mario chuckled. “We remove all memory of the Sinaloa. We take over their territory and their shipping lanes. And if any of the other Dons wish to confront us over it, we take what is theirs, too.”
Fernando laughed. “A conglomerate, si?”
“More like a hostile takeover, Fernando.” He snapped his fingers. “Go. Make the calls. We do not want to give the gringos time to regroup.”
32
Dallas, TX
“We should call the team,” Gregg said as he hefted one of the crates.
Bridger shook his head. “This isn’t their fight.”
Gregg dropped the crate unceremoniously and dragged him aside, dropping his voice. “Since when do we turn away tangible assets? Especially our own?”
Bridger took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “This isn’t their problem, Gregg. They have no dog in this fight.”
“The hell they don’t!” he practically yelled. “WE are their dogs, and we are definitely in this fight.” He shook his head angrily. “We have no idea the assets that the cartel will—”
“Mario,” Bridger interrupted. “This is Mario. We know what his assets are and we just wiped out ninety percent of them.”
Gregg’s eyes narrowed at him. “At that location. We have no idea how strong his organization is. And with the money at his disposal, who knows how many mercs he could hire to finish the job.”
The corners of Bridger’s mouth lifted into an angry smile. “This is personal for him, Slip. He’s not going to hire an outside force.”
“You can’t know that.”
Bridger nodded. “Yes, I can.”
“Bobby, you only met Gomez a handful of times. You don’t know the man. If you did, you would have seen that he’d flipped on us.”
Bridger shook his head. “We’re not calling in the team.”
Gregg groaned and looked away. “Can we put them on standby? Just in case?” He turned back to him and met his gaze. “Just alert them to a possible issue, have them ready to zip in and—”
“No.” The tone of his voice left no room for discussion. “If you want to go back to the office and wait this out, call a fucking Uber.” He turned and marched past the man, scooping up their gear as he went.
Gregg watched him for a moment then cursed under his breath before kicking one of the crates. “Pig headed son of a—”
“Problem?” Lisa asked.
Gregg turned to her and opened his mouth, too many ideas forming at once to create a logical sentence. “Him!” he finally spouted, pointing at Bridger.
She smirked and patted his shoulder. “He’s a frustrating bastard, that’s for certain.” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “But there’s nobody else I’d want covering my six in a fight.”
Gregg hung his head and nodded slightly. “He won’t let
