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She smiled, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the proverbial cat that just ate the canary. As she got up, she carefully removed the sling and laid the sleeping baby in the nearby portable crib. “It’s a good thing I enjoy a challenge. That password was a bear.”

“But you kicked its ass.”

“Damn straight I did.” She sat back down and typed a command into the keyboard. “Why don’t you bring in some chairs so I can show you what I found?”

Nate eyed the lone threadbare office chair on the opposite side of her desk. He knew from experience it was uncomfortable as hell; she kept it there as a way to deter people from lingering in her office.

Once chairs were brought in, and everyone was settled, Nate leaned one arm against the desk. “All right, we’re ready to bask in your awesomeness. What you got?”

Nearly vibrating with excitement, Larissa shifted the monitor so they had a better view. She clicked on a file, and a spreadsheet appeared on the screen. “There aren’t any headings, which made it a royal pain to figure out what the numbers stand for. But then Austin made a comment about your truck being trashed, and it clicked something in my mind.” She highlighted one of the rows. “These are vehicle identification numbers.”

Nate stared at the long series of numbers and letters. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I pulled a few of them up. They’re mostly high-end cars: Porsches, Jaguars, stuff like that.” She highlighted another column. “And these numbers right here? They’re bank account numbers.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, that’s where things start to get sticky.” She cast a glance to Dorcas and Rita, and all trace of humor left her face. “What you’re about to hear doesn’t go outside this office until we clear it. Understood?”

Both women nodded.

Larissa used the cursor to highlight one of the long strings of numbers. “Long story, but I recognized this particular routing number as belonging to a bank in Honduras. On a hunch, I checked it against my list of known accounts that are connected to Aranza and came up with a hit.”

Nate’s heart dropped down to his shoes. “Are you sure?”

She threw him some world-class shade. “Of course I’m sure.”

“Who’s Aranza?” Rita asked.

Before he could answer, Larissa replied, “Mexican drug lord. Real nasty guy. He has a bad habit of leaving a trail of dead bodies wherever he goes.”

The color drained from Dorcas’s face.

The thought of Dorcas tangled up in that asshole’s web ratcheted all of Nate’s protective instincts into overdrive. To sooth her nerves as well as his own, he reached over and took her hand. “I thought you cleared out Aranza’s accounts last year.”

“Not all of them. I left two of the smaller ones undisturbed—for now—so I could monitor their activity and try to use that to pinpoint his location.”

“Any luck?”

Larissa cocked her head a little to one side and arched one eyebrow. “Have I given you a location?”

He caught the agitation in her voice and raised his hands in a don’t-shoot-me gesture. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.”

She sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “Most of the account activity I’ve seen originates from Central and South America, each time in a different location. As soon as I see something stateside, I’ll let you know. Honestly, I should have caught this sooner. But ever since I had the baby, things have been crazy and—”

“It’s okay, sis. Nobody’s faulting you.” Christ, how could they? She’d returned to work within days of giving birth, even though they all told her to take off as much time as she needed. Hell, more often than not, she brought the baby in with her. God only knew how many hours she worked from home each night.

Larissa took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, then put the glasses back on. “I know. It’s just...I don’t like things falling through the cracks. Especially stuff like this. It’s too important.”

Nate gave her a long, appraising look, noting the stress lining her eyes and the corners of her mouth. He kicked himself for not catching it sooner. “How many hours are you working each week?”

“Not enough to keep up.”

“Fifty? Sixty?”

She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I can’t say for sure.”

That answer meant she was probably working closer to the higher end of the spectrum. Or more. He suspected Nina was working just as many. They were usually here when he arrived each morning, and were still around when he left. That kind of schedule for weeks on end was a guaranteed recipe for burnout.