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His eyes narrowed, searching hers.
Looking for a truth she didn’t dare give him.
Finally, he spoke. “The guy with the mustache knew my father. He might have a connection to my mother.” His voice roughened. “Lock your door.”
He turned to leave—then paused. “And for what it’s worth, youareworth it.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest.
“Caleb,” she blurted, halting his exit. “Be careful.”
She shouldn’t worry about him. He’d proven he was more than capable of handling himself.
Still…the thought of something happening to him.
His eyes thawed, just a little. “I’ll be fine.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Closing her eyes, she pressed trembling fingers to her lips, where his kiss from earlier still lingered.
He was hunting for the men who had come for her.
What would he learn if he found them?
After he left Gia’s, Caleb called Nathan.
“How fast can you locate the clubhouse for the Aztec Kings, a motorcycle gang based in Gallup?”
“Locate it?” Nathan asked. “About two minutes. Identify the security setup and its strengths and weaknesses should you decide to pay a visit that wouldn’t be welcomed, about thirty to forty-five minutes or more, depending upon how good of a setup they have.”
“I just need the address. This is a reconnaissance mission.”
“What’s going on, amigo? First you ask me to dig up information on a woman and her ex. Now you want to spy on a motorcycle gang? I thought you were in Arizona to bury your mom?”
“That’s done. But there’s someone I need to talk to about my mother’s death, and he’s in town visiting the Aztec Kings.”
“Don’t do anything stupid where we have to come haul your ass out of trouble,” Nathan growled.
Caleb’s dark mood lightened a shade. “You know you’d have fun doing it.”
Nathan chuckled. “Yeah, I would, but I’m getting married soon, and you’ve met Emily. If I get shot again she’ll finish the job.”
Now it was Caleb’s turn to laugh because yeah, he did know Emily, and he wouldn’t cross that feisty blonde daughter of a Navy SEAL admiral, either. “How are the final wedding preparations going?”
“I am keeping my head down and mouth shut other than to say yes, dear.”
“Smart man. Text me as soon as you have the address.” Caleb hung up.
Ten minutes later, Nathan had sent him the location—an address, a satellite photo of the area, and a message:
Friendly group of guys. They make the Hells Angels look like a knitting club. Unconfirmed rumor, a Mexican gang’s been sniffing around, looking to become a player in the US drug pipeline—Los Coyotes.
Don’t get caught in a turf war.
Caleb drove to the location and staked out the clubhouse from a distance through binoculars.
He didn’t have to wait long.