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“Thanks.” Caleb draped his jacket over a chair and retrieved two mugs. “You want one?”
“Ahéhee’.” Zach pulled on his uniform top and tied back his hair.
The percolator hissed. Caleb poured the coffee and handed over a mug.
“Oatmeal should be ready,” Zach said. “Want some?”
As if on cue, Caleb’s stomach growled. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Zach scooped generous portions of creamy white porridge into two bowls and set one in front of Caleb with a spoon. “Did you come to tell me you were leaving?”
Caleb looked up, a retort on his lips, but paused at the twinkle in Zach’s eyes.
Progress, of sorts. Yesterday, his cousin might have given him a police escort off the rez.
He quirked a brow and let his own amusement show. “Trying to get rid of me, Cousin?”
Zach sobered, his eyes taking on a distant quality. “Remember the year before Grandmother died—when Grandfather took us to the Navajo Fair?”
“I remember.” Caleb’s lips twitched. “We talked him into buying us cowboy hats, then tried roping sheep.”
“We sucked at it.” Zach chuckled. “But it was a good day.”
“Until we ate too much fry bread and candy,” Caleb reminded him. “We spent the night at their house on the floor with a bucket between us, whimpering like babies.”
They shared a quiet laugh.
Caleb’s chest tightened. Somehow, he’d buried those good memories.
Zach looked down at his bowl, then back up. “You should take time to reconnect with your people while you’re here.” He looked away, as if the display of sentiment embarrassed him. “What brings you to my home at sunrise?”
Caleb set down his spoon. “I had my colleague at Dìleas dig into Gia’s ex.” He paused. “And Gia.”
A muscle twitched in Zach’s jaw, a silent protest building. “And?”
“Her ex is Vincente Lopez. Son ofEl Víbora. Head of the Espina Negra cartel.”
Zach blew out a harsh breath. “Hell.”
Caleb shifted, the oatmeal sitting heavy in his stomach. “Yeah. She’s not the innocent we thought. But,” he lifted a hand, “I’m not saying she isn’t afraid. Or undeserving of protection.”
His cousin wouldn’t like what came next.
“There’s more. I tracked down Manuel Ortega and his sidekick the other night.”
Zach’s mug hit the table, coffee sloshing over the rim. “What the hell were you thinking?”
The censure in Zach’s voice hit a nerve, but Caleb deserved it.
“Espina Negra’s using the Aztec Kings to expand their fentanyl distribution.” His training emphasized being part of a unit. A team.He’d let anger drive him—anger and grief. “Ortega knew my father. Might’ve given my mother the pills that killed her. Or he knows who did.”
The memory of that call from Camila cut through him.
Caleb, I’m so sorry. Your mother…she’s gone.
His hands curled into fists beneath the table. He shoved his emotions in a mental box and slammed the lid. What he was about to propose required a clear head.
He’d had all night to think about Gia’s lies. About the lives Vincente Lopez destroyed as he lived the high life in Miami.