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Vincente Lopez Garcia. Cartel royalty. Power, privilege, and impunity were his birthright. He could have whatever he wanted.
And he wanted Gia. Because he loved her?
Or was it about control.
Didn’t matter. He couldn’t have her. He’d never have the opportunity to get close to her again. To lay his filthy hands on her delicate skin. To get off on the fear that still shadowed her eyes.
“What precisely do you intend to do?” Ryder’s voice had sharpened.
“Lopez oversees Espina Negra’s fentanyl trafficking in the Southwest.” Rage tightened his throat. “My mother died because of it.”
“Caleb.” Ryder’s voice softened. “Pick the winnable fight. Doctor Barone is within reach—Lopez isn’t. Not yet, anyway.”
Anger surged, hot and acidic. “Law enforcement can’t touch this guy. Lopez parades around Miami spending blood money, and no one lifts a finger. Did Nathan tell you about the DEA agent who went missing?”
Ryder’s tone turned guarded. “If the DEA’s involved, they may have an interest in your doctor.”
The puzzle pieces Caleb had been trying to fit together snapped into place. He should have seen them sooner. “Because if she knew he was a leader in Espina Negra, it stands to reason that she also knows things that could send him to prison.”
“So maybe she’s running not only from an abusive situation…” Ryder began.
“But because of what she knows,” Caleb finished. “She played me. Told me just enough.” Doling out only the information she wanted him to have—that she was fleeing an abusive relationship.
Once he discovered Lopez’s true identity, he should have known there was more to the shadows in her eyes, the evasiveness of her answers. Her lies made a mockery of his instincts, made him question his own judgment. The realization settled like a stone in his stomach.
“What are you going to do?” Ryder asked.
“I intend to find out the truth.”
“Watch your six,” Ryder warned. “If you don’t, one of you will end up in someone’s crosshairs.”
“Understood.” Caleb ended the call.
The highway unspooled ahead, a stretch of empty asphalt hemmed in by high desert. Towering in the distance, sandstone outcroppingsmarked the foothills of the Chuska Mountains, part of the Colorado Plateau.
Caleb’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. The memory of his confrontation with Gia last night still clung like smoke—gray and suffocating.
She’d called him a good man. He wasn’t, really. He’d try to protect her, but if she could help stop Lopez…
Leather creaked beneath him as he shifted, restless. He wouldn’t force her. Too many men had failed her already. While he might not be a saint, he could show her that some men were trustworthy.
Near the Arizona line, a low-slung, red Mustang filled his rearview mirror, its distinctive rumble reminding him of his colleague Danny Mayhew’s GT.
Military age male. Shoulder-length dark hair. Mirrored sunglasses.
Caleb kept to the right lane, waiting for the more powerful car to pass.
The Mustang slid in behind him.
A white pickup passed and cut in front of him—too close.
Single occupant. Mid-thirties, beard, sunglasses, bandana.
The license plate was caked in mud, but Caleb could still make out part of the motto:Land of Enchantment.New Mexico.
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted.
In the left side mirror, a silver GMC was closing in.