“G oddammit!” Braxton snarled after Quinn alerted them to the change in plans. “There was no elevator in the building plans.”

“Mesa probably greased some palms,” Zane said calmly. “Don’t sweat it. She just turned on her tracker.”

“Everyone meet back at the SUV,” Brax ordered. “Hang on, Q, we’re coming.”

He hated the idea that she had to deal with Mesa for longer than necessary, but Quinn was a trained professional. Reminding himself she could take care of herself, he stormed back to the Suburban. Once everyone was inside, Saint hit the gas as Brax pulled up Quinn’s moving location on his phone’s app.

Listening to Quinn flirting with Mesa through the comms unit made him squirm in his seat. Luckily, she had some good acting skills, because he knew it was hard for her to pretend to like the cartel leader. Even though he knew it wasn’t real, Brax hated hearing every minute of it. Her flirting game was good, and it dredged up thoughts about how many men she’d dated during their time apart. How many she’d slept with.

Shutting that line of thought down fast, he studied the map. Mesa’s vehicle was heading toward Miami’s luxe Epic Residences & Hotel, one of the plushest spots in the city. He probably had a suite there and Brax’s mind whirled as he considered their options.

Instead of pulling up to the valet, though, Mesa’s car circled around the posh hotel.

“They’re heading to the marina,” Brax stated. His stomach sank and suddenly he had a very bad feeling.

“Mesa owns a superyacht,” Zane said. “It’s seventy-five meters long and named Espíritu de Colombia .”

“How the fuck do we follow a yacht?” Saint asked.

Brax didn’t hesitate, his mind already three steps ahead. “Banshee, hack into their manifest and find out where they’re going. Bruja, tell Pyro we need a helo ASAP and we’re down at Epic Marina.”

“Roger that,” they both replied.

◆◆◆

As the car pulled up beside an enormous yacht, Quinn breathed a silent sigh of relief. Brax and his team were on it. They’d follow her no matter where they might sail. An extraction from a boat might prove easier than a building, anyway. There was also the possibility Mesa wouldn’t take her anywhere. Best case scenario, they’d stay docked and Mesa planned to have some fun with her before he kicked her off and left Miami.

But, she was the only one leaving the city. Once they were alone, she’d shoot him between his beady eyes.

Mesa led her to the enormous boat and she tilted her head back, taking in the white hulk. It was nothing more than a toy, bought from the endless cocaine and other drugs he sold. She wasn’t impressed.

“She’s amazing, no?”

Quinn glanced over and forced a bright smile. “I’ve never seen a boat this big,” she gushed, batting her lashes and pretending to be impressed.

“It’s a superyacht,” he corrected her.

Yeah, yeah, she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. They walked across the gangplank and Mesa fired off some rapid-fire Spanish to a man all in white who she assumed was the vessel’s captain.

Quinn understood Spanish. She’d always been good at picking up languages and it was one of six she spoke fluently, a vital skill from her time with the CIA. And Mesa just ordered the man to take them to his private island.

Great. That would make things a little more complicated. Most likely, he had a place in the Florida Keys. Nothing quite like 1700 small islands to create a lot of area to cover. She tightened her grip on her handbag. Thank goodness for the GPS tracker.

And, of course, the Glock she also carried. She was grateful she hadn’t been forced to deal with metal detectors at the club or she would’ve had to toss her weapon.

“This way.” Mesa laid a hand on the small of her back.

“Are we going for a ride?” she asked, channeling her inner ditz.

“I told you—we’re going back to my place.”

“This isn’t your place?”

“No, it’s an island in the Keys,” he answered vaguely.

“You have your own island?” She was doing her best to relay intel to Brax before she had to take out the earpiece or risk Mesa discovering it. Because, unfortunately, she was going to have to get closer to the man.

“I have several islands, hermosa ,” he responded.

As he led her across the deck and down a hallway, Quinn pretended to fidget with her earring as she plucked her comms unit out.

Bye Brax , she thought, and surreptitiously tossed it into a potted plant as they turned the corner.

◆◆◆

“How the hell did you get your hands on a helicopter so fast?” Saint asked Hunter.

The pilot gave them a big grin. “I know a guy who knows a guy.”

Brax glanced down at the large watch on his wrist and frowned. They were running too far behind the superyacht for his liking which, according to GPS, had docked fifteen minutes earlier. They could move quickly on the bird, though, and make up time fast.

Hang on, Cherry. I’m coming.

“She’s small, so there’s only room for two more,” Hunter informed them. “Fair warning, swimming will be involved since she’s not amphibious. Who’s coming?”

Brax knew Gray had to go. Beside him, the big man stood up straighter, waiting for the order.

“You ready, frog?” Brax asked Gray.

He gave a sharp nod. “I’ve been waiting for this day,” he said in a low, deadly voice.

“Let’s go.”

“Be careful!” Inda called out.

They followed Hunter over to the helipad and climbed inside the waiting bird. Quinn had gone radio silent and he’d been a bit of a mess since. Her being out of sight bothered him enough. Not having her voice in his ear put him even more on edge. He had no idea what was happening and it made him feel out of control. And that was something he hated above all else.

Control kept him sane and he strived to maintain it at all costs. It made him feel like he had a say in an operation or, in general, his life. Although he knew how to adapt, he preferred when things were predictable and ran smoothly.

And this op was turning into a sea of unpredictability fast.

Hunter got the helo in the air and Brax looked down as they flew over the black ocean below. For all he knew, Quinn had already put a bullet in Mesa’s brain, stolen a boat, and was on her way back to Miami. Hell, he wouldn’t put it past her. She was the queen of adapting. It was one of the things that had made her such a formidable agent.

Had her being so incredibly adept at her job been her downfall? Had someone felt threatened by her? Enough that they’d set her up?

She said she was innocent. She’d told him five years ago and he hadn’t believed her. Then when he’d reached out, she was already gone. Blaming himself for their marriage falling apart wasn’t going to help him find her now. But, maybe, it was time he told her.

The constant whump-whump-whump of the rotors filled his ears and he glanced over at Gray who was lost in his own thoughts. The man had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Brax hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by bringing Demon with him. Sometimes when things became too personal, operators could get into their heads and begin making decisions with their hearts rather than their brains.

Oh, hell, who was he kidding? He had bigger stakes in this mission. Gray was after revenge while Brax was out to save his ex and possibly rekindle their love affair. He couldn’t deny it any longer. Whether he liked it or not, Quinn was the love of his life.

And, goddammit, he wasn’t done with her yet.

Okay, now that he admitted it to himself, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Acknowledging his feelings was a big step. He just needed to tell her. Because no matter how hard he’d tried to get over his ex-wife, he hadn’t been able to do it.

There were too many reminders. Things he missed on a visceral level. Like the way she challenged him, never backing down. Or how it felt like his entire world shifted when they kissed. Her intelligence, her strength, her smart-ass comments. The way she made him give up control with zero regret when she was sucking his cock. Her smell, her touch, her taste…they all haunted him.

Once he had her back on the mainland, they had a lot to discuss. This time around, he wasn’t letting her run away from him.

“You boys ready to get wet?” Hunter asked. “This is about as close as I want to go.”

The helo hovered around eight-hundred or so yards offshore. The darkness provided a good cover, but it would be reckless to try to fly closer. No doubt, the island was well-guarded and the last thing they wanted to do was alert anyone to their presence.

Brax glanced over at Gray who gave him a thumbs-up sign.

Time to go swimming. It should only take them ten to twelve minutes to reach the island, depending on the waves and current. He knew Gray was an exceptionally strong swimmer from his SEAL days, but Brax was pretty damn good, too. He may not have had as much aquatic training, but he could hold his own in the water.

“We may need a pickup. I’ll be in touch.”

Hunter sent him a salute as he and Gray opened their doors. A gust of wind buffeted the helo, making it bounce slightly above the dark water below. Without hesitation, they both leaped and plummeted down, hitting the waves with a splash.

◆◆◆

The moment the Espíritu de Colombia docked, Quinn couldn’t get off it fast enough. She’d managed to dodge Mesa’s amorous advances by claiming a touch of sea sickness, but it was getting harder. His estate was just as ridiculously luxurious as his superyacht. More so than she could’ve imagined, actually. They took a golf cart to get to the main house, passing lush foliage and what looked like some kind of enclosure along the way.

“What’s that?” she asked, straining to see past the netting in the darkness.

“My collection,” he replied mysteriously.

She didn’t like the sound of that. What the hell did he collect?

Once they reached the house, or more accurately, mansion, she climbed down and followed him inside, her purse safely tucked beneath her arm. The place was enormous with high, vaulted ceilings, a wide, gilded staircase that curved up and an array of artwork from statues to paintings, all no doubt priceless.

It’s amazing what drug money can buy , she thought dryly.

It didn’t take long to reach the second-floor master bedroom which boasted a large outdoor veranda overlooking the back property, a luxurious sitting room and, of course, she couldn’t miss the king-size bed. It sat on a raised platform in the center of the room and a mirror hung on the ceiling above it. Quinn’s stomach turned in revulsion.

“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the fancy sofa with antique gold finish. While he poured them each a glass of champagne, she sat down on the soft upholstery and slid her handbag behind her, keeping it within reach.

Biding her time, Quinn pretended to look around the elegant quarters, but her mind was racing, playing out different scenarios of how she could kill him and escape with the least amount of problems.

Since she’d ditched the earpiece, she had no idea what Braxton and his team were currently doing. It didn’t matter, though. As usual, she only had herself to rely on.

Mesa walked over and handed her a crystal-etched glass. She wasn’t stupid enough to drink it, but she pretended to take a sip. It didn’t take long before Mesa pounced. Dammit. She felt her handbag against her back, but she hesitated, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Stifling a sigh, she tried not to appear as disgusted as she felt. The infamous cartel leader’s breath reeked of onions and alcohol, and his fat fingers were currently tugging her dress up while his other hand grabbed her breast.

Enough.

Right as she pulled her elbow back to slam her palm up against his double chin, a loud knock sounded at the door. Quinn jumped back and shoved her skirt down while Mesa cursed under his breath.

He heaved himself off the couch and stalked over, throwing the door open. “What?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry to bother you, el Escorpión . But intruders have been spotted on the island.”

Quinn’s mouth edged up.

Brax had come for her.