Page 11 of K-9 Guardians (New Mexico Guard Dogs #4)

She hadn’t told a single soul.

Not outside of the court of JAG lawyers and the judge who’d been all too ready to throw her in the darkest hole after everything that went down.

Scarlett didn’t want to think about any of that. About what had happened after she’d woken soaked in her own blood. She wanted to be in this bed. With King. He’d told her they hadn’t slept together, but this somehow seemed far more intimate than mutual pleasure. As though she’d allowed him to dig through the scar across her stomach and peek inside. She’d never forget these moments. No matter what happened.

“How did you make it out of that alive?” he asked.

“I don’t remember.” It was the truth. She should’ve died from her wound. Part of her did and was continually trying to convince her none of this was real. That she’d been sent to purgatory to fight an impossible opponent for the rest of eternity. If she believed in things like that. Her brain provided the memories she’d tried to shove into a box at the back of her mind for over a year. “I remember my CO coming at me with the blade. I fought him off. As hard as I could. But it wasn’t any use. I remember the knife going in. It burned more than I expected. I’m sure you can relate.”

“A little.” His thumb followed the length of her scar, back and forth, back and forth. Trying to hypnotize her. And it was working. Keeping her in the moment. Giving her an anchor when it would be so easy to let go and fall into the past.

She’d never had that before. Someone to hold on to. During her military career, she’d believed deep in her core that her unit would have her back. No matter where she was assigned. But that belief had been cut out of her. Literally. “He left me to bleed out. Stood over me until I lost consciousness to make sure, I guess. But next thing I knew, I was waking up in a small hospital room barely holding itself together. I was off base. I could tell that much right away. The surgeon who stitched me back together didn’t even speak English. The army took my being off base as an act of treason. I was branded AWOL within hours.”

“They charged you?” Distinct lines deepened between his eyebrows.

“After my unit was sent to find me, yeah.” Her pleas echoed through her head as the scene played out like it had happened yesterday. “I tried to run, but the hospital I was brought to didn’t have the resources to give me any pain medication. It hurt too much to move. I could barely stand on my own after what happened. So I was court-martialed. Dragged back to base. My CO stood in front of the judge, the attorneys and everyone in that room and told them he’d uncovered a smuggling operation within his own unit. That I was the ring leader, and he’d tried to stop me.”

“And most likely used the fact you ended up in an off-base hospital to prove you were a flight risk,” King said.

He was good at this. Putting the pieces together. It was what made him such an excellent agent, and she couldn’t help but admire that. Maybe if she’d been as committed to looking at the people closest to her as she did for outside threats, none of this would have ever happened. Maybe she could’ve seen the end of the tunnel before the train hit her.

King’s breathing had grown shallow, matching hers, and Scarlett wondered if his heart was threatening to pound straight out of his chest like hers. If his hands were sweating like hers. Probably not. This wasn’t his story. It was hers. Dark and violent and full of secrets she’d hidden inside herself. But King made her feel safe. Good, even. Like someone worthy of being in his and his son’s orbit. That feeling called to something deep and closed off inside of her. Something she’d left untouched for...forever.

“I was sent to the base hospital. Under guard. Handcuffed to the bed. No matter what I said, no one would listen. Not even my defense attorney. I didn’t have any proof of my claims, and my CO knew it. And having me in custody gave my unit enough time to slowly shut things down in case someone else caught on. Lucky for me, I was isolated. No chance for them to slip by and finish the job.”

“The investigators had to have found evidence somewhere. Someone must’ve come forward with information.” King slid his hand along her hip, and instant defensiveness carved through her. But she was more convinced than ever he wasn’t the threat. It was her own vision of herself. The crystal clear version of the woman who failed to bring Julien home as she’d promised. “You’re here. You’re with Socorro instead of in some prison the military keeps off the books.”

“It was Granger.” A chill tremored through her as she realized King had gotten closer. Mere inches between them.

He was absolutely beautiful. Impossible to look away from. Dangerous in his own way, but only to her sense of mission. Even so, she didn’t want to pull away. She wanted to taste his mouth and didn’t even care if that was weird. Had she ever wanted to taste someone before?

“We were stationed overseas at the same base,” she said. “Overlapped by a few months as he worked counterterrorism in that part of the world for a brand-new private military contractor that hadn’t gotten on its feet yet. I didn’t know about him until I was being released from custody and handed my discharge.”

“He’s the one who brought you to the hospital. Gave the judge proof you weren’t involved in the ring?” he asked.

She didn’t really know how to answer that. Not with so many pieces still missing. “I know he found me in that hangar. If Granger hadn’t been there, I would’ve died. He told me later he was already aware of the smuggling ring. He’d been closing in. And that made my CO desperate. Granger had gone in to that hangar to find the confiscated goods my unit stashed. Instead, he found me. Later, when he offered me a job working for Socorro, I took it without looking back. And here I am.”

“Here you are.” King’s voice softened. His fingers brushed against her lower back and dug into the skin there. “Keeping your team and everyone else you care about safe.”

“Almost everyone.” She expected the past to rush into the present, to take these electrically charged moments from her, but it didn’t. It stayed where it was supposed to. Firmly behind her. And left her all too aware of the hole consuming her from the inside. Which shouldn’t have been possible as long as King held on to her.

“We’re going to get them back, Scarlett. Both of them. Julien and Gruber. Together.” Before she had a chance to argue, King crushed his mouth to hers. Claiming her. Fiercely. Intensely. As though he needed her as much as she needed him. And it didn’t make sense. But his kiss was slick and hot and sweet, and all common sense had gone out the door the moment he touched her.

He angled his head, accessing her more deeply, and Scarlett had the impression if he hadn’t been holding on to her waist, she would’ve fallen right off the bed. Heat charged up her neck and seeped into her face.

She’d kissed a few good men in her lifetime, starting at fifteen when her mouth had been full of braces and her boyfriend’s bad breath. None of those compared to this. Her body responded as though she’d been waiting months—years—for this moment. Maybe all of her life for this kind of desire, and parts of her body she’d never fully engaged with were starting to wake up.

She met him stroke for stroke, with each ferocious pass of his tongue, and managed to keep the pain in her nose from taking over. Her heart thundered in rhythm with his, her whole body shaking for release as she clamped a hand onto the back of his neck and refused to let him separate from her. She was supposed to be in control, on alert for any kind of threat, but King made her feel desperate. Wanted. Whole.

Her body pressed against his from chest to toes. She was ready. For this. For them. For his forgiveness.

A knock punctured through the pounding in her temples, and King broke the kiss. “Expecting someone?”

“Not unless that’s the breakfast I asked you to get.” The pressure that’d tried to suffocate her since being forced to get King to the hospital last night had lightened. To the point she was able to take a full breath for the first time in hours.

“Can you have food delivered here?” he asked.

“Only if you want to traumatize poor delivery drivers.” She released her hold, hating the emptiness in her gut that followed. But as much as she wanted to pretend these walls could protect them forever, reality didn’t play that way. Hernando Munoz was still out there. Still terrorizing the people of New Mexico, increasing his reach by merging with an unknown partner and holding a ten-year-old boy against his will.

Scarlett left the warmth of the man in her bed and padded to her bedroom door. Every muscle in her body ached with a reminder of her failure. She opened the door to Granger on the other side. “You have something for me?”

The counterterrorism agent handed off a single piece of paper. “You were right. We were able to trace the signature in the fentanyl pills you recovered from that warehouse back to a supplier.”

“I thought you said you handed the evidence over to the DEA.” King straightened to the edge of the bed but didn’t bother trying to stand with his wound.

“I did. All but one of the pills.” Scarlett read over the report of ingredients broken down line by line, looking for the one that would give them everything they needed: the cartel’s new partner. “Once we breached that warehouse, there was no way Sangre por Sangre was going to stick around for the authorities to confiscate that much product. Given how much fentanyl is worth on the street, I’d say we uncovered a six-million-dollar operation. That kind of loss would destroy the cartel and any chance Munoz had of making it out of there alive.”

“So you kept one of the pills to have tested.” A hint of admiration reached through the buzz he’d left behind from that kiss. “The DEA will be running their own tests. They’re going to find out where those drugs came from.”

“Yes, but federal crime labs take weeks to process evidence, and they’re certainly not going to know where to look before we do.” Bingo. The last ingredient. Scarlett glanced up at Granger to confirm the dread seeping through her. “Are you sure?”

“Had Dr. Piel run the results twice. She says it’s not a mistake. We can do it again, but we’re going to need another source. She went through the single pill you gave us. But unless you know of someone else using dextromethorphan in their fentanyl, I think we have our answer as to which organization Sangre por Sangre is using for new product.”

“Dextromethorphan.” King grabbed for his crutch and dragged himself to their position at the door. She handed off the toxicity results, and his gaze locked on the paper in his hand. “I only know of one organization that uses that as a signature in their product.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Scarlett wanted to sink back into bed, to rewind the past few minutes and pretend wolves weren’t waiting at the door all along. “Sangre por Sangre has teamed up with the largest triad in the world.”

T HE TRIADS CONTROLLED the drug trade through bribery, extortion and murder in the extreme. To the point western law enforcement couldn’t even penetrate the organizations without inside help. They were the sole hands-off source of the opioid crisis ripping through the world.

And Sangre por Sangre had taken them on as a partner.

Providing them with unlimited resources in product, weapons and manpower. New Mexico would never stand a chance once the cartel took full advantage.

King couldn’t just sit here. He dressed as quickly as his leg allowed. The wound was pulsing, trying to hold him back, but this new intel wouldn’t wait for him to recover. The cartel was in over their heads, and his son was stuck in the middle. “Adam and Eva must’ve figured out the connection. They were getting too close to exposing the triad’s involvement.”

King aggravated the stitches in his leg, and he fell back against the mattress. Nausea surged as pain stabbed through his thigh, and all he could do was wait for it to pass. Sit here. Useless in his own body. “Damn it.”

“Take it easy.” Scarlett was there, securing her hands around the back of his calve. “That wound isn’t going to magically fix itself in under twenty-four hours, King. You’ve got to give it some time.”

“I don’t have time.” He hadn’t meant his explanation to sound so harsh, but King couldn’t help it. They were running out of time. Julien was running out of time.

“I know.” She massaged her fingertips around the wound, careful not to touch anywhere close to the bandages. “That’s why I had Granger take what we know upstairs. Ivy and Socorro have been taking a lot of heat as to why the cartel only seems to be getting stronger despite our efforts to take down the key players. Now we know the answer. They’re not the only ones we’re up against, and I have a feeling it’s been that way for a while.”

Every muscle in his body prepared for the pain she’d trigger if she kept touching him. Only it never came, and he seemed to be relaxing, inch by inch under her touch. And, hell, he didn’t know how that was possible. A live wire of defensiveness had been sizzling beneath his skin his entire life. And this woman had somehow worked her way around it. That was her job though, wasn’t it? To figure out a system’s defenses and either build it up or take it down? Tough part was, he wasn’t sure which she was doing to him.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We only got to this point because Eva was killed two months ago.”

“In your world, yes. You started looking into Munoz because you suspected he had something to do with the murder of someone you knew.” She slid her hands along the back of his calf, starting from the base of his leg and working up again, and King couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. “But Socorro has been focused on Sangre por Sangre for close to a year. We’ve been mapping out their entire organization through surveillance, financials, property records and inside intel to find their weakness. Everything we’ve uncovered points to a simple hierarchy with no outside influence. One man at the top with lieutenants protecting their territories across the state. Now it seems we were wrong. We’re up against something much bigger than we or the Pentagon imagined, and I’m starting to think it’s only a matter of time before Sangre por Sangre stops trying to hide that fact anymore.”

Truth rang deep through his chest. She was right. Of course he’d carried out assignments that involved the cartel for years—a lieutenant here, a search-and-seizure there, border checks every few months—but he’d never tried to put the whole picture together before now. Before it became personal. A monster had been growing within the organization all this time and no one—not even the DEA—had suspected anything had changed. “It’s Munoz.”

Scarlett lightened the pressure on his leg, the only evidence she’d heard him at all. “What do you mean?”

“He has to be the liaison between the two organizations. That’s the only reason I could see him being so desperate to go after federal agents and their families to keep the triad off the DEA’s radar. To come after me. He’s scared.”

The pieces were slowly starting to make sense, but there was still so much missing from the overall picture. Something they weren’t seeing.

“He makes the connection with the triad,” King said, “proposes that Sangre por Sangre can be a gateway into the United States. Only problem is, his cartel isn’t the only one on the map, let alone the only one near the border. So he starts going after other organizations that can provide the same kinds of services and taking them out.”

“Like the Marquez cartel. The one whose leadership was taken out in a bombing in Sangre por Sangre’s warehouse ten years ago and the DEA called in Agent Roday.” A brightness King had come to anticipate lit up Scarlett’s eyes. She shoved to her feet as though the same kind of energy sizzling through him had transferred into her. “But why take the risk of bringing down the DEA, the ATF and Socorro on his own head? What does Munoz get out of all of this?”

“What do lieutenants like him always want inside these organizations?” he asked.

“Power. Respect. Fear, in a lot of cases. You think he wants to be the man at the top.” An audible inhale shuddered through her as she crossed the room, back and forth. “If that’s the case, our intel was right. Munoz is planning a hostile takeover from the inside. Which isn’t easy. I’ve watched lieutenants kill each other to claw their way up that ladder, but it never works. The guy at the top isn’t easily impressed. But Munoz would have all the support he needs if he pulls off a deal moving triad product. It’s a hell of a theory, but all we have to corroborate it is an empty warehouse and single fentanyl pill that was used up during testing.”

“We have more than that.” Though King wasn’t sure how far it would take them. “Julien recognized the woman who checked him out of school the day he was abducted. Kidnapping a federal agent’s son isn’t something Munoz would leave to just anyone, especially one of his soldiers. Too risky.”

Scarlett stilled. “You said the only female soldier that matched that woman’s description in Munoz’s inner circle was killed a few months ago.”

“There’s one I hadn’t considered.” And he hated himself for not realizing it until now. “Though up until now, I was positive she only benefited from Munoz’s lifestyle. There’s no evidence she’s involved in the business.”

Scarlett pointed a soft finger at him. “The wife. You think he sent his own wife to get Julien? But how... How would he have recognized her at the school unless...”

“Unless she was there the night Eva was killed.” King ran through every ounce of intel he’d gathered over the past two months. None of it fit in an obvious kind of way, but he needed something—anything—he could use to get his son back. And Munoz’s wife was all he had.

“Okay.” Scarlett darted to the tablet charging on her room’s built-in desk. “I can work with that.”

“I don’t know how.” Grabbing for the crutch he’d tossed on the floor last night, he wedged it beneath his arm to hike himself off the bed. “It took me a month to map out Munoz’s organization on my own, and the DEA has most likely already been by my place and seized anything pertaining to my investigation. I’m not exactly sure what you think you’re going to come up with in a few minutes.”

His phone fell free of his pants pocket and revealed a handful of missed calls. His supervisory special agent was most of them with a couple missed from an unknown number.

Given that the FBI had officially taken on Julien’s abduction, King imagined whoever had caught the case was trying to reach out as well. The FBI didn’t know Sangre por Sangre or Munoz like King did, but damn it, he needed as much help as he could get. Covering every angle. A quick review of his voicemails assured him the FBI and local police were working the case as best they could.

But he and Scarlett were onto something here. He could feel it.

“I don’t need your files. I just need...” She was lost to a series of taps and screens his brain couldn’t keep up with. “Got it.”

“Got what?” he asked.

“Catalina Munoz. Forty-six. Originally born Catalina Lemos in Mexico but soon applied for citizenship once her parents immigrated into the US on a work visa when she was ten. Her parents were denied and returned to Mexico, but they left Catalina with...an uncle. Metias Leyva.” Small lines creased in a half-star pattern along the edges of her eyes.

Seconds seemed to pound at the back of his head. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure yet. I feel like I should know that name.” Scarlett shook her head as though to rewind the past few seconds and made a few other swipes across the screen. “Catalina managed to gain citizenship and went on to graduate with the highest marks from Columbia at the age of twenty with an MBA before marrying Hernando Munoz a year later. No children or dependents. They own their home in Albuquerque. No work history on her part that I can see from filed joint taxes in the last seven years, but if these financials were filed right, she’s never had a reason to work a day in her life.”

“Where are you getting all that? Because everything you just listed requires a warrant.” King tried to get a good look over her shoulder, but Scarlett pressed the tablet to her chest.

“One look at this screen, and you make yourself an accomplice. I’m pretty sure you want to keep your job with the DEA when this is over, don’t you?” She eased the screen away from her chest and continued the digital flip through whatever information she’d found. “So let’s just say I have my ways.”

She had to be kidding, right? “Your ways? You know nothing is going to hold up in court if you can’t prove you searched Munoz’s financial history legally. Even cartel lieutenants have rights.”

“I’m not interested in taking Munoz or his wife to court,” she said. “All I want is to bring your son home alive. This is how I can do that, King.”

The shock of her words sucker-punched him. It took him longer than it should have to get his head on straight, but he guessed that was why it was good to have a partner. Someone he could count on to keep him grounded. “I already put all this together on my own, and unless you think Catalina’s background will give us an idea of where my son is being held, none of this means a damn, Scarlett.”

“What if I told you I know where I heard that name? Metias Leyva. Catalina’s uncle who raised her.” She turned the tablet toward him and slid her finger across the screen to narrow the bird’s-eye view over a property he didn’t recognize. Rural, almost deserted from the look of it. “Socorro has dealt with him before.”

“He’s Sangre por Sangre? I mapped out Munoz’s organization during my investigation, even going as far as checking into extended family members for a lead. His name never came up in connection to Catalina,” he said.

“He was Sangre por Sangre. Pretty high up, too.” Scarlett set her attention back to the tablet screen. “He threw a raid party in a small town called Alpine Valley in search of his ex-wife and came up against one of our operatives. He survived the encounter, but the cartel found out he’d put his own agenda before theirs, and he couldn’t face upper management without punishment. So he ran. Cops found him with a tire around his neck outside Albuquerque.”

“Let me guess. Lit with accelerant and a match to make it harder to identify him. Not to mention the message it sent to the rest of the organization.” King took the tablet, studying every pixel on the screen. Especially the dark rectangle positioned on a long dirt driveway. “If he’s dead, then why is there an SUV parked in front of his house?”

“That’s a great question.” Scarlett pried open one of the doors to her built-in shelving and pressed her thumb into a safe installed inside. The keypad lit up, releasing the locking mechanism, and she handed him a sidearm. “Are you up for finding the answer?”