Page 12 of K-9 Guardians (New Mexico Guard Dogs #4)

The last time she ran into a suspected cartel hideout, she’d lost Gruber, Julien and almost King. This time would be different. This time she had her team. And she wasn’t going to fail.

“Metias Leyva. Hell, who knew the son of a bitch would keep giving us trouble even after police had to pry that tire off what was left of him?” Granger Morais’s words didn’t match the gravelly voice she’d never heard raised above a warning.

The counterterrorism agent studied the property from the passenger seat of the SUV with the help of the tactical binoculars all Socorro operatives carried in their kits. Completely at ease. As though he’d done this a thousand times before. Which, she imagined, he had.

“You encounter him yourself?” King had been relegated to the back seat. More room to stretch out his leg. The plan was set in stone. He would remain behind until Scarlett and Granger cleared the property. With any luck, they’d have Julien when they returned. And if anything went south, he could call the rest of the team.

Granger lowered the binoculars and tossed them into the console between the front seats. “Not personally. No. Though cleaning up what was left of his operation got put on me. Took a few weeks, but I managed to trace every one of his soldiers back into their dark holes or into the shallow graves where the cartel left them.”

“What about Hernando Munoz?” King asked. “The husband of Leyva’s niece. Did you uncover any evidence he had something to do with Leyva’s operation or have any reason to believe Munoz was using his wife’s uncle for his own agenda?”

Granger faced off with King in the rearview mirror. “None, and I dug deep. If your guy was involved in Leyva’s business, they kept it off the books.”

“I’m sensing a theme.” Scarlett studied what she could see of the oversize mansion down the block. The DEA couldn’t condone an independent investigation into the cartel led by one of their own agents. All matters concerning Hernando Munoz would be shut down and placed under review for actionable leads, but that still left a ten-year-old boy out here on his own. The FBI didn’t understand what they were dealing with. Scarlett did. She grabbed the driver side door handle. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Granger shoved free of the vehicle.

Scarlett craned her neck to face King. “You know the deal. You leave this vehicle only—and I mean only—if Granger and I recover Julien.”

“Couldn’t break out of here if I wanted to.” He adjusted his weight in the seat.

A small part of her wanted to believe he’d listen to his body and not aggravate the wound. But King had proven the lengths he would go to for his son before.

“I’ll be on the radio. Talk to you soon.” Scarlett secured King inside the SUV, then latched the radio on to her belt and unholstered her sidearm. Sweat had already built in her hairline. “You think I should crack the window for him or something?”

Granger’s laugh did nothing to release the unease building inside her as they approached the one-story mansion surrounded by nothing but desert. No cover to hide their approach. If Munoz had a team surveilling the perimeter, they’d be made in seconds. “He’s not a dog, Scarlett. The man can take care of himself.”

Her unease darkened into discomfort. Her Kevlar suddenly seemed much heavier despite years of getting used to the weight. But it wasn’t that. It was the feeling of something missing. Gruber and Hans, King even. In a matter of days, she’d gotten used to their team. However scattered and mismatched they were. They’d done something amazing together in that warehouse.

Scarlett looked back, putting King in her sights through the tinted window, and the pressure let up. Just for a moment. It was enough to clear her head as she turned back toward the house. The SUV was there. Right where overhead satellite footage had put it.

She and Granger jogged low, using the vehicle as cover. Scarlett pressed her hand against the SUV’s window to block out the sun distorting her vision. “It’s empty. Judging by the fact our footprints are the only evidence of life on this driveway, I’m guessing it’s been sitting here for a couple days.” Panic was starting to set in. That she’d made the wrong call. That she’d wasted another couple of hours of Julien’s precious life. Of Gruber’s. “Why is nobody shooting at us?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. On me.” Granger raised his weapon shoulder-level and left the cover of the SUV. He and Scarlett moved as one toward the front door of the home.

Property records still put the home under Metias Leyva, the uncle. No new homeowners. Only next of kin listed was Catalina Munoz, but this place... She didn’t like how quiet it was.

It was massive. More than the two of them could search in under ten minutes. The structure sprawled out at the foot of the low-rising mountain at its back. Massive windows overlooked their position as she and Granger approached. Decorative pavers led them straight to a large overhang protecting the front door. Sunlight could barely reach into the cave-like space, and a tightness started in Scarlett’s chest. Etched glass rimmed gray double doors, but no light escaped from within.

They pressed their backs into the structure on either side of the door, weapons in hand. Waiting. Her breathing was headed toward the rafters, too high to control. Granger held up three fingers, and Scarlett nodded acknowledgment.

Three. Two. One.

She put everything she had into her heel and slammed it into the space beside the dead bolt. Aged wood gave under the force, and the door slammed back on its hinges. A wall of dust rained down into Scarlett’s face and collected at the back of her throat as she and Granger breached the door. This was it. This was how she made up for her mistakes.

They stepped into an oversize entryway—empty apart from a single circular table stylized with faux flowers and a stack of books. A cavern of white tile and double-story ceilings threatened to swallow them where they stood. Arches gave Scarlett a view into a sitting room off to the right decorated with ornate chairs she never would’ve felt comfortable sitting in. If she’d ever been invited to a cartel lieutenant’s home for dinner. Over-the-top vases stuffed with dead flowers peppered the room as they followed the flow of the home.

“Something’s not right here.” She didn’t know how else to explain it. This...knot behind her sternum. That part of her that wished she had Hans and Gruber at her side ached. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on them until now. How much she needed them. “You feel that?”

“Yeah. I feel it.” Granger moved into the kitchen, weapon raised high, as Scarlett pinpointed the command panel for the security system.

Holstering her weapon, she faced off with a rectangular gray cover equipped with a keyhole at the top, a camera to identify the user to the left, a card reader off to one side and a keypad with twelve digits on the other. The Ascent K2 model worked off a homeowner’s cellular data with a special SIM card installed in the phone with cloud-based access from anywhere in the world. She scanned the ceiling, spotting two cameras capable of visually identifying visitors or intruders just within range. More were likely installed throughout the house and around the property, but there wasn’t any indication the system was operational. The equipment wasn’t affected by temperature or power outages. So why hadn’t she and Granger set it off? “The system should’ve sent an alert the second we stepped onto the property.”

“I’m guessing whoever was here didn’t want to draw attention from law enforcement.” Granger’s even voice once again contradicted the words coming out of his mouth.

“Why do you say that?” She prodded both thumbs around the frame of the security panel, looking for a way past the keypad, keyhole, camera and card reader. Though if that were possible, this brand wouldn’t be one of the top-of-the-line systems in the world.

“Because of the dead guy in the kitchen,” Granger said.

Scarlett dropped her hands away from the panel, every cell in her body homed in on the pool of blood peeking out from behind the nearest kitchen cabinet at Granger’s feet. Dead guy. Not dead boy. Hope expanded in her chest as she rounded into the kitchen.

And froze.

“Hernando Munoz.” Crude bandages had been wrapped around the ankle where Scarlett had sliced through the lieutenant’s Achilles tendon that night in the warehouse, but that wasn’t the source of all the blood. The handle of the blade dented Munoz’s chest around the wound. “Stabbed. Like Agents Roday and Dunkeld.”

“Only whoever did this didn’t leave a badge this time.” Granger bent down, careful not to compromise the body. He pointed at one side of the bloody hole in Munoz’s chest. “There’s something at the edge of the wound. Wedged in there. A business card, maybe. Hard to tell with all this blood.”

“It’s mine.” The voice cut through her, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire.

Scarlett confronted King as he shuffled into view. “What are you doing here? We haven’t cleared the rest of the house yet, and you agreed to stay in the car until I radioed you.”

“There’s nobody here.” Those three words shouldn’t have held so much weight to them. But King was right. They would’ve already come into contact with Munoz’s soldiers already. King nodded at the body, his crutch offsetting the shift in his weight to the point he looked as though he’d fall at the slightest touch. “The card. It’s mine.”

“How can you be so sure?” Granger shoved to stand, holstering his weapon.

“Munoz pulled it out of my pockets before tying me to a chair in his warehouse and handicapping me,” King said. “Whoever did this has my son. They knew we were going to come after Munoz, so they killed him, and now we have nothing to go on to bring Julien home.”

“He’s still alive, King. We’re going to find him.” Nervous energy shot down into Scarlett’s fingertips. She needed to keep moving, keep uncovering lead after lead until she fixed this. “Granger, check the rest of the house. I need Munoz’s phone, a tablet, a laptop—anything that connects to the security system. If we’re lucky, we might get something off the surveillance.”

“You got it.” The counterterrorism agent slipped into a parallel hallway and out of sight.

“You really think whoever did this was careless enough to leave evidence of murder behind?” King’s gaze bored into her. Desperate for the answer.

“It’s worth a try.” Because digging through security systems and building defenses was all she knew how to do. It had to be enough. Otherwise... Julien didn’t stand a chance. And that was what scared her the most. “But there is one more option. Someone I could reach out to.”

King’s chest and shoulders stiffened, pulling him up as straight as if a puppeteer had a hold of a string connected to the crown of his head. “What do you mean? Like a contact within Sangre por Sangre?”

“No. Not exactly. Though this person is involved in the same kind of smuggling as the cartel, and he might know where we need to look for Julien first.” Her skin caught fire from the weight of his attention, but not like it had when they’d slept in the same bed together. “Before, when I told you about how I got the scar across my stomach, I didn’t give you the whole story. I...couldn’t.”

He didn’t have an answer for that, and she didn’t have time to get into every detail if they wanted to recover Julien.

“The truth is my commanding officer brought me into the smuggling operation months before he tried to kill me.” Her lips dried in an instant, begging for relief. Everything she’d worked to hide about her past wasn’t worth the life of a child. No matter what happened next, she’d keep her word to bring Julien home. “I saw him do things I wasn’t supposed to in that time, and I think I can use it to get him to help us.”

H E COULDN ’ T brEATHE . Couldn’t think.

“Wait. You...” King tried to get his head around what she was trying to tell him while also trying to ignore the dead body at her feet. “He brought you in before the night you were stabbed and left for dead? Which means, you were in on the smuggling operation from the beginning.”

“Yes. I was one of the soldiers stealing cash, weapons and drugs the army confiscated from the enemy forces in the area.” Her voice cracked. As though she’d never admitted any of this out loud. And given the fact she wasn’t sitting somewhere in a cell that didn’t exist on paper, King put his money on the idea she hadn’t. “My commanding officer believed my skills for security systems and defense could work in their favor. And he was right. I made sure none of us were caught.”

Scarlett took a step forward but stopped her approach as every muscle around King’s spine hardened with battle-ready tension. “King, I give you my word, I thought we were putting those resources to good use. I didn’t know the full extent of what they were doing, and I needed—”

“What did you need, Scarlett? The drugs? The money?” The answer didn’t matter. Blood drained from his upper body in a rush, nearly knocking him over. The woman standing in front of him wasn’t the one he’d partnered with over the past few days, the one who’d given him her word to bring his son home.

“No. I just...” Her gaze cut somewhere past his left arm. “I thought we were doing something good. They told me everything was going back to the people we were trying to help, but it was a lie.” A glimmer of tears reflected in her eyes. “Two weeks before I ended up in that hospital, I found out about the human trafficking. My CO and the rest of my team were selling off women and kids to the highest bidders, and I pulled out. I made a plan to expose the entire operation, but I made a mistake. I trusted the wrong person. That’s when my commanding officer decided I couldn’t walk away alive.”

“And what? You want to get in contact with him and ask for help to find my son?” King tried to thread his hand through his hair, for something to distract him from the churn of rage and betrayal, but his balance shot to one side. “No. You know what? Don’t answer that. Because you’re just digging yourself deeper. I have grounds to arrest you and hand you over to the army, Scarlett.”

“Not as long as you’re suspended from the DEA, you don’t.” She took another step, her voice softening, but it wouldn’t work. The manipulation, her proximity—none of it would affect him. Not anymore.

“You lied to me.” And that was what hurt the most, wasn’t it? That Eva had lied about his son’s existence for ten years. That Adam had lied about running his own investigation into Sangre por Sangre while preaching they had to work by the book. But of all the people he’d trusted to have his back, Scarlett was supposed to be different. A partner. Someone who didn’t break their ideals and proceeded on logic and truth. Someone he could rely on to bring his son home.

Only that hadn’t been the case at all. He never knew that person.

That was all anyone was. Appearances.

And he’d taken them all at face value.

“King, listen to me. Hernando Munoz is dead. The man who orchestrated Julien’s abduction is dead and so is any reason or personal revenge he had to do it. Munoz had leverage by keeping Julien alive, which gave us time to strategize until he made his move.” Her breathing picked up, making her words wispier. Urgent. “Whoever killed Munoz has your son. Only now they have no use for Julien. They’ll use him until he doesn’t serve a purpose, and it already might be too late, but I can help. I can reach out to my former CO with where to start looking. I gave you my word—”

“What does your word mean, Scarlett?” The cavern of emptiness he’d tried to fill with his job ached around the edges. For the first time in...ever, he’d finally felt as though he was on the right path. Becoming a father, claiming justice for Eva and Adam, trusting Socorro with Julien’s life. But it’d all been a lie. “You just admitted to being an active participant in an international smuggling ring during your service. Anything you’ve said up until now has been corrupted. Your word means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me, and as of this moment, we’re done.”

He regretted the words the instant he said them, but there it was. Seeping into the silence between them.

Her mouth parted, and a vulnerability he hadn’t witnessed escaped on her next exhale. Color drained from her face and neck, and King half expected her to collapse, but in an instant that raw part of her was contained. As though it never existed. That guarded armor he’d managed to crack through the past few days returned, agonizing second by second, until King couldn’t read anything in her expression.

Scarlett shifted her weight center, almost a full inch taller as she faced off with him. “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. Consider your deal with Socorro void, Agent Elsher. Should the DEA require statements as to your investigation in Hernando Munoz from our operatives, please have them reach out to Granger Morais. He’ll be happy to assist.”

Agent Elsher. Not King. The formality stabbed through him as effectively as the blade in his thigh and sent an earthquake of renewed pain into his nervous system. But King wouldn’t break. Not as long as Julien was still out there.

“House is clear. No signs of clothing or toiletries left behind. Whoever was here didn’t stay long. Must’ve taken Munoz’s devices, too.” Granger rounded back into the kitchen and stopped dead cold. With palpable tension, his hand eased toward the sidearm at his hip as the counterterrorism agent’s gaze bounced between King and his teammate. “Everything okay?”

“We’re done here.” King’s own words seemed to hit harder when coming from Scarlett’s mouth. She tried for a smile, but everyone in the room saw the forced nature behind it. “We can call the body into Albuquerque PD from the SUV. Agent Elsher is going to babysit the scene until they arrive.”

King hadn’t volunteered. But without Socorro resources, staying behind would give him the chance to search the place himself before police arrived on the scene. There had to be something here that could tell him where Julien was. It was Locard’s principle. Anyone coming onto a crime scene left a piece of themselves behind, and anyone leaving took pieces with them. No matter how small. “I just want to find my son.”

He sounded hollow. Way too calm and casual about the fact she was about to walk out that door and out of his life forever. Possibly taking the only chance Julien had with her.

“So do I.” Scarlett gave a final nod before maneuvering around him. Her boots echoed off the fancy tile until the pitch changed, and King couldn’t hear her or Granger’s steps.

He was thrown into a silence punctuated only by his own thoughts.

King forced his weight onto his good leg and took a step forward. The island with the body on the other side of it spanned the length of the entire kitchen and didn’t leave a whole lot of room for an injured former DEA agent with a bad leg to navigate.

His heart seemed a whole hell of a lot heavier than it had a minute ago as he caught Socorro’s SUV pulling away from the house. Albuquerque PD would arrive to investigate the body. He had ten, maybe fifteen minutes before he’d be forced to take a back seat. He needed something now.

King set the crutch against the counter, not caring when the damn thing slid out of reach and hit the tile with a metallic bounce. His good knee collapsed onto the cream tile, and it took everything he had not to fall onto the body while trying to hold himself together.

Moving or searching a body before the medical examiner had a chance to catalogue the remains wouldn’t help his case with the DEA, but King couldn’t wait. Because Scarlett was right about one thing. They were already out of time. Julien was out there. Without anyone to look after him or use him for their own agenda. Alone. Scared. Possibly hurt.

“Come on, Munoz. You gotta give me something. Where would you have stashed a ten-year-old kid?”

King plucked at the blood-soaked business card stabbed into the bastard’s wound. Why the hell had Munoz hung on to it? The son of the bitch had his son. Having King’s contact information wouldn’t have done him a damn bit of good.

King memorized the bruising settling at the back of the lieutenant’s neck. Tortured. Thoroughly. And for an extended period of time. But that didn’t make sense. Munoz served the cartel. Why kill him with his own MO unless...

Acid surged up his throat as he pieced the business card back together. Munoz’s blood raced into the whorls and loops of his fingerprints. The front looked like every other business card King handed out to witnesses, victims and sources. Apart from one element. His first name had been circled in smeared dark ink.

Turning the card over, King stared at the scrawled handwriting across the back. Recognition iced through him as he read the phone number over and over. Not in his handwriting, but Adam’s.

He cut his attention to Munoz’s face, trying to come up with why his former partner would’ve had any motive to reach out to Munoz one on one. Close enough to hand the lieutenant one of King’s business cards. And only came up with a single answer. “Son of a bitch. You were helping them, weren’t you? You were Adam and Eva’s source.”

Munoz had wanted the DEA to breach the warehouse. Had given Adam and Eva what they needed to investigate. Which meant Munoz hadn’t ordered Eva’s murder or had anything to do with Adam’s death. Someone else had. Someone who’d caught onto Munoz’s betrayal and killed him for it.

That was why the lieutenant had been so desperate for King to hand over Eva and Adam’s investigation files. He’d needed something from them. A way out of the cartel? A chance to get away from someone within? Then he’d used Julien to try to force King’s hand.

Only Scarlett and King hadn’t been able to break the cipher Adam and Eva used to manually encrypt their notes, and Munoz wasn’t talking anymore. King had nothing to support his theory, but the pieces fit the violent and bloody puzzle scattered around him.

He stared at the inked circle around his name.

“It can’t be that easy.” His name. It was the four-letter word that linked them all together, wasn’t it? Except now the DEA had the physical case files, and King had left the copies with Scarlett. It would take a court order for her to hand it over after the way they’d left things.

Pounding footsteps charged his defenses into overdrive, and King used the edge of the counter to bring himself to his feet.

“Police! Is anyone here?” Two officers penetrated his vision, weapons aimed. At him. “Sir, I’m going to need you to step away from the body with your hands up.”

“Agent Elsher, DEA.” One hand raised in surrender, King dragged his badge from beneath his shirt for the officers to inspect for themselves. “I know this is bad timing, but I’m going to need a ride.”