Page 1 of K-9 Justice (New Mexico Guard Dogs #6)

CHAPTER ONE

The cartel had come for one of their own.

Ivy Bardot tried not to let the heat get to her, but there was no fighting it. The body had been left in the middle of the desert. Just like the others. A message. For her.

Dark hair splayed out from around a thin face. Wide eyes that had seen so much within the walls of Socorro Security stared into the sky without any life behind them.

The elements had done their job, stripping moisture from the victim’s ocher skin and leaving nothing but a thick rawhide behind. Victim. That word wasn’t supposed to fit. It wasn’t supposed to touch anyone on her team. She’d tried to make sure of that since founding Socorro. Every operative was trained to take care of themselves. No matter the circumstance. Search and rescue, emergency protocols, food and supplies in every vehicle, combat training. It didn’t matter the face staring back at her had seen more violence and blood out of the field rather than in. Ivy was responsible for all of them.

What had Dr. Piel done wrong?

“That her?” Chief of police Baker Halsey let his shadow cast across the cracked desert floor. Alpine Valley’s protector had done his job. He’d taken Ivy’s suspicion and run with it. Right out here into the middle of nowhere.

Only problem was, this wasn’t the first time she’d been here.

In this exact spot. Staring at another victim who’d been stripped bare and left to rot. Not just one. Three before now. Déjà vu grabbed hold and refused to let up, dragging her back three years, when she’d still been working for the FBI.

“Yeah. That’s her.” Ivy tried to swallow around the mass in her throat, but there wasn’t going to be any relief here. Sweat gathered beneath her blazer, and her mouth dried. “Do we know anything about where she’s been the past three days?”

Right on time. The killer she’d known had taken and held his hostages for three days before dumping them in strategic locations in the middle of the New Mexican desert. She and her partner had never been able to narrow down the location of their final moments. Though, looking back, she’d known this day was coming. That she would pay for letting a killer get away.

She just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Or to one of her own.

“Nothing yet. The medical examiner is stuck in Albuquerque. Won’t be able to retrieve the body for a couple more hours,” Halsey said.

“She deserved better.” A pressure she’d become familiar with over the course of the past two years bubbled behind her sternum. Purpose replaced the cold leaking of grief in her gut, and the distractions bled to the back of her mind. Ivy cataloged everything she could about the scene. No tire tracks. At least, none that they would be able to match to a specific make and model. The man who’d done this was careful, calculating. He’d gotten the best of her once upon a time, but she’d changed. She could be just as calculating when she had to be. “Grab some gloves. We need to turn her over.”

Halsey seemed uneasy at the idea. There were rules in a crime scene. No one touched the body until the coroner or the medical examiner had a chance to do an external exam and document and photograph the victim, but they didn’t have two hours to wait for the right authorities to get here. The relentless heat could be destroying evidence as they spoke. “Like I said, the ME won’t be here for a couple hours.”

“I know that. I’m asking you to break protocol.” Ivy hated the manipulation lacing her voice, but there were times when it was all she could do to keep the bad guys from winning. “I need to see her back.”

Halsey considered her a moment. He’d been involved with one of Ivy’s operatives enough to get a read on her himself. That was one of the things she liked about the chief of police. Always asking questions, never satisfied with the answers. Eager to dig beneath the surface and find the truth. Whatever Halsey saw in her expression then had him convinced what she was asking was worth the risk of contaminating a crime scene. He pulled a set of latex gloves from his back pocket and shoved both hands inside before crouching beside the victim. “Looking for something particular?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Her breath seemed to double inside her chest, taking up too much space for her lungs to function properly. Nervous energy skittered up her spine as the chief gently rolled Dr. Piel onto her front.

And there it was.

The markings she’d decoded—too late—carved into the woman’s back. Fresh. Jagged. Unrepentant.

“What the hell is that?” Halsey asked.

A bead of sweat escaped her hairline, dissolving her controlled appearance in an instant as the secure world she’d built around herself cracked wide open. “A message.”

A shift rippled through the chief as the implications of her answer settled in. “A message. For who?”

She didn’t have all the information yet. She could be getting ahead of herself, but instinct said this was the same man. The same killer. The one she’d fought to what she’d believed to be his death two years ago at the hand of her trusted pocketknife. Only to learn he’d escaped that dark basement when she’d recovered. There was something she had to do. “Take care of her, Halsey. I’ll be in touch.”

The chief repositioned the body as though they hadn’t just broken the entire rule book of their investigative training manuals. “Where are you going? We need to coordinate so we can figure out where she’s been the past few days.”

“I need to make a call.” Ivy forced herself to take even steps in the direction of her SUV. To prove she could. That another body—a colleague—killed in the same manner as the victims from her last investigation for the FBI couldn’t get to her. That she was as untouchable as she’d convinced herself she was when she’d built the most resourced security company in the world. But she was quickly learning that no amount of training or weapons, no amount of operatives and their K-9 units, could protect her from the failure clawing up her throat.

She locked herself inside her SUV, not even giving herself the chance to find relief from the heat. Halsey blocked most of her view of Dr. Piel through the windshield as he draped a tarp over the body. They couldn’t risk the sun speeding up decomposition if they wanted an accurate assessment of time of death, but the woman’s feet were still visible. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d worked too hard and too long for the past to be able to reach her now. Ivy punched the vehicle’s start button with her thumb, and the engine came alive.

This wasn’t a onetime incident.

Her stomach rolled at the idea of another one of her operatives turning up dead. Jocelyn, Scarlett. But that wasn’t the only way to hurt her either. While the killer preferred female victims over male, every one of her operatives had bound themselves to their significant others and partners in the past two years. They’d built their own families, one even welcoming their first child. If anything happened to any one of them…

Nausea churned hot and acidic as she pulled away from the scene. She’d built Socorro Security out of a need to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Those like the three women abandoned and killed for no other purpose than to draw Ivy and her partner in. Cartels like Sangre por Sangre fed off innocent lives, poisoned the very people they went out of their way to use, abducted children into their ranks and killed anyone in their way. But Socorro had put a stop to that. Ivy and her operatives had sacrificed and risked their lives for this. They’d made a difference. According to their inside source, upper management within the cartel had gone into hiding. The few remaining lieutenants were on the run. She’d done that. She’d saved lives.

And yet she hadn’t been able to save one of her own.

Tears blurred her vision as she checked the rearview mirror. The crime scene was long behind her, but the weight of loss clung tight.

Dr. Nafessa Piel had been one of the first contractors Ivy had taken on. The work she and her operatives had engaged in came with casualties, mostly in the form of physical injury in the field. Bullet wounds, concussions, stab wounds. The cartels didn’t fight fair, and they certainly didn’t have any remorse for doing whatever it took to achieve their mission. Dr. Piel had been there right from the beginning. Ready to send contractors back into battle, a little more worn, but stronger.

Socorro Security was supposed to save the world.

Who was going to save its operatives now?

Ivy accelerated toward Albuquerque, letting the hour tick by without much thought. There was no point in heading back to headquarters now. She didn’t have answers for the team, but from the soft ping of her cell phone every few minutes, that didn’t stop them from trying to get them. She turned her entire focus on the mental map directing her to Fairview Memorial Park just as the air conditioner was beginning to penetrate through her slacks and blazer.

The cemetery wasn’t large in any sense of the word, but it had been constructed in that unique Mexican-inspired architecture of sandstone monuments, bare patches of dirt and white grave markers. Light stuccos and black metal rods made up the columns standing guard over the souls forever resting inside. Ivy parked along the side of the road, gazing through the gate. She’d never come here before.

There hadn’t been a need until now.

Ivy shut off her phone, disabling any kind of GPS. Though it wouldn’t be hard for her security consultant to track her down if Scarlett put her mind to it. That was what Ivy paid her for. Only it hadn’t saved Dr. Piel when they’d needed that skill the most, had it? Whoever’d killed their physician had known Socorro would find her. That had been his plan all along.

She shouldered out of the vehicle and rounded the hood. Slipping her hand into her blazer pocket, Ivy felt for the pocketknife she’d carried since leaving home at seventeen. The one that had saved her life when it mattered. She navigated through the gate and around the first few headstones. Once-pristine landscaping—dying grass, interestingly enough—spread out in front of her and made her search easier. A slope arched from her left, creating a slight hill with hundreds of markers, some a century old, staring back at her.

Seven from the right. Two back.

Ivy pulled the pocketknife and set it on top of the headstone of a name she’d never been able to forget. The third victim of her last investigation. The one that had led them straight to her killer. “It’s time for us to finish this.”

* * *

Carson Lang was waiting for her.

Tucked into the corner of the apartment in one of the well-loved chairs. Out of sight. Clear line to the front door. Just in case he had to make a quick escape.

He hadn’t bothered with the lights. Too exposed. Shadows hid the minute details of a woman who escaped here more than she wanted others to know. A knitting project—half-finished—splayed across the side table, her most recent read beneath it. This one a psychological thriller. Seemed she didn’t get enough real-life mind games and danger in her work. She had to seek them out in fiction. It all added up to a woman who took charge of her circumstances. Who didn’t wait for permission to take action or walk a straight line to get what she wanted, but there were softer sides to her, too. Ones she’d tried to hide her whole life. To prove she was worthy. That she wouldn’t fail. That she’d climbed free of her past.

The scar directly over his right kidney testified to her softer side.

He didn’t have to learn what kind of woman Ivy Bardot was by being in her personal space. He’d been watching her for a long time.

The front-door dead bolt flipped. The door cracked. Slower than he expected. Her outline maneuvered inside and closed the door behind her. Blocking his exit. A strong inhalation crossed the space between them. A distraction for him to focus on as she unholstered her sidearm.

She was good.

“Don’t bother with the lights.” He could practically feel the battle-ready tension ripple down her frame from here.

“It will look more suspicious if I keep them off.” Her voice erased years of doubt, secrets and violence in a single sentence. Hell, he’d missed it. That connection to the outside world. A place where he’d once thrived with her at his side. “Not to mention it’ll be harder to shoot you for breaking into one of my safe houses.”

“You’re the one who called me, remember?” He held up the pocketknife in front of the window to his right. Just enough light for her to register it. A piece of her he’d known had taken everything for her to leave on top of that gravestone and walk away.

Ivy set her bag on the entryway table beside the door, moving slower than he knew she wanted to go into the living room. Gun still in hand, she reached beneath the lampshade on the opposite end table. The entire space burst with brightness, and it took too long for his vision to adjust.

Except he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Under the wrong circumstances the perps they’d apprehended had made that very same mistake, only for an entirely different reason. Her guard was up, based on the way she was scanning the rest of the apartment with those intense eyes that seemed to know far more than she let on at any given moment.

Something had changed.

Something had gone wrong.

She crossed the room and retrieved the pocketknife. As though she physically needed it in her possession. “I had no other choice. Where’s my dog?”

Of course, that would be her most pressing question in this little exchange. It always was when they managed to debrief every few months.

“Max is downstairs in the SUV.” The German shepherd had been a parting gift before he’d gone undercover. One that had ended up saving his life a couple of times. “Couldn’t risk her drawing attention.”

“Right.” Ivy hadn’t moved.

“What do you mean you had no other choice?” A heavy weight pinned him into his seat. Carson sat forward. This wasn’t like her. Not the real her. Sure, she had to keep that legendary emotional armor in place when in the field and directing her team and Congress, but she didn’t need to do that with him. They were partners. Didn’t matter they were on two opposite ends of the spectrum at the moment. They would always be partners. “What happened?”

“One of my operatives is dead. Our physician.” Ivy disappeared behind the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, her heels echoing through the safe house. Her direction changed, farther down the hall as she swept the rest of the place for threats.

He wouldn’t take it personally. The things they’d seen as partners had nearly destroyed them. Any slipup, any mistake on their part, meant risking the very lives they were working to save.

“I’m sorry.” Carson shoved to stand with every intention of pulling Ivy into his arms, but she wouldn’t let herself slow down long enough for that to happen. Not now. “How?”

She slid back into his vision, holstering her weapon beneath the navy blue blazer that brought out the depth of emerald in her eyes. Ivy leaned into the wall, crossing her arms across her frame, and exhaustion caught up in her expression. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” he asked.

“That he was coming for me.” There was a bite in her voice. Accusation. “Our last case together. When three women were found dead in the middle of the desert with symbols carved into their backs. We caught up with the killer. We barely made it out of that house alive. He got away through an escape hatch that led beneath the house and emptied out onto the back of the property.”

“I remember the case, Ivy. The son of a bitch nearly killed you.” Where was she going with this? Why had she pulled him out of the field? Why had she risked blowing his cover? To rehash an old investigation? “If it weren’t for that case, we wouldn’t have known about Sangre por Sangre until it was too late.”

Sangre por Sangre. Blood for Blood. The cartel had clawed its way to the top of the food chain through brutality, abductions, underage recruitment, drugs and women. The organization demolished competitors and left nothing for police and the DEA to tie back to them. Socorro Security and Ivy’s team of private military contractors had been the only ones to ever get close enough to bringing the cartel to its knees. With him feeding her the information she needed to do it. Now Sangre por Sangre was on the run. Desperate to keep itself alive. Carson was close to identifying the head of the cartel.

“He’s been out there all this time, but no matter where I look, he’s a ghost. We agreed you would go undercover in the cartel to find him. I quit the FBI because I didn’t think the federal government could protect you as well as a private organization could, and I’ve kept my end of the deal. I built Socorro Security for you. You said you would find him, and we would end this. It’s been two years, Carson, and we’re as clueless as when we started.” She slid away from the brace of the wall, standing on her own two feet when it looked as though she wanted nothing more than to collapse right here in the middle of the floor. “Who is he?”

“What is this?” She was so close, it wouldn’t take much for him to reach out for her. But the distance she was purposefully putting between them set his nerves on edge. This wasn’t the Ivy he’d gone undercover for. This was his former FBI partner, before they’d risked their lives for one another. Before he’d been injured in the field. Before she’d donated a piece of herself to save his life. And, damn it, he hadn’t missed this version of her. He wanted more. He’d always wanted more for them. “Why the sudden interest in our last case? What is it you’re not telling me?”

Ivy turned on her heel, heading for the bag she’d left at the front door. In seconds, she’d pulled something from inside and thrust it against his chest, every ounce the woman with the capability to bring the world to a stop with a snap of her fingers.

He grabbed for the paper crumpled under her grip. Not a piece of paper. A photo. Carson slipped it from her hand, instantly victim to the softness of her skin against his. The past two years had put him in a position of power, of respect, of camaraderie within the cartel. He was trusted by upper management. Though he’d never met the leader of Sangre por Sangre , Carson had proved himself time and again as a valuable asset. He’d made friends. Some of whom he’d fought beside as they’d taken their last breath in the field. Some who’d sat beside him in cuffs when an assignment went south. His fellow soldiers had been there for him. And, yeah, there’d been women. Cartel bunnies who were always more interested in what his position could give them rather than what he craved. But this… He’d missed this connection. The feel of Ivy. Her warmth. Her compassion. His heart rate ticked up at her mere touch.

Until his brain cleared enough to process the subject in the photo.

Dr. Nafessa Piel. Dead. Exposed. Left to decompose alone. Complete with added wounds carved into her back. Carson had seen this before. He’d lived it. Only it had been a different woman then. The symbols were different this time, too. This wasn’t the same message the killer had left him and Ivy two years ago announcing Sangre por Sangre ’s rise. “When did this happen?”

“The medical examiner hasn’t been able to determine time of death yet,” Ivy said. “But she’d been missing for three days.”

“Same as the others. Let me guess—nothing but mucus in her stomach? Dehydrated, starved and tortured.” The details would line up. She didn’t have to respond. The answer was written all over her face. Carson forced himself to study every detail of the photo in an attempt to pick up on something they’d missed before. “And the message?”

“I pulled the old case file and compared these symbols to the ones left on the other three victims. He’s evolving. Using a variation of the original, from what I can tell.” The fight seemed to drain right out of her then. “I have a member on my team who may be able to speed up the decryption, but it’s still going to take some time.”

“Why now?” Carson offered the photo. “Why her?”

“Socorro has practically driven Sangre por Sangre underground, thanks to your intel and our manpower. This could be a final attempt to survive.” Ivy stared down at the photo of her colleague, and a sadness Carson couldn’t stand etched deep into her features. She would blame herself for this. And without hesitation she would take on the entire cartel to make it right. It was one of the things he admired most about her. It was why they’d gotten this far. She swiped her hand under her nose and grabbed for the photo. “As for why he targeted Dr. Piel, I was hoping you might have some insight.”

He wanted to give it to her, but despite his years undercover, she knew everything he did about the cartel. “The last three victims betrayed the cartel. They were used as a warning to those who stepped out of—”

A red laser cut through the room between them.

“Get down!” Ivy lunged for him.

Just as a swarm of bullets exploded through the window.