Page 13 of K-9 Justice (New Mexico Guard Dogs #6)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

She’d already lost one of her operatives.

She couldn’t lose another.

Ivy massaged her uninjured palm into the steering wheel, but no amount of distraction could take away from the desperation clawing through her chest. Carson had made his choice to go back to the cartel in an effort to warn the friends he’d made of the danger headed their way. She should let him deal with the consequences of that choice. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave him to Sebastian’s sadism. She couldn’t let him suffer as she had in that small room at the salvage yard.

She was angry with him—more than she’d been when he’d taken this assignment—but that didn’t mean she’d stopped caring about him. Loving him. Nobody, not even her worst enemy, deserved that kind of pain. She’d watched her mother endure it for years and had finally gotten the strength to put it to a stop. It had taken everything she had, and she wouldn’t give anything less now.

Because she loved him.

Because the best thing she could do with this life was to protect someone else. But Carson hadn’t seen her devotion to stop the pain of this world from touching those she cared about as selfless. His accusation, that she bulldozed everyone and everything in her path to get what she wanted, had left her feeling carved out and empty. She’d known what her former partners had thought of her. She’d heard their whispers and knew about their transfer requests. With Carson…she’d been different. She’d let him through her guard. She’d smiled more. She’d laughed. Their banter had kept her from spiraling into the nightmares of the past, and his touch had kept her warm.

But old habits died hard.

She could see where she’d messed up, like a long line of dominoes. Tip the first one and the others were bound to feed into the final outcome. The end of their partnership had been coming for a long time. The wrong turns she’d taken were clear as day as she looked back. By not fighting his acceptance of the undercover assignment. By keeping her distance when he’d brought back intel to Socorro. By telling him her safety and health weren’t his concern. It was all there, staring back at her in a mirror of failure. She’d just been too late to put a stop to the final domino from falling.

“You’re going to tear that steering wheel in half if you keep it up.” Granger Morais kept his attention straight forward, his laptop open as he provided the GPS info on their stolen SUV. But she already knew where they were headed. No matter what the tracking said. “We’re about a mile out.”

“We’re not going for the SUV. Send the coordinates for Sangre por Sangre ’s headquarters to the rest of the team.” She targeted each of the SUVs in her rearview mirror. Four vehicles in total with two police cruisers in the rear. She’d tried to convince Chief Halsey to stay with Jocelyn, but there’d been no persuading the man from getting his pound of flesh. Sebastian would regret the day he’d put his hands on one of her operatives.

The cartel would see them coming from a mile away. That was the point. To take a stand. To make a point. That nobody messed with Socorro Security.

“You’re sure that’s where this ends?” Granger was looking at every angle, every possibility. The idea of them showing up to an empty building was probably the worst that could happen in his eyes.

She directed her attention to the SUV up ahead. Angled off the side of the road. Abandoned. Except somewhere in the back of her mind she realized someone would’ve had to have driven it out into the middle of the desert. Someone most likely waiting to ambush them. “More sure than I’ve been about anything else in my life.”

Ivy grabbed for the radio velcroed to the dashboard and hit the talk button. She’d had Alpine Valley PD tuned in to their private channel in case they got separated. “We’re coming up on our stolen SUV. Be prepared to take on fire.”

Granger reached into the back seat and pulled his Kevlar from beside his bull terrier, Zeus. The dog was more fat than muscle, but when it came to protecting his handler, the K-9 never failed. Mostly by sitting on anyone who dared get close enough. The counterterrorism agent threaded himself into his gear. He leaned forward in his seat, studying their SUV through the windshield, then took the radio and opened the line. “Movement. Passenger side, back wheel well. Scarlett, that’s all you.”

“Understood.” The security consultant’s voice crackled through the line.

Ivy sped past the sitting SUV, then watched as Scarlett hung back and let Alpine PD, Jones and Cash pass. The SUV at the rear of the pack moved out of line.

Then the shooting started. The cartel soldier presumably responsible for ditching the SUV opened fire on the caravan. Bullets thudded against Ivy’s back window but didn’t penetrate, thanks to bulletproof glass and armored panels.

Scarlett’s vehicle suddenly sped up.

And targeted the back quarter panel of the abandoned SUV. The security consultant rammed her vehicle straight into the other. The cartel soldier was caught by the collision and thrown clear.

“What the hell is she doing? I wanted her to trigger the explosive. Not ram the other vehicle.” Slowing, Ivy brought the rest of the vehicles to a halt to assess the situation. She forced her upper body to turn in her seat. Waiting. The driver’s-side airbag had deployed in the rear vehicle.

“Guess Scarlett has her own ideas of what qualifies as ‘that’s all you.’” Granger didn’t seem surprised. Or worried. It was his calm nature that would get her through what was to come. “See? She’s fine.”

Ivy caught sight of her operator punching down the airbag. Scarlett shouldered out of the vehicle, not an inch worse for wear. In fact, a wide smile had taken over the security consultant’s expression as she hitched a ride in one of the other vehicles. Ivy turned back to the road. “I need to up her liability insurance.”

The radio staticked. “Am I supposed to ignore the fact Scarlett intentionally rammed another vehicle and most likely killed everyone inside?” Chief Halsey asked.

Ivy nodded to the radio. “That’s all you, Morais.”

Her counterterrorism operative fisted the radio. “Yes.” One word. End of conversation.

The hum of tires on dirt worked to settle her nerves as they approached Sangre por Sangre ’s headquarters, but she couldn’t trust that feeling. Not yet. Not until they had a clear read on the situation and Carson’s location. “Remember the priority.”

“I got it.” Granger thumbed bullets into the magazine of his pistol, laptop now angled sideways at his feet. “Get Lang out. Make sure Sebastian doesn’t leave. Easy as…Jocelyn’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.”

“Have you seen the amount of ingredients that goes into those?” she asked. “They are not easy. But, damn, are they worth the wait.”

He didn’t respond right away, the pressure of his attention boring into her as strong and slow as an oil drill.

“She’s going to be okay, Ivy. Jocelyn is strong,” he said. “She’ll be back in the field in no time.”

Ivy’s grip tightened all over again. “But will she forgive me for putting her in the crosshairs in the first place?”

Granger didn’t seem to have an answer to that.

A chain-link fence materialized as they drew closer to the massive man-made crater protecting the cartel’s hideout. It was a forty-five-degree angle down, but Ivy had prepared for this. “Hold on to something.”

She pressed the accelerator as Granger grabbed for the dash. They closed the distance between them and the flimsy barrier and blew straight through it. Sparks lit up as metal met metal, but the fence had never stood a chance against her vehicle.

The SUV instantly dipped over the edge and down into the bowl. Gravity lost its hold on Ivy’s stomach as they plummeted toward the basin. Four vehicles followed behind, all catching air as they launched over the rim and down. Her team had chosen to follow her into the depths of hell, and she would never forget it.

Ivy twisted the wheel as the SUV hit flat earth and got out of the way of the convoy behind. Within seconds of touchdown, bodies started appearing through the wide field of cars preventing them from driving straight to the front door.

Another round of bullets bounced off the vehicle.

Granger shoved the magazine into his weapon as he fought to stay upright from the wicked turns she was forced to make. “Head for the garage. It’s the easiest way in.”

She forced the SUV into a skid in order to get as close as possible to the entry point. All four vehicles behind her did the same, setting up a semicircle of protection.

The radio lit up. “Get inside. Alpine Valley PD will cover you. We got this.” Chief Halsey’s insistence told her he was all too happy to pick off as many cartel soldiers as he could.

Ivy responded. “Copy that. Try not to get shot.”

“Can’t promise anything, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Halsey’s patrol cruiser lit up, his voice registering over the PA. “This is Alpine Valley police. Put your weapons down and your hands on your heads. No? Okay, then.”

Return fire thumped through the windows.

Ivy and Granger took advantage. She unholstered her weapon, using only her free index finger to go for the latch, and kicked the door open. The driver’s-side door protected her from the spray of gunfire. She couldn’t advance until the bullets stopped. She couldn’t get to Carson and Max.

A length of silence punctured through her raised senses. She nodded at Granger over the hood of the SUV. “Go.”

Ivy pumped her legs as fast as they would go. The stitches in her side screamed and stretched, threatening to tear from the effort, but she wouldn’t stop. Not until she found her partner. They made it to the overhang of the garage and ran straight into shadow. It took a few seconds for her vision to adjust, but she refused to slow down.

“This way.” Granger took the lead as Jones, Scarlett and Cash brought up the rear with their K-9s in tow. All free of bullet holes.

“I was really hoping I would never have to come back here,” Jones said.

Cash moved to Ivy’s left side. As though they’d each taken position as her personal bodyguard. “Imagine how I feel. I blew this place to hell and back with C-4, and it’s somehow still standing.”

“Did you use the right amount? You’ve got to get the measurements right or it does no good at all. I’ve told you that a dozen times.” Scarlett was a little too buoyant for someone who’d just sent a cartel soldier flying through the air.

“Quiet.” Granger pulled up short at the single entry into the building. He raised a hand, beckoning them forward.

Scarlett’s twin Dobermans rushed through the door, and the other K-9s fought to catch up.

The team moved as one into the darkened corridor, and a dampness she didn’t want to think about slipped beneath her blazer. “This place is worse than you guys wrote in your reports.”

“You have no idea.” Jones switched the flashlight mounted to his pistol on. “I got something over here. Oh, hell.”

“What is it?” It took Ivy a second to get a visual as all four of her operatives crowded around some kind of mass in the middle of the floor. The K-9s were whining, shifting on their feet and circling. She saw the fur first. Then the watery black eyes staring up at her. Unblinking. Her stomach flipped as she lunged to put pressure on the German shepherd’s blood-matted fur. “Get Chief Halsey in here! Now!”

* * *

So this was what dying felt like.

Carson’s head skimmed the cement underneath him. Above him? He couldn’t think straight. Whatever direction, there was no getting out of the mess he’d put himself in. Strung up by his ankles. Surrounded by armed gunmen willing to pull the trigger with a single word. Nope. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not without a miracle, and he didn’t see Ivy and her team showing him any kind of grace when they burned this place to the ground.

Blood coated the inside of his mouth. He’d lost one of his back molars during the many fists to his face. Turned out Sebastian had been hiding more than his true identity all this time. An aging old man, he was not. No. There was a contained strength hidden within the cartel recruiter’s bones. Something Carson had never imagined.

And, damn it, he hurt. Everywhere. He spit the next rush of blood to clear his mouth. “Bet it feels good to finally be yourself, Sebastian. Hunting and killing those women must’ve been too easy.”

Except the son of a bitch hadn’t gone easy on Ivy. He’d done this to her. Tortured her, humiliated her, nearly killed her. Would have if she hadn’t bested Sebastian with her training and will to live.

“Easy?” Sebastian wiped his bloodied hands on the shirt of another soldier on the periphery. His voice almost echoed off the open two-story cinder block that had taken too much damage over the years. “No. Those women, they fought. They begged. They made it fun. You? I just want to kill you.”

It was the same room the war correspondent had been brought into and tormented for information concerning photos she’d taken over a period of three days—evidence of the cartel working in cahoots with a state senator. Carson had been powerless to stop it, and so he’d volunteered to take the place of her abusers. Holding back his strikes without giving away his intentions. He’d at least given her the chance to regain some of her strength, to escape. Thankfully, one of Socorro’s operatives had helped her survive. “Then what’s the holdup? You know who I am. You know what I’ve been doing inside Sangre por Sangre all these years. Why wait?”

Blood rushed to his head, darkening his vision. Lack of sleep. Lack of nutrients. Heartbreak. Possibly a concussion. They would all play a vital role in the next hours.

Sebastian finished cleaning his busted knuckles and turned his attention back to Carson with nothing but death in his eyes. “You know, I never married. Never had children. Building this organization took everything I had. The lieutenants I recruited became family. My soldiers, my children. We worked together to bring about change. To finally take what was stolen from us so long ago.”

Sangre por Sangre ’s founder—Carson still couldn’t wrap his head around that—withdrew a blade from one of the soldiers looking on. He moved faster than Carson expected. The blade stabbed through Carson’s upper arm. His scream failed to drown out Sebastian’s words. “Every single soldier I’ve lost in the past two years was because of you. Men and women who devoted their lives to my cause, who fought for me, bled for me and died for me. You’re going to pay for their lives. Slowly. Painfully. Then I’m going to leave your body in the desert for Agent Bardot to find. Then I’m going to kill another of her operatives. Then another. Until she has nobody left, and she’ll know the pain that you two have caused me.”

Excruciating pain burned until it overrode every sense Carson owned. He lost his control to the point a laugh escaped his chest. It rolled through him, gaining strength, blocking out the pain. Blood dripped beneath his shirtsleeve and tendriled over his collarbone.

“This is funny to you?” Sebastian asked.

“This? No.” Carson tried to shake his head. “I’m just imagining what Ivy’s going to do to you. Especially if she finds out you shot her dog. You have no idea the kind of hell you’ve brought down on yourself. On the soldiers you claim to care about. You think you’re some kind of protector. You have no idea what that word means compared to her. And I can’t wait to see you fall.”

A fist rocketed into his face. Carson’s body swung away from his attacker, then back for another strike. His head snapped back. Pain unlike anything he’d experienced before kept him conscious and urged his body to shut down at the same time.

He wouldn’t be able to take much more.

But of all the ways to go, he’d choose this a thousand times more. Because he knew the end result in his bones. He knew that Ivy would finish the assignment they’d started while they’d still been partners in the FBI. Despite his betrayal, she would remain the same woman she’d always been.

Valiant. Committed. Courageous.

He’d never been any of those things. Not like her. Carson had taken the easy way out. He saw that now. How going undercover within the cartel gave him the mask of hero, but Ivy had been on the outside. Fighting. Risking her team and her reputation and her own life. She’d earned a target on her back to protect him. How hadn’t he seen it before?

Their last conversation played on repeat at the back of his mind. He’d accused her of doing it all for herself. For the glory, to keep building a wall between her and the rest of the world, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. She was brave. Braver than Carson. He’d believed her inability to separate herself from their investigations over the years had built her into an unyielding, closed-off partner, but that wasn’t the case at all. The hell she’d suffered as a kid had led her to use her work to distract herself from dealing with the trauma. The grief. At ten years old, she’d had to shoot a man who beat her and her mother. How could he have seen her intensity as anything more than a way to ensure she never had to suffer like that again? That all she needed was for someone to choose her? Ivy Bardot loved fiercely. The proof was right there in the two bullets still cataloged in evidence in her stepfather’s investigation box. She risked everything in pursuit of holding on to the people who meant the most to her.

And he’d done the stupid thing and turned his back on her. He’d become a coward, so different from the times he’d come home with a black eye or a bloody lip because he’d refused to back down from the bullies who made fun of his mixed race.

Because he’d just wanted Ivy to choose him, too. To love him as much as he loved her. Losing his mother had taken everything from him, but Ivy had been there to step into that role of companion. And when he’d gone undercover and lost his constant connection to her, he’d tried to replace it with the very men and women who would kill him with a single order now. To live up to her expectations.

He’d relied on other people to love and support him without ever considering he could do it himself. That he was the one responsible for his own happiness. Not his mother. Not Ivy. Not the people he’d convinced himself could give him what he needed from within the cartel. Him. The realization hit him harder than Sebastian’s next fist. And he wanted to figure out how to fix it. To move forward without that external validation. For once, he wanted to find out what made him happy. Other people’s interests be damned.

Only that seemed impossible now. Hanging upside down in the middle of a drug cartel headquarters surrounded by soldiers ready to kill him.

“Unfortunately, I’m not the one who will be falling today, Agent Lang.” Sebastian nodded to one of the soldiers off to one side. His female companion stepped forward. “Get him ready. I expect Socorro is already on its way, and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Socorro. Ivy. Carson pulled at the rope binding his hands behind his back with everything he had left. Which wasn’t much. The threads didn’t even stretch as the cartel soldier waved two more companions closer to assist. “You knew who I was. All this time. You knew what I was doing.”

“Of course I knew,” Sebastian said. “How else was I supposed to keep an eye on my old friend Agent Bardot?”

Son of a bitch. Carson had served within the cartel to provide Ivy and her team a leg up in this war, but he’d only been Sebastian’s puppet. Putting Ivy and Socorro in danger. Drawing them into a trap. “You can’t win this, Sebastian. It doesn’t matter how many soldiers you throw at them or how many guns you buy. She won’t stop until you’re behind bars or six feet under.”

Sebastian wiped blood from the blade used to stab Carson’s arm on the same rag he’d used to clean his hands. “Don’t worry about me, my friend. There’s a reason I lured those Socorro dogs here.”

“What are you talking about?” Carson struggled as three soldiers braced his shoulders and started hauling him down. The world righted itself as they held him upright. They maneuvered him toward the corridor. Three to one wasn’t good odds.

“Let’s just say my focus is no longer on keeping operations moving or making more money. I’ve moved beyond mere survival.” The cartel founder smiled, easy and relaxed, despite the monster hidden within. “It’s all about the future now. I must thank you, Agent Lang. Without you, I never would’ve learned the identities of Socorro’s operatives, their protocols, their weapons preferences. You will be the reason Sangre por Sangre lives on to fight another day. Thank you.”

Carson hadn’t provided any of that.

“You son of a bitch.” He fought the strength of three soldiers as they dragged him toward the door. He didn’t know where they were taking him. It didn’t matter. What mattered was warning Ivy.

“Get him out of here, please.” Sebastian rounded a table Carson hadn’t noticed until then, turning a laptop toward him. Surveillance footage. Of the complex. And there, on the screen, a line of operatives making their way through the building. Ivy in the lead. “It seems our guests have arrived early. Let’s give them a proper greeting, shall we?”

Gunfire punctured through Carson’s shallow breathing a split second before Socorro’s private military contractors breached the room.

Ivy took aim at the man of the hour as her team and their K-9s filed in behind her. “Who shot my dog!”