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“Why not?” If she disagrees, now is the time to tell me.

My commitment to the CIA cost me greatly.

For years, I served as more than an informant.

It’s time they help me. “I want to figure out who’s involved.

I told you guys from the get-go. My company produces high-quality guns.

The people in our company are a lot like me.

They love the sport. They appreciate the craftmanship.

The last thing any of us wants is for our guns to get into the wrong hands.

That’s why I agreed to inform you on all of our international dealings.

I’ve even infiltrated meetings at your request. I don’t want to source arms to the wrong people.

That’s not the world I want to foster. Help me on this.

I want to figure out exactly what’s going on and who is involved. ”

“What are you requesting?”

“A full-scale operation. This is bigger than the feds realize.”

“Smuggling contraband on boats is done all the time.”

“But these are expensive boats that require financial backing. My gut tells me this reaches well beyond Sullivan Arms.”

“Let me run this up the chain. You’re an informant. Not an operative.”

“I’ve spent more hours on the range than any CIA officer.

Plus, I have Navy training, and I’m skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

I can’t imagine a better partner for the CIA.

And Arrow already works with the CIA, NSA, and FBI.

I’m a partner in Arrow Security.” If she runs it up the chain, someone will recognize my name.

“I’ll bring it all back.” She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts high. It’s disconcerting seeing my liaison in anything other than standard office apparel.

“I know you have at least one undercover ATF officer within our company. It would be beneficial for me to know who he or she is.”

“It’s highly unlikely there’s an undercover ATF officer in Sullivan Arms.”

“But—”

“You may be under the impression I know everything, but I don’t. There could be an undercover operative within Sullivan Arms, but knowing what I know about the ATF and the DEA, I’d say it’s more likely any undercover operative works for Morales in some capacity.”

After Sophia’s abduction, the FBI backed off the case because of an ongoing operation. They never shared the details, but Arrow’s FBI contact definitely mentioned an ATF undercover operative that they’d been worried about exposing.

Wayne Killington had been like family to me. He’d run both marketing and sales for Sullivan Arms. When I stepped away from the company after my ex-wife’s death, he’d expected to become CEO.

Only, he didn’t get to remain CEO. I returned to lead my family’s company.

I never comprehended Wayne’s anger. Had no idea he so desperately wanted the CEO role that he would attempt to create another distraction to pull me away from the company once again.

He will go to jail for arranging my daughter’s abduction.

Prosecution is busy building their case and preparing for their day in court.

And we’re still trying to understand his relationship with the people he hired.

Those people ultimately turned against him, and in doing so, exposed a gun and drug trafficking scheme.

A scheme that, based on my lunch with Victor Morales, continues.

“Has your security team found any more listening devices within your home?”

“No. But we still haven’t figured out who Wayne hired for his tech.” He had someone in his corner who was adept at hacking into security cameras and splicing video. My bet is that same person provided him with the listening devices to plant within my home.

“You need to exercise caution. These people won’t hesitate to kill.” I hear her, but there’s no choice. These people are working within my family company. The company my grandfather started and my father and his brother grew into a billion-dollar international company.

“Elsie, if the CIA doesn’t want to work with me on this, or doesn’t want to refer me to a government agency that will work with me, I’ll do it all on my own.”

There’s no reason to explain why I’m committed to tracking down every single person in this scheme.

It involves my family company, my product, and my daughter.

Wayne and his partners fucked with the wrong man.

And every time I look at my little girl and think about what those greedy, sick bastards did to her, I become more determined to uncover every single participant and to serve justice.

Back in the car, Fisher pulls out of the Holiday Inn parking lot. “Everything go okay?”

“We’ll see. I didn’t meet with a decision maker.”

Fisher nods. He’s former military. He understands.

“While you were inside, I was notified that Ms. Amara arrived at your home. Are there any instructions I need to relay?”

The San Diego buildings whiz by as Fisher prepares for another left turn.

The familiar methods of checking for tails almost make me smile.

But a vision of the therapist settling into my home has me pressing against my sternum.

I’m not sure what it is about her. All that dark eye makeup, but yet there’s a rawness to her.

A contradiction I sense more than see. Or maybe the pull stems from something as elementary as I am not exposed to individuals with edges as rough as hers.

She’s nothing like my circle. I don’t particularly trust her.

But I do hope she helps Sophia. I haven’t been able to.

“Just keep an eye on her,” I say to the front seat. Fisher’s right eyebrow raises above the line of his sunglasses. “She’s a therapist. I don’t think she’s a threat. But if you see any signs she might be trying to sell her story or something…”

“We can monitor her phone calls and texts.”

“Do that.” I pull out my phone and open the email app. “While she’s living in my home, do that.”