Never again.

  9

  JEREMY

  My heart was still pounding as I parked the car in front of George’s home and hopped out. After days of uneventful investigations and combing through every bit of information on Benno I could get my hands on, I finally had a breakthrough.

  Should’ve known everything would happen all at once. That was how it was. You work diligently, but sometimes, you just need that extra ounce of luck.

  I’d hit that jackpot right before George’s call, prompting me to rush to his house.

  One look at him hunched over on his front porch and I knew something had gone terribly wrong. But if he thought his situation was bad, he’d have another think coming.

  We were in some deep shit. Much deeper than I ever thought possible.

  I made my way up the driveway. “So, you’re having a pity party on your front lawn, just as I expected,” I said, extending my hand to George and helping him up. “I’m sorry to be a hardass. But there’s no time for this right now. We have a meeting in”—I glanced at my wrist—“half an hour, and I need you on top of your game.”

  “What’s going on?” George asked.

  “Keys,” I said.

  He retrieved them from his truck, locked it, and tossed the keys in my general direction.

  I chuckled, bowed playfully, and picked them up from the ground. “Boy, you’re in one hell of a mood.” I closed his front door and locked it. “Get your act together before we meet the others.”

  That seemed to snap him out of his funk. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

  I nodded, patting his back. “Women troubles can be the worst. You’ll figure it out. This is about a woman, I assume?”

  He nodded and followed me to my truck. “Gracie was here and bolted after she met Marisol.”

  I sighed. Worlds colliding.

  “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  He shook his head and remained silent until we hit the freeway.

  “Why the impromptu meeting?” George finally broke the silence.

  I figured he’d need some time to calm down and gather his thoughts. Maybe I was right.

  “I was actually on the way to pick you up when you called. And I already knew your fake fiancée, Marisol, was back in town.”

  George inhaled sharply, his head snapping around as he glared at me. “You, what?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know before, so don’t give me that look. I followed Benno and overheard a conversation.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Overheard?”

  “I was still in the office when he got a call that made him…nervous. So, when he left the office, I followed him.”

  “You followed our boss?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. We both know something’s off.”

  George sighed.

  “He met with a guy I didn’t recognize. But I listened in on their conversation.”

  George looked at me as if I’d grown a third eye. “How?”

  I gestured toward the backseat.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “That, my friend, is a parabolic dish directional microphone. Great for long-distance eavesdropping,” I explained with a gleam in my eyes. I loved my little gadgets. It was so much fun to play with them, and sometimes, they came in handy.

  George chuckled and shook his head. “So, what did you learn?”

  “Benno is somehow involved with the cartel. They mentioned you and how Jorge wasn’t pleased with the death of his pilot. Then the guy informed Benno that Marisol was back. That’s pretty much all I got before the other guy started looking around all nervous, and I had to abandon my clandestine operation. Then you called, and I came straight here and called Richard to arrange an emergency meeting with Carter.”

  Clearly, all of that was a bit much to swallow for George. I could almost see the wheels turn behind his eyes. “So, I’m now persona non grata for the cartel?”

  I nodded.

  “And Marisol is back to keep me in check and under control?”

  I shrugged. Maybe…probably. Hell, if I knew.

  “And Benno is involved with the Sormiza’s, as well?”

  I nodded. It seemed that way, and it would explain his peculiar behavior and directives over the past few weeks. But why would someone like Benno, someone who had been with the DEA for so long, suddenly switch sides? Did the cartel have something on him? There were still many unknowns.

  “Damn. What do we do now?” he asked.

  I’d contemplated that during my drive over. The correct approach would be to involve DEA-OPR, the division that investigated misconduct within the DEA, but I wanted Richard’s and Carter’s input before taking that step. “First, we’ll meet with Carter and Richard at the sheriff’s office. Then we formulate a plan.”

  George nodded.

  It was the best answer I could offer even though it wasn’t particularly satisfying.

  When we arrived at the sheriff’s office back in Whitebrook, Richard ushered us into his office just as Carter arrived and joined us.

  “Can I get you something? Coffee, tea, anything?” Richard asked.

  Both George and I declined.

  “What’s the emergency?” Carter barked, seemingly not amused about being summoned.

  Well, might as well get straight to the point. “We’re compromised,” I stated and rubbed my neck.

  “You’re what?” Richard asked and leaned forward.

  “Compromised.”

  “Care to elaborate?” Carter said.

  I glanced at George, who shrugged.

  “Both George and I have sensed something was off with our boss’s behavior and actions regarding this case,” I explained.

  “And?” Carter, who’d been leaning against the wall, shifted his weight.

  “And today solidified our suspicions. We think our boss is in bed with the cartel, so we don’t know who to trust anymore.”

  “So, you came here,” Richard said and leaned back in his squeaky chair.

  They both seemed to enjoy our predicament. And it made sense. Here we were, a big, bad, government agency. And we couldn’t even keep our own house in order.

  “I need someone as backup for George. We don’t know what they know. We don’t know their plans. I need someone we can trust to have his back.”

  “We intercepted some chatter about that upcoming auction you’ve mentioned,” Carter said and focused on George.

  Another event looming in the future with us having no solid intel.

  “So, my team is knee-deep in collecting and searching through all the digital material. But Lucas could be an option. If he’s up for the job.”

  Lucas. Yeah, I had met him at the Oaktree and read his file. He had been a Navy SEAL, a below-the-knee amputee, although I distinctly remembered him jumping over a hood like he could fly. With or without two legs, he was an impressive individual. But it was George’s decision. He had to feel comfortable working with Lucas.

  “Having Lucas work with me would be a great addition,” George finally spoke.

  I exhaled, sensing some trepidation in his voice. Maybe it would be better to pull him from working undercover altogether.

  And with this, with the enemy infiltrating our own lines. Building a case against the Sormiza Cartel would be much more challenging.

  I looked from Richard to Carter. They both were all-in. And it made sense. Both had their women kidnapped and endangered by the Sormiza family. This wasn’t just about drugs—it involved the safety of the people they cherished. Guns, violence, human trafficking. Greed and evil operated right under our noses—for profit.

  This was personal for them. And it was personal for George, too.

  We wrapped up the meeting. Carter would speak to Lucas and would get in touch with us. And if Lucas agreed, George would introduce him as his right-hand man.

  If the cartel contacted him again.

  Big if.

  But at least we had a plan. A loosey-goosey one, but we were mitigating the risk.

  Next came the wait. And the upcoming memorial for George’s brother.

  A fallen hero.

  10

  JEREMY

  It had been a couple of long, tedious days without any real results when I arrived at George’s parents’ home.

  Mansion more like it.

  I looked around. I would’ve never guessed George was a trust-fund baby. But taking in the size of this mansion, there was wealth written all over the place. I got out and gave my keys to the valet.

  Damn.

  Valet-parking, another thing of the uber-rich.

  Given George’s down-to-earth personality, I would’ve never guessed his privileged upbringing. He’d stayed level-headed despite being on edge due to the Sormiza Cartel silence after that flight debacle.

  Maybe they’d decided lying low for a while was a good idea.

  Yesterday, we had a conversation after leaving the sheriff’s office, and George expressed his desire to end his relationship with Marisol. And fuck it, by the rate this investigation had deteriorated, it was the smart thing to do.

  And yet, I reminded him of the importance of his work and how that move could jeopardize the entire case. Hopefully, Lucas would agree to become George’s backup. At least with him on board, I wouldn’t feel like we were bumbling around in unknown territory, like half-blind drunks.

  Damn, Benno.

  “Hey, who pissed into your shoes?” a voice called out.

  I turned around and found Richard and Carter standing behind me while I was still standing by the valet stand.

  I hadn’t moved an inch and was completely unaware of my surroundings. Not my brightest move. “Hey, guys.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow and studied me closely.

  “What?”

  “Are you having a seizure? Why are you standing here scowling at the house?” Carter chimed in.

  Always great to hear you’ve lost your poker face in public.

  “It’s nothing. I just didn’t expect George’s parents to be…” I pointed at the house. “Well, loaded.”

  Carter glanced at the house, then back at me. “It could’ve been in the family for generations; a big house doesn’t necessarily mean they’re wealthy.”

  Great, now I was making assumptions about things. I nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”

  Richard patted my back. “Well, they are. Let’s go inside.”

  We entered through massive glass veranda doors. Tables and umbrellas were scattered outside, but few people mingled there. Inside, I stepped into an impeccably furnished room. The expensive rugs, art on the walls, and George’s mother’s jewelry all screamed wealth.

  We exchanged greetings with the Bryce family and made a beeline for the bar. Carter excused himself shortly after and approached Edith. She looked much better than when I’d last seen her at the compound. She laughed at something Carter whispered in her ear. Good to see her bounce back after all she’d been through.

  I’d gone through every file I could get my hands on of the infamous Mr. Caroz. The cover for Diego Sormiza—the senior boss of the cartel—which had been heavily used in the 90s when he worked as an informant for the DEA but had been put to rest after that. How was old Sormiza still using it without raising red flags left and right?

  Was it Benno’s doing?

  Benno had been with the DEA for a long time, but I doubted he had enough power to orchestrate all of this. There had to be someone else behind the scenes, someone pulling the strings for the cartel.

  I scanned the room until I found George, then followed his gaze to a petite woman. Pale and blonde, she looked barely of age. And vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t quite place her.

  So, this was who George was obsessed with?

  Gracie Bryce.

  His sister-in-law.

  A widow.

  The one who’d stolen George’s heart and had his whole life in turmoil.

  I ordered a vodka on the rocks and turned to Richard. “Let’s head over and say hello to George.”

  He nodded, and together, we crossed the room. Richard looked as uncomfortable as I felt. He knew a lot of the people in the room, shook hands, and exchanged head nods. But I got a distinct feeling that socializing wasn’t his favorite pastime.

  Counterproductive if you were running for sheriff. I wondered how he’d pulled it off.

  I approached George. “Hey.”

  It took him a moment to focus on us. “Hey, thanks for being here.”

  When our eyes met, I raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Gracie. Then I handed him the drink.

  George shrugged, sniffed, then took a sip.

  “Carter talked to Lucas, and he’s on board,” Richard said, his voice calm enough that it wouldn’t carry outside of our little circle.

  I exhaled and suddenly felt a lot lighter than I had a moment ago.

  “He’s going to call you so you can get to know each other better and discuss plans for his engagement,” Richard added.

  “That’s great,” George said, though his answer clearly lacked enthusiasm.

  Richard tensed, and I instinctually mirrored him. I followed his gaze and suppressed a groan when Marisol Alvero approached. She slipped her hand around George’s arm and plastered herself against his side.

  “Gentlemen, this is Marisol Alvero.”

  The enemy.

  “Ms. Alvero.” I nodded at her since she didn’t seem to want to let go of George. She looked just like in her file—dressed up to the nines, all dolled up. However, her eyes revealed a hardness that gave away her real personality.

  A cold-hearted woman in bed with a South American drug cartel.

  Marisol nodded in return, then turned to George. “Your parents want to introduce someone.” With that, she pulled him away from our little circle.

  “Excuse me,” George said, over his shoulder, and gave me an eye roll that I mirrored.

  “Who is she?” Richard asked.

  Well, if that wasn’t the million-dollar question.

  But this was neither the right time nor the place to delve into it. I shook my head, and Richard narrowed his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

  I exhaled. “His girlfriend.”

  Richard gave me a don’t-bullshit-me look. “Then why doesn’t he like her?”

  I tapped him on the back. “Long story. Why don’t you buy me another drink, and maybe then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. It was an open bar, and apparently, he didn’t find my joke funny.

  We took a few steps before my eyes landed on Dorothy and Edith. They were leading George’s Gracie through the room with a clear sense of purpose.

  I hadn’t seen Dorothy since Richard and Peter had rescued her from that damn gang, but she looked good. All three sisters looked good.

  I followed their path until my gaze landed on another woman.

  Everything came to a halt.

  A sudden chill ran through my core and exploded all over my skin as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice over me.

  I blinked slowly, then focused on her face.

  Her.

  The one woman who haunted my dreams.

  The one I had been furious at when I woke up and realized she was gone.

  The reason I had moved to Whitebrook in an attempt to find her again.

  The one I still tried to forget.

  “Are you okay?” Richard asked, curious, as he looked at me.

  “Who’s standing with Dorothy and Edith?”

  Richard followed my gaze. “You mean Gracie? Or Felicia?”

  “Felicia?” My voice came out strangled.

  “Yeah, she’s the fourth sister. You haven’t met all of them together, have you? They’re a sight to behold when they’re all together.”

  I nodded, feeling numb inside, but my mind was racing. And my heart?

  Finally.

  That word reverberated throughout my body and bounced through my skull like a bouncing ball from that 90s computer game.

  Finally.

  I didn’t realize I even moved until I was right outside their little circle.

  I stopped.

  “Feli…” My voice cracked. “Ahem, Felicia?” I took a breath. Her name rolled right off my tongue. Felicia. It suited her.

  She looked older, a bit worn out. Too much makeup on.

  But she looked the same, too.

  Kind, funny, gentle.

  My body hummed.

  Edith and Dorothy stepped to the side, opening their circle.

  Both had easy smiles on their faces, as far as I could tell in my peripheral vision because my eyes remained locked on her. Felicia.

  I saw the moment she recognized me. Her face turned pale, and her eyes grew wide.

  “Jeremy, hey. Have you met my sisters? Dorothy, Felicia, Grace, this is one of the men who saved me,” Edith said.

  “Ladies.” I took a bow like a complete moron.

  Dorothy stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Looks like you’re moving up to hero status in this family. First me, then Edith… Who’s next?”

  Next? It all began and ended with her. “Felicia, nice to see you again…”

  “What’s wrong?” George suddenly appeared by my side and grabbed my shoulder. “Jeremy?”

  I didn’t react, couldn’t react. Instead, I took her in. Her eyes, light green with golden flecks. Her freckles were hidden beneath her makeup, just like that night. But I knew they were there. I’d watched her sleep, stared at her beautiful face when the makeup had been long gone.

  Her lips formed a perfect O before her hand fluttered up, hiding her expression from my sight.

  Then I was pushed, which jolted me out of my fixation.

  “What?” I caught myself, then glared at George standing beside me.

  “What’s happening?” he asked again.

  “Nothing. Just reconnecting with someone I met a long time ago,” I said.

  “You know Felicia?” he asked, still unsure about the strange atmosphere between us.

  “We met a couple of years ago. Once,” I replied, my eyes returning and locking with hers.

  “Excuse us,” Edith said, linking her arms with Dorothy and Gracie as they moved away.

 

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