Page 12 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

He nodded. Maybe taking someone the kid trusted would keep the situation calm.

A sharp nod from me in return, then I kept my gaze fixed on the scene. It seemed the kid and the woman spent most of their time in that suite of rooms and the fenced-in yard. Easier to keep tabs on them. Our plan was to enter a little before dawn, when everyone was at their quietest. We’d already discussed getting the kid out and not returning if either of us was compromised, in order to ensure a safe rescue.

Armed guards patrolled outside the building. We noted arrivals and departures of others, the latest, arriving just before three p.m., was a Humvee, with a short, dark-haired man in jeans and a leather jacket—fuck—this was August Fox aka Aubrey Mitchell, the undercover guy. I felt Luca tense next to me—he wasn’t supposed to be here. We had no intel that he was going back into the compound.

“We have eyes on,” Simon said in my ear, and Luca’s. “No intel on this.”

Through the lenses, I watched August across the expanse separating us, and I could see him staring at something, not quite in our direction, but close. Then, his head tilted downward, a contemplative gaze suggesting he was lost in thought, maybe even carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. It was a rare moment, capturing a man who, at first glance, was unaware and unguarded. I knew he was a Navy SEAL, aware he had medals, distinguished service, the whole enchilada, but what I’d seen then was a broken man, and I adjusted the focus, sharpening the image as I took in the details. There was a rawness to him, a silent intensity that made me pause. He was playing the part of a ruthless killer and a player in human trafficking, but for a moment, I swore I saw vulnerability.

I lowered the binoculars, considering the man before me. I knew men like him, had served with SEALs before, had been in the trenches with them. Like us, or anyone in the military, they were the kind of men who carried their scars on the outside with pride, but hid the internal scars well, facing demons in the silence of their own minds.

August knew James’s daughter was a short distance away in that building—it must’ve killed him to be that close to a child in danger. I continued to observe—watching, waiting, gathering intel—and I made a mental note of everything I saw of him and around him.

Luca tapped my hand, and we had a silent conversation.

He shouldn’t be here at the compound. That wasn’t the plan.

I know.

Bad timing, and comm only went one way with him, plus Simon said August’s last contact with Sanctuary had been over a week ago. We couldn’t give August a heads-up on what we were doing, but we’d deal with that when we got there.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, we buried deeper into the undergrowth, waiting until dawn came calling. We’d use the early hours to our advantage, less activity and better cover. As night fell and the compound grew quiet, the goals of our mission were right there—we were here to bring a child to safety, and nothing was going to stop us.

Chapter Four

AUGUST

I leaned against the cold wall of the compound, cursing under my breath. The fact I was here, under the watchful eye of my fellow lieutenants, their foot soldiers facing off against mine, and with Amos outside the concrete building, meant something was wrong.

“The reason we’re here?” Eli asked.

“Called me off a fucking job,” Diaz spat.

“This had better be good,” I added my part, and the three of us, our people ranged behind us now, faced off with Amos.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Amos said, shivering in a thin T-shirt and wringing his hands. He was flanked by two of the cartel’s meanest bodyguards, aka Dumb and Dumber, all brawn and little brains. “I don’t want to…” He backed away, but one of the guards gripped his arm and shoved him forward, letting him fall to his knees without stopping the momentum.

“The fuck?” Eli snapped. Next to me, Diaz was silent, as if he scented change in the air. What was Amos doing in the dirt, crying, scrambling to stand? I had nothing on him, other than he ran comm for the cartel and was the mouthpiece, that he was easily spooked and didn’t belong here.

Amos stood upright and clenched his fists at his side as he threw an accusing glance back at Dumb, who’d been the one to push him. Both Dumb and Dumber had their weapons drawn, loose at their sides, but they had an advantage on the rest of us, who had their guns holstered. Behind me, there was whispering, confusion in the ranks, nine men and one woman ranged around the three lieutenants.

“He said…” Amos began in a trembling voice. “He has evidence…”

“Evidence of what?” Eli asked, a touch of fear in his tone.

I didn’t know why he was scared, unless he thought the man at the top had found out he’d been skimming from the deliveries. Diaz still hadn’t shifted position, but he was rigid. Waiting. And the thinly veiled assertion of control from the unknown person behind the cartel grated on my nerves.

“One of you is our mole; one of you is leaking locations.” Amos pointed at the three of us, then scurried behind Dumber who rolled his eyes.

Diaz rested his hand on his weapon. Eli let out a choked laugh.

“We’re the ones left,” Eli said and cleared his throat.

I stayed silent, but behind the three of us, the crews were restless. A bullet to the brain was the usual result of confrontations, and tensions between the three crews were already high, the fear of the arrests trickling down, and now Amos was delivering messages. All it would take was for one of us to fall, and the crews would turn on each other. Each crew knew if their lieutenant was killed, they wouldn’t be far behind.

I pushed my thumbs into my belt, relaxed.

“Who!” Eli demanded, and this time, the fear was obvious. “I didn’t say a fucking thing.”

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