Page 6 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

Well, the ones I hadn’t taken out, anyway.

“Stay here,” I ordered the soldiers in my vehicle.

Not a single one argued—there was no loyalty in any of them.

My boots crunched on the gravel path leading through the heart of the compound. I did my usual checks, but nothing had changed since the last time. High-security fencing enclosed the site, topped with barbed wire—a reminder of the nature of the operations run here. At the top end stood a two-story building, utilitarian in design, but the epicenter of the cartel’s illicit activities. As I approached, I could feel the weight of surveillance on me, cameras covering every angle. The place was more than a hub; it was where the brains of the operation were focused, and orders were given.

The atmosphere inside buzzed with quiet intensity. Screens lined one wall, glowing with feeds from various cameras and data streams. The air was thick with the hum of computers and the low murmur of voices. Rooms branched off from the main hall, each with locked doors I wished I could get past.

And then there was Amos, the comm for the faceless authority running this entire operation. A small, wiry, nervous man, he was always on edge, as if he expected the walls to crash down on him at any moment. Diaz had a way of getting under his skin, using his intimidating presence to make Amos even more jittery. But despite his nervous disposition, Amos was the linchpin in the distribution of assignments, and given he was the link between us and whoever ran this, no one touched him.

Diaz toyed with him, stepped up in his space, intimidated him, and if Amos wasn’t as much a part of this as the rest of them, I could almost feel sorry for him. Still, give him his due, Amos stood his ground, and finally, with a huff, Diaz took a seat.

I watched as he handed out orders, his gaze never settling, flicking to Diaz, then Eli, then always to me for the longest time. Maybe he thought I respected him, but every interaction with him was a calculated dance, a game of me giving him enough respect to get what I needed without arousing suspicion. Amos kept secrets and had knowledge about the workings of this criminal enterprise, and when everyone else had been dealt with, I would shake the information out of him. It wouldn’t take much to break a man afraid of his own shadow.

At one point, I’d managed to plant a bug in one of the key areas of this place, but it was long past viable, not feeding any intel at all, and for all I knew, it’d been destroyed or was lost. Putting it out there had been a risk, but one that had paid off, providing Sanctuary with valuable insights and more, for them to pass on and cut away at most of the hierarchy of the cartel. Eli, Diaz, and me left standing.

The way I wanted.

Brennan the worrier, who covered any deal with stress.

Diaz the loose cannon, who made me look good.

“And you, Mitchell.” Amos cleared his throat. “How do you plan to fix things?” Amos asked me, glancing up from a tablet holding all kinds of statistics.

“How about we talk to the head of this organization and strategize?”

Amos’s eyes widened. “He’d hate that,” he said.

Well, that was more than I’d had before. Head person was male.

“Seems like there isn’t much left here,” Diaz snapped. “Might be nice to know what the fuck is being done to protect us.”

Amos blinked at Diaz, took a slow step back, glanced at me, and then down to his notebook. “Um, Mitchell, back to you. We had buyers, and the twenty-one kids you lost was a big hit.”

Twenty-one children, rescued by Sanctuary with my help.

Children.

“I’ve got a couple of ideas,” I said, keeping my voice even. Inside, my mind raced, calculating the safest bet that wouldn’t blow my cover or jeopardize the mission.

“First,” I continued, “we reroute the next shipment through a different channel. I’ve got contacts in Chicago who can get us through without the heat we’ve been seeing here.” It was a risky play, suggesting a change in operations, but it was also the kind of bold move they expected from someone in my position.

Amos’s eyes widened, and he threw me a considering frown. “He’ll ask me how you can guarantee this new route won’t end the same way?”

I met his gaze, unflinching, and then, threw him a smile, which he almost returned. I caught something in his expression. Was it interest? I could work with that.

“Because the security for this won’t be down to some asshole like Danvers. I’ll personally oversee the operation. I’ll make sure it gets to where it needs to go.” It was a bold statement, but it showed initiative and willingness to take responsibility, traits this fucking nest of vipers valued.

“And the second idea?” he asked and cleared his throat.

This one was going to be harder to sell, but it sounded as if I knew my shit. “We expand our local operations,” I said. “Diversify. If we spread out our activities, it reduces the risk of another major loss. It's about diversifying our options instead of relying on just one.” This was a more strategic play, appealing to any sense of business acumen.

Amos was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded. “‘Diversify’.”

“If you want, I can explain it to him direct,” I pushed, with a shrug, as if the answer didn’t matter.

“I—I’ll tell him,” Amos muttered, and scribbled something in his notebook. Only, I saw his tell—when Amos said he’d pass on the information, he’d inclined his head slightly, as if he was suggesting that person was somewhere in this huge, sprawling, protected place. Finally, I was close.

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