Page 24 of Ravaged Hearts

“If I’d just given those assholes their damn drinks instead of standing up to them, maybe?—”

“No,” I said firmly, and squeezed her hand. “You did theright thing. What would Mari have done in your position? What about Javier?”

Hope pressed her lips together while staring into her lap, because we both knew they wouldn’t have taken any crap, either.

“You didn’t kill Mari. The cartel did. So don’t blame yourself for what happened. Not for one second.”

Hope nodded, but with weak conviction, and I doubted she’d reverse years of undeserved guilt at my insistence. The only thing that would help her move forward was destroying the Pacific Coast Cartel and ending their reign of terror.

After arriving at the airport and refueling the King Air, we took off and headed north. Once we’d crossed the border, we refueled just outside El Paso at a colleague of mine’s private runway. Then it was straight on to Montana. By the time we landed at the ranch, the sun was about to slip behind the ragged mountain range.

I shut the King Air down out front of a large hangar. It was one of three alongside the airstrip. Three was an excessive amount for any ranch, but housing our team’s aircraft, weapons, and ammunition on private property kept our operations away from prying eyes.

I opened the door of the plane, and the cool, damp air chilled my bones. Summer evenings in the mountains were a heck of a lot colder than Playa de la Palmera at any time of year, so before letting Hope down the stairs, I grabbed my leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Brandon and Sage waited beside one of the ranch pickups nearby and approached once we stood on solid ground.

“Brother.” Brandon offered me a fist bump, and I returned it. He was one of only a handful of people I could tolerate any contact with.

“Hope.” He nodded in her direction, and she gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Welcome home.” Sage shoved her hands into the pockets of her pink hoodie, then redirected her gaze to Hope. “It’s nice to meet you in person. Although I wish it were under different circumstances.”

Hope tightened the jacket around her. “Likewise.”

“All right. Let’s get you two to the lodge. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Brandon turned and headed for the driver’s side of the pickup.

Sage got into the passenger seat, and after tossing my bag into the truck bed, I opened the rear door for Hope, then followed her in.

It was a short drive from the hangar to the lodge, no more than five klicks of decent gravel road. While Hope stared out the window, I pointed to where a river ran through the property and to my cabin in the distance halfway up the mountain. Trees surrounded the solitary dwelling, but it had a commanding view over the lodge, a few barns, and cattle pens in the plain below.

Several hunting cabins dotted the more remote parts of the 110,000-acre property. There were also a bunkhouse and a smaller lodge where veterans came to stay as part of the transition program Brandon and Sage coordinated, but they were near the entrance to the property, roughly ten klicks south of here.

Hope faced me with a look of awe. “Who owns this place?”

I met Brandon’s eyes through the rearview mirror.

He nodded. “You can tell her.”

“Do you remember Dante Moretti? The billionaire asshole who briefly took over the Wolf Street Mafia a few years back?”

“Yeah,” she replied, sounding a little confused as to why I was mentioning the imprisoned former Mob boss.

“Brandon and Sage might’ve had something to do with his downfall. This used to be one of his family’s properties. Now, it’s ours.”

“Technically it’s owned by a conglomerate that conducts its banking overseas,” Brandon chimed in. “A forensic accounting genius couldn’t even trace it back to us.”

Sage rested her elbow on the center console and twisted to face Hope. “We stripped Moretti of every asset and slush fund linked to the Wolf Street Mafia and put them to better use.”

“You’re using the Mafia’s fortune to rescue trafficking victims?” Hope asked.

Sage nodded. “And not just the Mafia’s. We neutralize a lot of rich shit bags. Seems fair that we use their funds to care for and compensate their victims and to further our program. Usually, when we go after one target, it uncovers a whole nest of others, and you wouldn’t believe how fast they rat on each other under a little duress.” The devious grin on Sage’s face reminded me how much she enjoyed watching power-hungry douchebags cry.

“We’ve never been short of work, and I don’t anticipate that changing anytime soon,” Brandon said.

I braced my arm on the seat back. “Our team spent a lot of years being told by the government where to go and who to kill, and it hardly seemed like we were making a difference. Those missions were politically motivated more than anything, and half the time rules and diplomacy hamstrung us. We never got to go after the real bad guys. So nowadays, we choose our targets, and we don’t care if you own half the oil in Saudi or you’re best friends with POTUS. If you’re a piece of shit, we’re coming for you.”

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