Page 3 of Wait for You

The scout seated next to Mat continued reporting. At the same time, his thoughts stayed three steps ahead, plotting ways to use the information to the Rangers’ advantage.

He’d only been a Texas Ranger for the last three years, one of those undercover. Becoming a Ranger had always been his end goal, but he’d put in his time with law enforcement as a Special Agent in the Department of Public Safety’s Criminal Investigations Division. From the outset, he’d worked in CID’s Organized Crime Section. He’d had years to become intimately acquainted with the Mexican drug cartels wreaking havoc in the U.S. All the violence and death they wrought started and—if he had anything to say about it—endedin Texas.

It’s why he’d agreed to this operation. Ranger Company “B” didn’t have many Latinos, so he’d gotten pegged when they needed an undercover man.

He was only half. His father had been agringo. A ranch hand who turned out to be a real son o’bitch. After taking a liking to the Mexican kitchen maid, he split as soon as he’d learned of Mat’s existence. The only thing he had of the man was his last name. But Mat’s heritage meant he could blend in here using his mother’s native language.

His mom had been a tough one, but she’d been overworked and underpaid. Who knows how long she would’ve made it if she hadn’t died when he was a boy simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A convenience store shooting between rival gangs when he was seven. After that, he grew up in thesystem. Bucked it a time or two before setting out on his own at sixteen. Somehow, he’d managed to make it through school. Then, he’d joined the police academy.

One of his foster homes had cable T.V., and he’d spent every minute possible watching reruns ofWalker, Texas Ranger.Pinning on that star had always been his dream. Sometimes it still felt like one, especially over the last few months as his assignment dragged on and opportunities to wear the badge on his chest became fewer and fewer.

But he was close. His job had been to gain the lieutenant’s trust and locate the chemist for the Lazcano Cartel. The pill-maker was the key to taking them down.

Stop their drug production; stop the organization.

During the time Mat had been undercover, he’d spent it building up a case that would allow him to bring the Lazcanos to justice, ending their business inside the great state of Texas.

The clatter of pool balls colliding behind him nearly made him jolt. Since he’d woken that morning, he’d been on edge more than usual. He’d learned to trust his instincts, and the knots in his gut were a sign.

But of what?

The lieutenant ignored thesicariosplaying eight-ball on the table across the room. They were directly behind Mat, which meant he didn’t have the advantage of seeing when the balls would hit. That was intentional on the lieutenant’s part. Everything inEl Jaguar’soffice served a purpose.

The caramel-colored leather of the chair Mat sat in might feel like butter under his palms, but the smooth material was a trick. Meant to relax you enough to let down your guard. Even the wall of books behind the lieutenant’s desk was for show. Mat doubted the man had read any of the works gracing his shelves. They were there to dazzleorintimidate. Like the illustrated history of torture prominently on display. Perfect for keeping peoplenervous. He’d watched firsthand how a little anxiety could be the tipping point for a man to spill his guts.

“I need you to take care of this, Mateo.” The lieutenant’s dark gaze bored into him.

Mat met the fierce look with a nod. This was a test, then. Instead of instilling fear, it sent excited adrenaline shooting through his veins. If he gaveEl Jaguarwhat he wanted, Mat would be that much closer to shutting the whole thing down.

The lieutenant’s face twisted with a sneer. “I want to know who the fuck betrayed us. Find thehijo de putaand bring him to me.”

Thehalcónseated beside Mat audibly swallowed. The young man was one of many scouts who served as the lieutenant’s eyes and ears on the street. This one had reported on a raid byLos Federales. Mat already knew of the bust, though. He’d provided the information that led to a multi-county drug task force conducting it. With his tip, they’d shut down one of the cartel’s production labs, but there were more.

They’d succeeded in cutting off one of the spider’s legs. Now, he needed to find its head.

El Jaguarfisted his hands and brought them down on his desk. “Ahora!” he roared when no one made to move.

The lieutenant’s command of ‘now’ sent everyone fleeing his office like a terrorized herd, except Mat. He stood deliberately, buttoning the jacket of his navy suit with deft fingers before following. A man in his position couldn’t appear intimidated. He’d spent the last year working his way into the lieutenant’s inner circle.

El Jaguartrusted Mat enough to make him his right-hand man. Still, he’d only held that position the last three months after the previous man who’d had the job failed to meet the lieutenant’s expectations. His severance package had included a bullet to the back of the head.

Mat had no intention of letting that happen to him. So, he’d giveEl Jaguara traitor, just not the real one . . .

With his chiseled face set in stern lines behind his closely trimmed beard, Mat exited the lieutenant’s office, heading for his own set of rooms to think and devise a plan.

ThoughEl Jaguar’smansion was a veritable maze, he’d had plenty of time to learn its layout. Walking through the windowed corridor, he nodded to the garden help, misting a nutrient spray over a potted palm. It graced a corner in the hallway connecting his quarters to the lieutenant’s. The older Hispanic man refused to meet Mat’s gaze.

He didn’t blame him. Most people employed in the lieutenant’s household were simply trying to support their families and give them a better life than they’d had before they crossed the border.

He couldn’t begrudge them that, even if they knew who the lieutenant worked for. Unfortunately for them, they would be out of a job once he finished his. BecauseEl Jaguarwas going to prison . . .ifhe were lucky. If he wasn’t, the Lazcano bosses would dispose of him in their own way.

Picturing that outcome deepened the hollows in Mat’s cheeks with a savage smile. Anticipation of the end of his assignment quickened his step as he turned a corner into the hall that led to his room, running smack into one of the housemaids.

She was tiny compared to his broad, six-foot frame, and the impact made her stumble. Mat caught her arms and kept her from falling but the duster she’d been holding clattered to the terracotta tiles.

Glancing down at the top of her dark hair, he started to apologize. “Sorry ’bout th—” His mouth dried out, and words failed him when the maid tilted her head to look at him.

Reality exploded, and its force racked his frame with a visible shudder. Shockwaves resonated under his skin, scramblingeverything until his surroundings faded and his steadfastly maintained mask slipped.

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