My blood runs cold, and I slam my fist into the steering wheel, the impact jarring my knuckles, pain shooting up my arm.
“Damn it, Little,” I mutter, my voice a growl in the quiet of the sedan.
Miles is stubborn, brave to a fault, but this isn’t a game. Those cartel enforcers—four hard-faced men in dark suits are inside the Knox & Rain building, and my binoculars catch them moving through the glass-walled office, weaving between cubicles.
They’re heading for the elevators, their strides purposeful, and my gut screams they’re going to the top floor—Knox’s office, where Miles is about to plant that flash drive loaded with Cole’s spy software.
I told him to leave if things seemed off. But he’s not budging, his loyalty to the mission—to exposing Knox and his Los Lobos ties—keeping him rooted like an old oak tree.
I admire the boy’s fire, but it’s got me terrified, my heart pounding like a war drum.
I grab my phone, my fingers flying over the keys as I send a group message to Cole and Max:
TRAVIS: Situation at K&R. Situation urgent. Your presence is required ASAP.
My pulse races as I hit send, knowing they’re across town, tailing a lead on the cartel’s boss. Even if they burn rubber, they might not make it in time.
The SUVs are still parked outside, engines idling, a bad sign—they’re ready to bolt. Miles is alone in there, and every second I wait feels like a betrayal of the Daddy I’ve promised to be.
I curse under my breath, shoving the binoculars into my pack.
I can’t do this alone, but I can’t wait either.
My Glock’s holstered under my jacket, a familiar weight, but it’s not enough to take on four armed cartel guys in a crowded office.
Still, Miles is my Little, my partner, my everything, and I’ll be damned if I sit here while he’s in danger…
I make the call—this mission ends today, one way or another.
I’m out of the car, the parking lot’s concrete cold under my boots, and I cross the street, my cap pulled low, blending with the morning crowd.
The Knox & Rain lobby is sleek, all marble and glass, and I flash my fake consultant badge at the security desk, same as last time. The guard barely glances up, waving me through.
My heart’s hammering as I hit the elevator, punching the button for the top floor. The tracker app’s still open—Miles’ dot’s moving now, toward the back of the building, where Knox’s office is.
My stomach twists. He’s going for it, right as those cartel goons are closing in.
The elevator dings, and I step out, my senses sharp, scanning the hallway. It’s quiet up here, the executive floor less chaotic than the open-plan chaos below.
Knox’s office door is ahead, closed, no sign of the cartel guys yet. I move fast, my boots silent on the carpet, and press myself against the wall near the door, listening. No voices, no movement, but Miles’ dot is inside.
I text the damn boy again…
TRAVIS: Get out NOW. Cartel in building. I’m here.
My thumb hovers, hesitating, but I send it, praying he checks his phone.
I’m about to slip inside when I hear footsteps—heavy, deliberate, coming from the stairwell. The cartel guys, moving fast.
My hand’s on my Glock, but I hold off, my mind racing.
If I go in guns blazing, I risk Miles getting caught in the crossfire. If I wait, they might beat me to him.
My phone buzzes…
COLE: Ten minutes out. Hold tight.
Ten minutes is an eternity. I take a breath, steadying myself, and decide: I’m getting him out, mission be damned. Miles’ life is worth more than any intel, any legacy.
