She checked the clock on the bedside table. Six a.m. Now that it was morning, the mission they would be undertaking that night rode hard at the front of her mind. Like Edge, once she was committed, everything else took second place.
She mentally went over the meeting with Colonel Harding at La Cantina last night. They’d have what sounded like competent help to take on the cartel, as well as Markham’s well-trained soldiers. How many would there be? Would she and Edge, Harding and his militia be enough to stop them and end the weapons-smuggling operation?
She tried not to think of what would happen once the mission was over and she and Edge returned to Denver. She had already ended things between them. She wouldn’t reverse her decision. It hurt too much to be with him, to love him more every day, and then watch him leave.
Once the room had warmed up, she went into the bathroom, showered, and dressed for the day in stretch jeans and a navy blue T-shirt. They were meeting Harding and some of his men that morning to lay out the plan for tonight. Harding would have the details of the exchange—where, when, and what weapons were being smuggled across the border into cartel hands.
Edge hadn’t pressed the colonel for details of how he was getting the information. Sam Harding wore authority and competence like a comfortable shirt. The man inspired trust. It was as simple as that. Tonight, she and Edge would be following his plan. His information, his men—he carried the greater risk.
Her stomach was growling when she heard a knock on the connecting door, walked over, and pulled it open.
“Good morning.” She managed to smile, then paused at the odd look on Edge’s face, a cross between amusement and relief. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got company.” He stepped back to invite her into his room, and she recognized the handsome, brown-haired man with the smiling blue eyes.
“I figured you could use a little help,” Trace said.
Warmth slid through her, along with the same hint of relief Edge was feeling. The three of them worked well together. The odds of success had just crept higher in their favor.
“How did you know where to find us?” Skye asked.
Trace grinned. “I asked Zoe to ping Edge’s cell phone.”
Skye’s eyebrows went up. “Wow, that must have taken an extra dose of charm. Tracking down a coworker wouldn’t be high on her list.”
“I told her you two were heading into trouble and I wanted to help. That was enough to convince her.”
Edge closed the door between their two rooms—sleeping arrangements Trace clearly hadn’t missed.
“We’re damned glad you’re here,” Edge said, speaking Skye’s thoughts aloud. “The three of us make a good team, and tonight could be rough. We’ve got a meeting at ten a.m. with the guy I was telling you about.”
“Colonel Sam Harding,” Trace said.
Edge nodded. “We’re meeting Harding and his men to go over some fresh intel—a place called the Lady Bug, a local café. We’ll have time for breakfast before they get there.”
“Sounds good to me,” Trace said.
“Me, too, I’m starving.” Skye returned to her room to grab her leather bag; then they all climbed into Edge’s rented white Tahoe.
It was an hour later that Colonel Harding walked into the little café, followed by three other men, all of them moving with the confident, square-shouldered bearing of soldiers.
“There’s a room in the back Sadie lets us use for our meetings,” the colonel said.
Skye rose from the booth where they had just finished eating and followed Harding and his men into a private dining room with two long tables in the middle that ran the length of the room. Edge and Trace walked in behind her.
“They use it for Rotary groups, Chamber of Commerce meetings, stuff like that,” Harding explained. “The Desert Eagles meet here once a month, but we do training exercises at least every two weeks.”
“Sounds like your men will be ready,” Edge said.
“More than ready. They’ll do their jobs out there tonight. You can count on it.” He turned to them. “Pete, Clint, and Randy, meet Edge, Skye, and . . . ?”
“I’m Trace. Good to meet you all.”
The men mumbled a greeting. Pete was short and stout, with biceps like cannons. Clint had a shaved head and a sleeve of tats on his right arm. Randy had neatly trimmed blond hair and looked like a university professor or maybe a surfer, until you noticed the danger lurking in his dark blue eyes.
At the moment, first names were enough, so they all sat down across from each other at one of the tables. Skye noticed Edge sat down beside her, though he had to change places with Trace to do it. Two thermal pots of coffee sat in the middle, along with a stack of heavy white china mugs. They each took a mug and passed the coffeepots around.
“So what have you got?” Edge asked, filling a cup for Skye, then one for himself.
