“It’s the right one,” John said. “I’ve got teams moving on the cartel assassins as we speak. But it turns out that one of the targets is in Miami. We don’t have any other agents there, just the two of you. I need you to get to that attorney’s house as fast as you can and stop that killer.”
Dreya’s heart started to pound. Breaking into a building, hacking into a computer, and stealing a list of names was one thing. She had been stealing for most of her adult life. Going up against a cold-blooded assassin was something else entirely. She wasn’t trained enough to try that. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be that well trained.
She looked at Braden to see him frowning.
“There’s no way you can call the local police or the feds and give them an anonymous tip or something?” Braden asked.
“If we call the feds, there’s a good chance the killer will know about it five minutes later,” John said. “And if we call the local police, the dispatcher will likely send a couple of uniform cops to check out the situation first. You want to be the one to get two cops killed by putting them up against a trained assassin?” He sighed. “You know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was any other way, but we have thirty minutes at most to save that attorney. Probably her husband and two children, too. There’s no time to call anyone else.”
Braden must have seen the look of panic on Dreya’s face, because he took one hand off the wheel and reached out to give hers a squeeze. “I know you’re scared, but we can do this, Dreya.”
She hesitated, then took a deep breath and nodded. Shecoulddo this, because Braden would be with her. It was the only reason she would even consider it.
“Send us the address and everything you can on the target and the killer,” Braden told John.
“The attorney’s name is Barbara Herrera. She lives in Cutler Bay right off Highway 1,” John said. “I’m sending everything to Dreya’s phone now. But be careful. This guy you’re going after is dangerous.”
Braden spun the van around and was heading south before John even hung up.
“The assassin is six foot two with long, dark hair, and he’s from Argentina,” Dreya said as she tried to hold the phone stable enough to read. “His name is Lucas Alvarez, but he goes by the nickname Cabo.”
She skimmed the rest of his bio. “Oh, here’s a heartwarming tidbit. While it says that Cabo is proficient in almost all forms of firearms, he prefers to use a knife when he can. Great.”
Braden turned the van onto Highway 826. It was still an hour until the sun came up, but the road was already starting to get crowded. Braden weaved the big van through the maze of vehicles with the skill of someone who spent years driving in DC traffic.
“That’s good to know,” he said. “It’s something that could come into play if I have to get close to this guy.”
Dreya frowned. “You mean ifwehave to get close to this guy, right?”
Braden shook his head. “Dreya, this guy is too dangerous. When we get to Herrera’s house, I want you to stay in the van.”
“No way.” Dreya bit back a growl. “There’s no way I’m going to sit in the van and play games on my cell phone while you go fight a cold-blooded killer by yourself.”
His jaw flexed. “I’m a cop, Dreya. I’m trained for this kind of stuff.”
“And I’m your partner,” she said. “I’m not letting you go in there alone, not when I have senses and talents that can help you.”
“Dreya…” He swallowed hard. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”
If she weren’t so busy trying to convince him to let her do her job, she would have basked in the glow of those words. “Yeah, well, I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt either. So we both do this, or neither one of us will.” She glanced at the map on her phone. “Turn right at the next street.”
Braden gripped the wheel tighter, and Dreya braced herself for more of his macho crap. But instead, he surprised her by nodding. “Okay, but at least promise me that you won’t do anything crazy.”
She snorted. “Right. Like going after an assassin isn’t crazy enough?”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Braden stopped the van near the curb on the quiet subdivision street three houses down from the Herrera residence. The house was a two-story hacienda style with a stucco exterior and tile roof. The inside was still dark, but it was a workday, so there was a good chance that everyone on the street—including Barbara Herrera—would be stirring soon. If the assassin wanted his job to go easy, he’d do it now. If he hadn’t done it already.
“You think we got here before Cabo?” Dreya asked.
She couldn’t bear the thought that Barbara, her husband, and their kids were already dead because she and Braden hadn’t been fast enough.
“I hope so. But I guess there’s only one way to know for sure.” He turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “It’s unlikely he would have gone in through the front. So we’ll go around the back and see what your kitty senses tell you. If Cabo hasn’t shown yet, we’ll wait for him there.”
Luckily, the houses in the subdivision were far enough apart that she and Braden didn’t have to walk right by anyone’s window. When they got to the Herrera house, they found the gate to the backyard fence wide open.
Dreya sniffed the air. She didn’t know what Cabo smelled like, so she wouldn’t be able to pick up his scent, but she did pick up a smell on the early morning breeze that didn’t fit with the rest of the backyard smells—a strong men’s cologne. It could have belonged to Mr. Herrera, she supposed, but whoever wore it had been out here recently, which made her think it was more likely Cabo.
