“What happened to code names?” Graham says. “I want my own name back.”
“Comms are secure for now. Once we get out in the open, it’s codenames only,” Ryker replies.
“Found something.” This is a new voice.
“Who the hell is that?” I ask.
“Ripper, ma’am.” The voice with a hint of Texas to it is kind and a lot less gruff than Ryker and Dax’s tones. “I found a money trail.”
“How much?” Ry asks.
“Millions. Maybe close to a billion. Still tracing. I’ll upload it all to the share when I figure out where it ends. Going dark to focus.”
I lean forward and touch Austin’s shoulder. “Why is he looking for a money trail? A trail to...or from where? How is that going to help Trev?”
My brother checks the mirrors as he accelerates onto the poorly maintained highway. “We’re not doing this halfway, squirt. The Loma Collectivo is going to end here and now. The CIA has been trying to bring them down for ten years. It’s what Trev and I were working on when Gil captured me. We were close too.”
“He told me that much.”
“If we can prove the Farías government is as corrupt as we know they are, we can stop them.”
“Won’t getting Trev out of The Crypt do that? And Luis...if he’s still alive? If I publish the truth of what happens there...”
“That’s not enough. We have to cut off their funding and expose how much they’ve stolen from the Venezuelan people over the past decade. It’s the only way to get the people on our side.”
“And how exactly are you planning on telling the people how corrupt their government is? He controls all the broadcast television in this country. All the radio stations. The newspapers.” Sitting back, I stare out the window as the lights of Caracas grow brighter.
“Leave that to Ripper and Wren,” Graham says. “Trust us, Dani.”
I do. Despite Ronan and Graham looking like they’re fresh out of college, Ryker’s scars and tattoos, Wren’s easy smile, and the fact that Dax can’t see, there’s a serious undertone to every word, every movement, every thought this team has.
They’ll get Trevor out or die trying.
* * *
Plaza Bolivar is filledwith people, and a part of me wishes Trevor had felt comfortable bringing me with him when he went to meet Leo the first time so I could have seen this under happier circumstances.
Graham links his arm with mine, and every few minutes, he leans in and tells me to smile or laugh or just look affectionately at him. Austin follows a few feet away, occasionally skipping ahead of us so we don’t look like a group.
“You’re doing great,” Graham whispers in my ear.
“Just keep your hands to yourself,” Austin says over comms.
“Dude, I’m gay. Back off.” The muscles in Graham’s arm tense, and I lean my head against his shoulder with a huff.
“Sorry. He’s always been overprotective.”
Austin’s voice in my ear is getting more strained by the minute. “You do realize I can hear you, right?”
“We can all hear you,” Ry says from wherever he and Ronan are. “Keep the chatter to a minimum.”
We spend another ten minutes milling about the square, and Graham and I even take a picture in front of the giant statue of Simon Bolivar riding a horse. It goes straight to Wren so she can put any faces she can identify into her facial recognition program. Austin’s wearing a bodycam, and that footage feeds directly to her too.
“Contact spotted,” Austin says. “Two o’clock.”
Graham steers us through the crowd and into a small restaurant at the far end of the plaza. As we pass the bar, I see Leo nursing a drink and leaning a hip on a stool. He nods towards the back of the dimly lit space.
“On your six,” Austin says, and Graham and I push through the rear door and emerge into a quiet alley. We can still hear the music from the plaza, but there’s no one else around, and Graham drops my arm to withdraw his pistol and drape his jacket over his right hand.
