“Yeah, and I don’t want the head of the Cuban mob in Miami putting me on his most wanted list.”
Billy nodded. “That would not be good. Rodriguez will definitely kill him if he finds out he’s been busted by the cops. On principle alone. He can’t have somebody close to him in any manner be arrested and then let him back into the inner circle. It’s one thing for the street dogs to get picked up—it’s a whole other ballgame when it’s this guy. The target on his back is massive.”
Drew let out a breath. “Okay, well, you know the drill. Call the doc and the lawyer, get everybody on board to see if we can help him. And then we’ll have to figure out where we can stash him permanently. Let me know if anything else comes up.”
“Will do. I got some ideas. I already got Wallace working on it. You know that man is thorough.” His smile was soft. “We’ll let you know what we come up with.”
“Thanks, Billy. I owe you.”
“You always do,” he said, giving her a wink, and then went around the side of his pickup and climbed in.
Drew got into her SUV and let her body relax into the Porsche’s leather seats. She blew out a long breath.
Cross Morgan.
It was a name she hadn’t let herself say, let alone think, since he’d broken her heart a year and a half ago. He had told her she was just too much to deal with. Too fucking much—that’s what he’d said. He couldn’t be overseas on his ops while still worrying about her. She’d told him he didn’t have to worry about her; she’d take care of herself. But he’d said no—she was just too freaking much, and he needed to focus.
So, she’d broken up with him.
Rather, he’d broken up with her.
Drew pulled up her sleeve and glanced at the tattoo she had on the inside of her wrist.
Enough, it read.
Just enough.
And that was her message to herself. She was enough in every way that mattered. Never too much. Never not enough.
Exactly enough.
She yanked her sleeve back into place, rolled the car into gear, and headed for home.
Whatever problems Cross had, they had nothing to do with her. She was staying adamant.
He could take care of his own damn self.
CHAPTER 3
Drew rolledover for the zillionth time and glanced at the clock. 4:03 a.m. She huffed out an exasperated breath. There was no way she was getting to sleep.
She threw her legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and went to have a cool shower—not that her apartment was hot; she’d cranked the AC before she crawled between the sheets. A trick that normally worked, but not today.
After drying off, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and went to sit in her living room.
The thought that Cross was in trouble haunted her. She shouldn’t get involved. Didn’t want to give a shit about his situation. She wanted nothing to do with him. He’d crushed her heart and shattered her world. It had taken ages to put herself back together. Billy and Wallace had been a big part of the process.
But. Cross had meant the world to her… once. And she knew he was still tight with her brother and sister. If she didn’t warn him and something happened, she wasn’t sure she could live with the guilt or the anger and disappointment from her brother McGuire. Her sister was always disappointed with her, so that would be nothing new.
She blew out a breath. It didn’t matter that Cross had destroyed her soul when he’d broken her heart. It mattered what she could live with. It had taken her a long time to realize that what she wanted and how she felt was the most important thing. She now lived her life based on that concept. Like helping Dunlop. Even if Rodriguez weren’t a factor, she would’ve helped the goofy man because she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she’d sent him out on his own to die.
She picked up her phone and hit her sister’s cell number. Savannah: the know-it-all of the family. Intelligent, articulate, sleek, working in the upper echelon of the government, with access to the Oval Office. Yeah, her sister Savvy. Hard to live in the shadow of someone like that.
Drew swallowed and waited for the call to be picked up. But the phone just rang. When the ringing rolled to voicemail, Drew canceled the call, relief washing over her. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped her brother’s number. Same deal. It rang and rang and rang—and went to voicemail.
A fleeting moment of concern entered her psyche.
Several months ago, she’d thought her siblings were dead. Savannah had deemed it necessary not to tell her that they had survived because there was some sort of bizarreness with their latest mission. Whatever. Savannah was Savannah. Savvy was always going to do what she thought was best, and it didn’t matter about anybody else.
