LITMIR.BIZ

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unable to stop the rush of hope that swelled in his gut. She knew where Cruz was? He’d been trying for months to unearth the rebel’s location, and he’d come up empty-handed each time.

      If this woman truly knew where Cruz was holed up …

      He’ll kill me regardless … Forget about me, Robbie.

      Like hell he would.

      “And if you don’t want to go to his hideout,” Eva added, “all we have to do is find a way to contact him. Trust me, Hector will come to me if I make contact.”

      He didn’t doubt her. With that gorgeous face and sexy-as-sin body, Tate couldn’t see any man staying away from Eva Dolce. Hell, he was semihard just being in the same room as her. But common sense and honed instincts trumped the unfortunate desire she seemed to inspire in his body.

       Trust me.

      Yeah, right. He wasn’t about to hand out his trust to a complete stranger. Especially not one as beautiful as her.

       Not even one who can lead you to Cruz?

      The nagging thought was the sole reason he didn’t turn her down outright. He wasn’t about to admit it, but she was right about one thing. He wanted Cruz dead. Annihilated. Wiped off the planet.

      And he wanted it more than he wanted his next breath.

      So … to trust, or not to trust.

      Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he met Eva’s pleading eyes, then rose from his chair. “Where are you staying?” he asked briskly.

      She blinked. “Camino del Paraíso—it’s that little motel on the east end of town. Room twelve.”

      “I’ll contact you when I make a decision.”

      She shot to her feet, despair radiating from her petite, curvy body. “Please,” she exclaimed. “Just give me an answer now. I need you, Tate.”

      Shrugging, he shot her a sardonic smile. “If you need me that bad, sweetheart, then you’ll just have to wait.” His smile transformed into a rogue smirk. “Besides, don’t you know that anticipation is half the fun?”

      As her eyes blazed with indignation, Tate strode out of the room without looking back.

      “I don’t like it,” Sebastian Stone declared. “Are you sure she’s not messing with you?”

      Tate downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the ledge. “I’m not sure of anything. That’s why I’m running this by you boys.”

      “I think it’s a trap,” Sebastian said flatly. “They must have found us.”

      “Or they didn’t,” Nick Prescott chimed in. “And this chick really just wants Cruz dead.”

      Tate swallowed a groan. Nope, didn’t surprise him that Stone and Prescott were yet again on opposite sides of an issue. Stone said up, Prescott said down. Stone wanted to go, Prescott wanted to stay. Out of all the men he’d commanded over the years, these two knuckleheads were the most difficult, stubborn and unbelievably exasperating.

      But they were also loyal, intelligent and absolutely deadly when circumstances called for it.

      He glanced from one man to the other, his chest going rigid with regret. Two men. Eight men had been with him on that extraction mission in San Marquez. Only two were still alive.

      “Or she’s dangling a carrot under the captain’s nose,” Sebastian grumbled in reply to Nick. “The jackasses after us have to know that Cruz is his weak spot. This is all just an elaborate trap.”

      “The captain’s not an idiot. If it’s a trap, he’s not going to walk into it. But if there’s a chance to get Cruz …”

      With a snort, Tate held up his hand to silence them. “The captain is standing right here. Quit talking about me like I’m not.”

      They immediately went quiet, each one turning to gaze at the scenery below. Tate rubbed his temples and stared out as well, frustration gathering in his gut at the sight of the jagged brown peaks in the distance. The view, no matter how breathtaking, was just another reminder of how dire their situation was.

      This isolated old fortress was nestled at the base of the mountain, and had stood abandoned for decades; apparently the Mexican government had no use for a crumbling pile of stone left over from the Mexican-American War of 1846. But it was the perfect place to lie low, and a decent stronghold with its tall watchtower and handy tunnel system. Ever since the shack in Costa Rica had been compromised, they’d been searching for a new hideaway, and this place had been a lucky find. They’d been holed up here for three weeks now, living on the mountain like a bunch of hermits.

      Tate had thought the place to be safe, but clearly he’d been wrong. Because Eva Dolce had found them, and if she could, then so could the hunters.

      “I think I might have to work with her,” he spoke up, his voice thick with reluctance.

      Sebastian’s head swiveled around in surprise. “Are you nuts?”

      “No, just practical.” He shrugged. “I don’t think she was sent here by our government, but if she was, then we can’t afford to let her out of our sight. We need to find out who she is and why she’s here.”

      Sebastian made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “No disrespect, sir, but … don’t freaking patronize us. This has nothing to do with keeping an eye on that woman, and everything to do with avenging Will’s death.”

      “What’s wrong with that?” Nick interjected with a scowl. “Will was his brother. And he was my best friend. He deserves justice.”

      “He’s dead,” Sebastian said bluntly. “And wherever he is, I doubt he’s thinking about justice, and I seriously doubt he’d want us to risk our necks to get it for him.”

      Tate closed his eyes briefly, fighting a jolt of pain at the sound of Will’s name. Had it already been eight months since he’d watched his little brother die? It felt like yesterday, damn it.

      Sebastian was right. Will wouldn’t have wanted them to seek revenge. The kid had always been too softhearted for his own good, constantly preaching forgiveness, even when the person in question didn’t deserve a damn ounce of it. Like their old man. They’d endure a particularly brutal beating, and Will would wipe the blood off his face and say, Don’t be angry at him, Robbie. He just misses Mom.

      The memory had Tate gritting his teeth so hard his jaw twitched. Will might’ve been able to forgive their dad, but Tate hadn’t. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Will’s murderer walk free, not if he had the chance to change that.

      “You’re right,” he said, interrupting Sebastian and Nick’s heated argument. “This isn’t about Eva. It’s about Cruz. Christ, Seb, I want him to die.”

      “What about the others who’ve died?” the younger man pointed out. His gray eyes blazed with anger. “What about Lafayette and Diaz? What about Rhodes and Timmins and Berk?”

      An arrow of agony pierced Tate’s chest. Just hearing those names made him want to pummel something.

      “They were murdered, too,” Sebastian went on. “Diaz and his mysterious drunk-driving accident—that kid never drank a day in his life! And Rhodes’s cancer. Berk’s mugging. Lafayette’s—”

      “Enough,” Tate snapped. “I know how they died. Your constant reminders won’t bring them back.”

      “No, but we still don’t know why they died.” Sebastian rested his fists against the dusty stone ledge ringing the watchtower. “That’s what we need to be focusing on.”

      “The mission,” Nick said wearily. “We know it has to do with the mission.”

      Always came back to

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