And she was talking about much more than this mission and he knew it.
Start as you mean to go on, she told herself. Never let them see you sweat, and never back down when you’re right. She was right. She couldn’t risk having Kell see her as anything less than a woman who could aid in her own protection and that of her child, if there was a child.
And that, she guessed, was the whole reason for his distance now. There was the risk now, that she was carrying his baby. That she was walking into danger, refusing protection, and risking not just herself but his child.
Another child after he had already lost the first.
“Let’s get Macey’s intel and discuss how to proceed,” Reno suggested then. “And I would suggest that we do it in more comfortable settings than this foyer.”
“I’m going to need a drink,” her father growled, glowering at her as they turned and headed for the senator’s office.
“It’s too early in the morning for a drink, Dad.”
His brows lifted almost to his hairline. “Little girl, you’re not big enough to tell me when I can drink.”
“No, but I am big enough to tell you to remember your ulcer and your blood pressure. It’s going to take enough of a beating in the next few years, so you might want to baby it a bit right now.”
“And why is that?” he snapped.
Emily paused. “Because I’m not a little girl anymore. And I’m not going to pretend I am, for you or anyone else. I have a feeling that’s not something you’re going to deal with very well.”
She ignored Macey’s mocking, “He’s not the only one.” They stepped into the office and seated themselves.
Emily took a chair, directly across from her father. Kell flashed her a disgruntled expression before sitting on the side of the couch nearest her, with Ian taking the other side. Across from them, Reno and Macey took the other two chairs, with Clint pulling an extra chair in slightly behind her father.
“We can do this civilly?” Reno asked them all.
Her father glowered. Kell stared back with what Emily was beginning to suspect was icy fury.
A smile tugged at Reno’s lips. “Good then. I’m glad we all agree. Now, let’s see what we can do to throw a monkey wrench in Fuentes’s and his spy’s little game. It’s time to bring them down.”
Twenty
ELATION SURGED THROUGH DIEGO. IT was more exhilarating than any drug, pumping hard and fast through his bloodstream and nearly leaving him weak as he stared at the message on his PDA.
I agree.
Two little words. Such a simple phrase and yet it brought tears to his eyes, causing him to blink furiously to hold back his emotions.
He had given his son only the barest help in the past weeks, only enough to keep the girl alive but never enough to lead him to the bastard currently pinching at Diego’s nerves.
It was the perfect plan. The perfect weapon to eliminate the man who would see everything Diego had worked for destroyed.
He wasn’t a terrorist. He ran drugs and weapons, prostitutes and black market items. Terrorism wasn’t good for such commerce. It broke the financial backs of the very people he depended upon for his livelihood. His spy, and the terrorist Sorrell, would use generations of groundwork to destroy not just the Fuentes cartel, but the freedom the Americans enjoyed to buy his drugs, his weapons, and his women.
I agree.
Diego stared at the message for long moments before sending his own. He had to play this carefully. He couldn’t seem too eager, too excited. That would be a sign of weakness.
Your brother in arms secure. Proceed to Andover party. Delgado to be advised.
Diego had placed Delgado, his most trusted man, in D.C. to watch his son’s back. It would all come together soon. Sorrell had demanded the death of not just the senator, but this SEAL team as well. This team that included Diego’s only surviving son. The bastard’s demands were insolent, arrogant.
He had demanded it as though Diego were one of his underlings. As though he had the right to demand such things from him.
Snarling in silent fury, Diego turned to the monitor set up in the office he used. There, in the hidden cell, lay the friend his son was willing to sell his soul for.
What would it be like, he wondered then, to command such loyalty? To have such a friend that he would turn his back even on his beliefs to save him?