“Allí!” a reinforcement from the south shouted, pointing at Trees.
“They’ve seen me. Get out of here.”
“Without you? Fuck that,” Logan growled.
Trees pulled his gun from his holster. “Your father just got his daughter back. He doesn’t need to lose his two sons. You have wives and children. Go.”
Then Trees focused on the assholes surrounding the stables, aiming their guns his way. If he was going down, he was going to take as many motherfuckers with him as he could.
As the first shots rang out, he lifted his SIG, wishing he had Walker’s crazy accuracy. There was a reason everyone called him One-Mile. But Trees took out the closest thug. As the criminal’s head exploded, he turned his attention to the next guy, giving him the same treatment.
A bullet whizzed past his ear. He rolled to avoid another asshole’s line of fire and narrowly missed that shot, too.
Fuck, he was outnumbered and about to get tagged by a dozen different guns. If he bailed, they would come after him—unless he gave them a reason not to.
He gave it one last Hail Mary effort and took a shot at Geraldo Montilla. If the drug lord was going to make himself a target, Trees was going to aim for him.
His first shot missed. His second hit, ripping somewhere into the kingpin’s chest. Montilla went down where he stood.
Pandemonium erupted. Shouting ensued. Half the suits rushed to help their jefe.
The other half turned their weapons on him.
Trees thanked God for his long fucking legs as he jumped from the roof of one stable to the row north, crouching across shingles and tossing back potshots. If he could get to the last row, he stood a chance of escaping.
Just before he leaped, two guards climbed onto the next roof ahead and stood directly in his path, balancing on the pitched surface with sinister grins.
Trees’s gut dropped to his toes. He could take one guy out, no sweat. But the other one would blow his head off before he could fire again. Goddamn it.
But he didn’t have any other options.
He feinted and crouched, then zeroed in on the suit on the right, taking him out with a shot to the forehead. He moved as rapidly as he could, but by the time he aimed at the other guard, the goon had already locked him in his sights.
Fuck. He was a dead man.
As the thought zipped through his brain, another shot resounded. The gunman jerked and stumbled back. Blood splattered as he fell off the roof and plummeted to the ground, dead.
Who the fuck had killed him?
Trees didn’t waste time figuring it out. He jumped to the final roof. The rest of the guards swarmed in his direction, but the path between the hacienda and the open desert was clear. Moonlight dipped back behind the clouds, giving him some cover. He just might make it…
He leapt to the ground beside the body. Zy appeared out of the shadows and pressed a finger to his lips. Trees was grateful but not surprised that his buddy had bailed him out. He and Zy had kept each other alive in more than one awful scrape.
Zy tipped his head toward what looked like a garage around fifty yards in the distance, then disappeared behind some brush. Trees followed. They looped around the far side of the building, easing away from additional guards now coming in from the east corner of the estate. Pounding footsteps and heated shouts told Trees the guards had lost their trail.
Less than two minutes later, they approached the garage and Zy spoke into his comm. “We’re coming in hot.”
To his shock, no one was guarding the building. It wasn’t even locked.
Zy rushed in, weapon drawn. But Hunter and Logan had already dispensed with a quartet of guards inside and now sat behind the wheel of a souped-up Jeep—with a mounted fifty cal on the back.
It was a sweet fucking sight.
Hunter turned the engine over, and Zy pressed the button on the wall to open the garage door. The second the vehicle was clear, the elder Edgington floored it. Zy got behind the gun, blasting away anyone who gave chase. Then the desert swallowed them up and they headed straight to the meet point—and safety.
But Laila was still out there…somewhere, probably hunkering down with Victor. Warming his bed. Sucking his cock. Giving him her body. Trees wasn’t resting until he had her back.