6
February 17
Lafayette, Louisiana
Trees paced his living room with restless energy. Barney watched from the sofa with confusion. And he probably wanted more food, since he was a typical dog.
It had been ten long, fucking empty days since he’d returned from Mexico. Deke and Kimber were together with their children again. The family remained in hiding until they got some solid intel about whether Montilla had died by his gun.
The colonel had come to visit him at the office more than once to express his gratitude. So had Jack Cole, who co-owned Oracle with Deke. The crafty Cajun had jokingly offered him a job, then insisted he wouldn’t dream of poaching from Hunter, Logan, and Joaquin. But he hadn’t sounded like he was kidding at all.
Trees wasn’t interested in jumping ship.
One-Mile and Brea had tied the knot in a small ceremony this past weekend. Trees hadn’t attended. Pictures had been nice, but he hadn’t felt like he could watch two people in love tie their lives together without snarling. Apparently, he’d been surly since their return from Mexico and his inability to find Laila had dragged on. Go figure.
Zy and Tessa had moved in together. They were planning a wedding, too. Trees was thrilled for his buddy. Those two had endured a long, hard road to their happily ever after. They were great people with big hearts who deserved happiness. Which was exactly why the same would never happen for him.
Besides, he still hadn’t seen or heard a single peep out of Laila since he’d left Mexico. Every attempt to trace her had come up empty. Victor Ramos was missing, too, so that fit. They’d holed up together somewhere, fucking their brains out. As much as Trees told himself that he didn’t miss Laila, he’d give anything to be the lucky guy between her legs.
After he found out how and why she’d played him and he paid her back.
Since returning from Mexico, he’d been on a couple of short missions, bodyguarded a TV personality’s son during his drunken Mardi Gras weekend, and spent the rest of the time preparing for the moment he got his hands on his pretty backstabbing Latina.
Madison had called more than once. He hadn’t responded with more than a vague text to say he was drowning in work and would call when he could. He wasn’t fit to keep someone so kind and well-meaning company.
He glanced at the clock. Almost ten. He couldn’t take another fucking sleepless night, burning for Laila as much as he seethed to shake her and fuck her so bad he could almost taste it. He didn’t want to dream about her again. He didn’t want to fixate on her anymore. All the polite ways of locating her weren’t working.
Now he was going to get ruthless.
Grabbing his gear and his keys, Trees gave Barney a pet on the head, set the house alarm he’d had painstakingly rebuilt once the plate glass window in his living room had been replaced, then hopped into his Hummer and headed to Lafayette.
When he arrived at Zy’s apartment complex, he buzzed himself through the gate, using the guest code his buddy had given him. But he didn’t stop in front of Zy’s unit. Instead, he rolled two buildings down and parked, then made his way to the second floor, stopping in front of the door of Valeria’s safe house.
Trees weighed the possibility that Kane would let him in to see Laila’s sister. Since everyone, especially the bosses, had refused to let him even speak to her on the phone, he figured his odds sucked. He’d been nothing short of a growling son of a bitch for the past week and a half. With every day that passed, his temper only got shorter, his mood snarlier. On the one hand, he understood their point. His personal shit wasn’t their client’s problem. On the other hand, Laila clearly thought they were done.
She was fucking wrong.
He crept up the stairs to the second-floor apartment and hopped onto the railing. Six feet away was a little balcony that led to the main bedroom. He knew the schematic of the unit; he’d looked it up online. He’d also bet that Kane was bunking down on the sofa or in the unit’s tiny office. The bedroom would be Valeria’s.
Trees used the railing as a springboard and leapt to the balcony. He caught it with his hands, cursing under his breath. The wood needed a good sanding. Then he hoisted himself up and over.
Once on his feet, the balcony groaned in protest. Yeah, it probably wasn’t used to anyone hanging out here in the shitty Louisiana humidity, especially someone his size. But with any luck, he wouldn’t be stuck outside for long.
He yanked his multitool from his pocket. The lock was a little more difficult than expected. Someone had probably replaced it recently. But a few minutes and a handful of curses later, he peeked in, glimpsing Valeria dressed in black yoga pants and an overlarge T-shirt, leaning over a playpen, patting her son’s back.
As he pushed the door open wide, it squeaked. She whirled around, her eyes widening when she caught sight of him.
“What are you doing here?”
“You know exactly why I’ve come. I want to see your sister.”
“She does not want to see you.” Valeria crossed her arms as if that was the end of the conversation.
Wrong.
“So you’ve talked to her?”
The woman didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Trees knew. That meant Laila was alive and well. The relief that filled him pissed him off. He shouldn’t give a shit; she’d tossed her lot in with Victor Ramos, who had never wanted to love, honor, and cherish Laila for the rest of her life.
He was even more pissed that she was still able to communicate…and had simply chosen not to contact him.
Too bad. They were going to talk, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth to find her.
First, he had to get through her protective older sister.
“We have unfinished business,” he said.
Valeria sniffed. “You merely want to get her into bed, as you always did. From the first moment you saw her, I knew. It was all over your face.”
Trees didn’t bother denying the truth, merely opted for another tactic. “Aren’t you worried about her cozied up with Victor Ramos? He’s hardly a nice man.”
“Neither are you.”
“The difference is, I would never hurt her.” Maybe make her beg for orgasm until she screamed her throat raw, then withhold pleasure for the evil thrill of watching her twist and writhe for him, sure. But he would never truly hurt her.
Trees sensed Valeria thinking and pressed his point home. “She’s your little sister, and she’s playing with big criminals, warming the bed of a cartel bigwig. Aren’t you fucking worried about her? About what Victor will do if he decides he’s done using her?”
The small brunette crossed her arms over her chest, lifted her cleft chin, and paced to the other side of the room, licking her lips nervously.
Like Laila, Valeria was his “type.” Little thing with curves and attitude. But he wasn’t remotely attracted to the woman. There was something about her that seemed hard, her exterior shell almost impenetrable. He didn’t sense any hint of vulnerability, the way he had in Laila. He didn’t see pain or uncertainty in her eyes.
Instead, she sized him up and measured his worth.
“She is…no longer with Victor. She has not been for over a week.”
That shocked Trees to the core. He hadn’t expected Valeria to answer, much less to tell him anything useful.