Chapter 5
Bullets tore through the cabin wall like it was made of paper. Cross sheltered his head from splintering wood and cursed. “What the fuck?” Shards rained down as he yanked Drew behind the couch. Another round punched through the window, shattering glass across the floor.
“Well,” Drew muttered, shaking a sliver off her arm, “you sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.”
Cross gave her a look. “Didn’t know I was expecting company. You invite the welcoming committee?”
She snorted. “Not exactly.”
Another burst of gunfire slammed into the side of the cabin, louder this time—closer. “Stay down,” Cross growled as he commando-crawled to the edge of the window, sticking his head up just enough to get a look.
“Wasn’t like I was going to stand up or anything,” Drew retorted, then covered her head as more wood splintered above her.
Cross couldn’t make out much, but there were at least two shooters, maybe more. A burst of light from a shooter lit up Octavio Rodriguez’s face. “Fuck. Rodriguez.”
“Yeah, I hear you helped his girlfriend run, and now he wants your ass. He’s a bit clingy, apparently,” Drew called with a smirk.
Cross shook his head. “No, I mean Rodriguez is here. He’s outside. The goons shooting at us are his.”
“At you,” Drew corrected. “He doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Another volley of gunfire ripped through the cabin. It was high but the wood still splintered and rained down on them. “Why is Rodriguez here?”
Cross ducked back down. “You seem to know more than I do about the whole situation. You tell me?”
Drew shook her head. “No, I mean I was told he hired people to get you and bring you back dead or alive, preferably alive. So why is he here?”
“Octavio Rodriguez is not known for his patience. My guess is he wants to pull the trigger himself.”
“Hm, Dunlop got it wrong. Why am I not surprised?” She let out a tiny yelp as another volley of shots hit the cabin.
Cross crawled back toward Drew, keeping low to avoid getting his ass shot off. “Who the hell is Dunlop?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Now, it might be a good time for a plan. They won’t stay out there forever.”
“Cross Morgan,” Rodriguez yelled. “You need to come out here so we can talk, amigo.”
Drew frowned. “How does he know he hasn’t killed you?”
Cross gave a small shrug. “They were shooting fairly high. My guess is they figured I hit the ground and stayed there. This was all just to scare me.” He was more worried about how Rodriguez found out who he was and where he lived.
That fact was downright scary. Who the fuck gave him that information?
“Still, they could’ve hit you,” Drew pushed.
“He’s desperate to find Tessa, his girl.
This is all about saving face. He needs to kill me and Tessa so he can look like he isn’t a walking dick.
He’s willing to take risks to make it happen.
” Cross didn’t say it out loud, but he also knew that if Rodriguez was willing to come in loud and hot, then he must know how Tessa really is. This isn’t just about some girlfriend.
Drew continued to frown as if it didn’t make sense to her.
“Morgan, you asshole, you need to come have a chat. You won’t like it if my men have to come in and get you,” Rodriguez snapped. “Where’s the puta you said was here?” Rodriguez demanded, obviously talking to someone else.
Another voice floated across the yard and through the holes in the side of the cabin. “Don’t know. I was sure she was in there. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe Morgan killed her.”
“Puta,” Rodriguez yelled, “I’ll pay you a hundred K if you bring Morgan out to me.”
“Isn’t he a charmer?” Drew snorted. “Because calling me a whore definitely makes me want to help him.”
“He’s counting on the hundred K to help you make up your mind. Does that other voice belong to Charlie?”
Drew nodded. “Another charmer.”
“Puta, a hundred K is a lot of money. You need to do the smart thing. Bring Morgan to me. If you don’t, I am gonna take it as you’re helping him, making you the enemy. You don’t want me as an enemy.”
“Maybe she’s dead,” Charlie said again.
“She better be, because if she’s helping that asshole, then she’s dead anyway.”
That statement made Drew freeze for a moment as the truth of the situation appeared to hit home. Her eyes narrowed. “Fuckin’ Charlie,” she mumbled.
Cross noted that Drew had gone slightly pale.
He still wasn’t sure why she was here but whatever it was, she hadn’t counted on becoming the enemy of one of the meanest mob bosses in Miami.
He ground his teeth. That was on him. Cross was now responsible for Drew’s safety, whether she liked it or not.
There was another particularly loud volley of shots, and then the silence was suddenly deafening.
“What the hell is going on?” Drew hissed.
“They’re reloading and moving in. I’m sure we’re surrounded.” Cross weighed his options. He could fight, but there were too many of them. Even with Drew’s help, they were way outnumbered. No, it was time to cut and run. Live so they could fight again another day.
“We’re going to have to make a break for it.”
“Have you fucking lost your mind?” Drew snarled. “We don’t have a hope. There are way too many of them.” She glared at him.
“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in talking to Rodriguez. He’s gonna want to know where Tessa is, and I’m not gonna tell him, so it will all turn to shit pretty quickly.”
Drew tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t peg you for the type to fall for cartel girls. Was she just that hot, or do you have a thing for dangerous women?”
“It’s not like that,” he snapped. Now wasn’t the time to get into it. As part of an off-the-books team that worked for the Brotherhood Protectors, he wasn’t big on chatting about his missions to anyone, especially his ex-girlfriend.
“Oh, sure.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You’re willing to take on the largest mob boss in Miami for every pretty girl.”
Cross bit down hard on the urge to snap back.
Drew had no idea. And he wasn’t about to tell her that the girl he’d rescued was the little sister of his old SEAL teammate as well as an Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives agent.
He’d promised to look out for Tessa when his old teammate died.
That was all it had ever been. He didn’t owe Drew an explanation.
Even if the flash of jealousy in her eyes cut through him like a blade.
Could she still have feelings for him? He didn’t even want to think about that.
“Come on,” Cross said, crawling toward the back of the room. He flipped back the rug and yanked up a wooden hatch. A small cloud of dust and a piney, earthy scent wafted up. “We’re going down.”
“Down?” Drew echoed, incredulous. “Into that?”
“Unless you want to play the target for their practice, yeah.”
He reached for her hand, but she stayed rooted in place. Her eyes flicked toward the hole. For half a second, her face went pale. Not just pale—drained of all color.
Shit. He recognized that look. Fear. Quiet. Controlled. But it was there.
“Drew…” he said, his voice dropping.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, already moving. She swung her legs into the opening and slid down the metal rungs like she did it every day.
Cross followed, pulling the hatch closed, stopping just shy of shut to readjust the rug as best he could above them, just as another round cracked through the wall.
The escape tunnel was barely four feet high, lined with rough boards and packed earth.
Dark. Stuffy. Smelled like damp leaves and old mud.
Water ran down the walls in spots. Holding the swamp back was not an easy feat.
The tunnel could collapse at any time, but they didn’t really have a choice.
He’d found it after he bought the place.
He was sure it was originally built for the underground railroad.
He’d had to shore it up in a few places and spend some time cleaning out some cave-ins, but he was infinitely glad he’d done so now.
Drew’s breathing just ahead of him, steady but sharp, made him grimace as he turned on his penlight.
She hated this. He knew it. Could feel the tension rolling off her.
But she never said a word. Not one complaint.
Not even when a spider skittered across the side wall, disappearing into the shadows.
Goddamn, she was tough. It was one of the many things he loved about her.
Used to love, he reminded himself.
He shimmied past her to take the lead, crawling along, guiding her by memory and the pale beam of a small pen light, hand against the dirt to stay low. The tunnel dipped and turned before angling upward. He spotted the faint shimmer of light ahead—moonlight filtering through tree limbs.
“Almost there,” he murmured.
“Not soon enough,” she muttered back in a tight voice.
They pushed up through the exit, into a thick patch of cypress and palmettos. The swamp welcomed them back like a wall of wet air. Frogs croaked in the distance. Something splashed nearby. They crouched, catching their breath.
“This way,” Drew said, already jogging toward where she’d hidden her SUV. It only took seconds for her to swear. The vehicle was where she’d left it—except the hood was popped, and the tires were slashed.
“Son of a—” She stopped herself, breathing hard. “They found it.”
Cross didn’t waste time. Her vehicle had been a long shot anyway. He’d only followed her because it was on the way to his boat. “We’ve got to keep moving.”
He grabbed her hand, and they ran deeper into the trees, dodging brush and roots, boots slapping through patches of standing water. The air was so thick it clung to their skin, every breath heavy with moss and heat.
Five minutes later, they broke through a thick stand of willow trees—and there it was. Cross’s boat. An old, flat-bottomed skiff, tucked into a narrow inlet and camouflaged with reeds and burlap. He leapt down first, untying the mooring rope, and held a hand up for her.
“Get in.”
Drew hesitated. “You sure this thing runs?”
“It’ll get us where we need to go.”
“Which is?”
“Deeper into the bayou. Where no one will find us.”
She stared at him for a beat, eyes unreadable. She was weighing her options. What she didn’t know was there was no decision to make. Cross was not going to let her go it alone. No way in hell.
“I’m good,” she said. “I’ll make my own way back to the road and then find Savvy and McGuire. I’ll be fine. You don’t need me slowing you down, and I have no desire to go further into the bayou.”
“Your brother and sister are further in the bayou as well. They can’t help you, and now that Rodriguez knows about you, you are also a target. Get in the boat, Drew. You know I’m right.”
“Fuck,” she snarled and climbed onto the boat.
Cross started the engine, and they pushed off from the bank, vanishing into the shadows of the swamp.