Chapter 7
The satellite phone buzzed faintly in Cross’s hand as he stepped out onto the narrow deck overlooking the black water.
The air was heavy with moisture and bayou musk, still clinging to him from the tunnel crawl.
He was soaked through—sweat, swamp, maybe some fear too—but he kept his voice low and even as the call connected.
“Yeah. It’s me,” he said. “I don’t have long. I’m off-grid.”
Static crackled before a voice replied, sharp and efficient. “You safe?” his teammate asked. Stone McBride was from his old unit, now with the off-book Brotherhood Protectors. He was close with Tessa’s brother, Dane, as well.
“For now. But there’s a problem. Appears Rodriguez is tightening the noose.”
There was silence on the other end. Staring into the dark, where the tree line met the glassy water, Cross continued, “He came for me, but we got away. We’re good for now, but he’s not using just his crew; he’s got hired guns sniffing.
I’ve got no idea how he found me or even knows about me. I need to talk to Tessa.”
Tessa’s voice came down the line. “Hey, Cross. How are things?” She sounded relaxed and happy, something that had taken weeks to accomplish. Now he was going to have to destroy all that.
He didn’t bother to cushion the blow. “Rodriguez found me.”
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I got away, but, honey, he’s coming for you. He hasn’t given up, and he’s not just pissed. He’s desperate. And desperate makes him dangerous.”
“Oh my god,” she mumbled. “I knew he wouldn’t buy that I died. It was too easy, too pat. The deal falling apart was just too much for him to take at face value.”
“We had to try,” Cross countered. “Do you think he knows you’re ATF? That you were the one who called in the raid that got his shipment confiscated?”
There was a long silence. “He might,” she said in a small voice.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Cross demanded.
“There was one guy who might have guessed I was a cop.”
“Who? And how did he know?”
Tessa sighed. “It’s Rodriguez’s cousin. Dunlop is his name.
He’s a screw up. A total goofball, but a good guy.
He kept trying to get Rodriguez to throw him a bone.
Give him a job so he could make some money and build a reputation.
Rodriguez just had him clean his clubs. I kind of told him he didn’t want to get involved with Rodriguez.
That he was a good guy, and should find a safer situation. ”
“I see.” Cross couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dunlop? Didn’t Drew mention his name? Shit.
“Look, Rodriguez told Dunlop he could be at the exchange when the shipment arrived, mostly as muscle to move the crates. I told him to avoid going. It would be better for his health.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, I know it was stupid, but if you met this guy you’d have done the same thing.
He just fucks everything up, and if he had showed, I’m sure Rodriguez would have found a way to blame him.
The fact that Rodriguez barely escaped as it was had to make him suspicious.
Me being stabbed while supposedly awaiting trial was too much.
Rodriguez probably put two and two together.
If Dunlop had mentioned I was extra nice to him, well, that would probably have been the final nail in the coffin. ”
“Okay.” Cross blew out a long breath as he tried to marshal his thoughts. “I guess it doesn’t matter so much now, but Rodriguez has hired outside guns to get us. Keep your head down. I mean seriously down.”
“Does this mean I have to move again?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.
Cross grunted, “Not yet. The fact that he’s so intent on me means he has no idea where you are. We’re gonna keep it that way. I won’t let anything happen to you, promise, honey.”
Stone came back on the line. “I’ll be extra careful. If I don’t hear from you in twenty-four hours, I’ll move her.”
“Good. Take care of her. Keep her safe. I can’t let anything happen to her. It would kill me.”
“You and me both, buddy. I’m on it.”
A door creaked faintly behind Cross. He turned to glance back.
The bathroom light inside the cabin flicked off.
He caught a glimpse of Drew in the reflection of the cracked glass window, standing just out of sight.
She’d heard him. Or at least part of it.
He didn’t say anything. Just ended the call and tucked the sat phone away.
He made his way back inside. The small kitchen area was dimly lit by a gas lantern hanging from an overhead beam. The old camp stove hissed softly on the counter, a kettle perched on top. The metal was scorched with use, blackened by years of swamp humidity and cook fires.
He poured the boiling water into two tin mugs and tossed in tea bags. Drew stepped in, freshly washed, damp hair tied back. Her skin had more color than it did earlier, but her eyes were tired. Guarded.
He asked, “Still like it strong?”
“I still hate tea,” she replied. “But sure.” He handed her the mug. She held it like it was a lifeline.
“You want food?” he asked, nudging a dented crate with his boot. “There’s stew. And… other canned atrocities.”
She glanced into the crate, nose wrinkling. “Unless you’re hiding a rack of lamb behind that crate, I’ll pass.”
He gave a low chuckle. “So picky.”
“Call me spoiled.”
Cross settled onto the bench across from her, the mug warm between his palms. “So… Dunlop.”
Her shoulders lifted. “He’s a mess. But a well-intentioned one. He’s Rodriguez’s cousin. He got picked up for armed robbery, which he didn’t do. It’s a long story,” she said, waving him off.
“I think he’s the guy who outted Tessa. We faked her death, but she says Dunlop might have known she wasn’t on the up and up with Rodriguez. He probably said something that put Rodriguez on the scent.”
Drew nodded. “That sounds about right. Probably had no idea what he was doing but just blurted out something.” She frowned.
“What?” Cross asked. “What haven’t you told me? I’m guessing there’s more?”
Drew nodded. “Yeah. You’re not gonna like it.”
“Try me.” Cross folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter.
She leaned back, mug resting on her thigh. “The bounty? It’s not a hundred grand.”
Cross stiffened. “What?”
“It’s two-fifty. Two hundred and fifty thousand. Dead or alive, but preferably alive.”
He stared at her, unmoving.
“He was trying to stiff me back there. Made me laugh. I’m a woman, so I get paid less? Or maybe he figured he had to give Charlie some, so he’d split it between us.” She chuckled mirthlessly.
“That’s cartel-level money,” Cross muttered.
“Yup, it is cartel money,” Drew said. “Rodriguez wants you bad. He thinks if he gets you, he gets Tessa. I have no idea what all this is about, but I’m guessing it’s more than just he’s pissed because his girlfriend left him.”
Cross swore under his breath, rubbing his jaw. “Son of a bitch.”
“There’s more,” Drew continued.
He looked up sharply.
“The Weasel’s in play.”
Every muscle in Cross’s body froze like he’d just submerged in an ice bath.
He set his mug down slowly. “Are you sure?”
“Dunlop heard it. Rodriguez is spreading cash fast and wide. Word’s out. The Weasel took the contract.”
“Jesus.” Cross pushed to his feet and started to pace the small room.
Not like that helped. Three steps to one side of the room, three strides back.
“I thought that guy was dead.” Hoped. Hoped the guy was dead.
He’d heard a lot of whispers about the Weasel and none of them pleasant.
People were terrified of the guy, and Cross knew it was with good reason.
He’d seen something once that people claimed was the Weasel at work.
He never wanted to see that kind of shit again.
He’d tortured a guy in the worst way possible, causing an incredible amount of pain before slicing him open and letting his guts fall out.
“Nope,” Drew shook her head. “He’s still kickin’ and he’s slippery as hell. They say he doesn't stop once he's locked on.”
Cross dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen what he does. Silent entry, target neutralized, no trace unless he’s been requested to send a message. One guy in Haiti said he found the Weasel’s calling card in the form of a severed thumb. Just the thumb.”
Drew grimaced. “Lovely.”
“He doesn’t fail, Drew.” He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know.
She stayed quiet. He knew that kind of silence. She was calculating, planning. Thinking three moves ahead.
“It’s not just about you anymore,” she said quietly.
“Rodriguez knows I’m here and I didn’t take his hundred K to sell you out so now I’m an enemy.
He strikes me as a ‘if you’re not with me, you’re against me’ type of guy.
He won’t let me just walk away. That would hurt his ego.
” She let out a long sigh. “Now that bounty is public, you’re gonna have every merc, skip tracer, and wannabe glory hound chasing your shadow. Rodriguez made sure of it.”
Cross looked over at her. Her skin was pale, as if she was frightened.
She was doing her best to hide it—but her eyes gave her away.
They looked haunted. He knew her tells. She’d gutted it out in the tunnel like a soldier, but it hadn’t been easy.
Not for someone who hated bugs and tight spaces.
And still, she hadn’t complained once. It tugged something inside him—something fierce and irrational.
He wanted to pull her close, tell her she didn’t have to be the tough one tonight. But that was dangerous.
Drew was all fire and fury. Guns-blazing, in-your-face justice.
And that was exactly what made her so damn good—and exactly what made her so damn hard to be with.
He remembered the long nights of worrying.
Of sitting on his cot, waiting for her to check in after taking down a skip in some godforsaken hole. The adrenaline, the relief, the fear.
He was aware of the irony of the situation, as well.
He’d been a Navy SEAL. She had to feel the same about him when he disappeared on a top-secret op.
Except, she’d never said a word about it.
Not once. It was as if it didn’t faze her at all.
The difference was that the idea of her being in danger had eaten him alive. That’s why he left.
He hadn’t told her then, but the op he’d been heading out on—black level, no extraction plan, no backup—he’d had a bad feeling.
And for once, he listened to his gut. Told himself if things went sideways, she’d be safer without him.
And they had gone seriously sideways. His whole team had to fake their deaths to avoid a blowback that would have taken out not just their families, but their entire handler network.
If she’d been tied to him? She would’ve been on the kill list.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the bounty sooner?” he asked.
Drew shrugged. “You were busy throwing me on the floor and barking orders. Figured I’d wait till you were properly hydrated.”
He gave a small huff of amusement. “Thanks for that.”
“You would’ve done the same.”
He didn’t argue, since she wasn’t wrong.
“You gonna tell me the rest of the story?” she asked. “The real reason Tessa is so important?”
Cross shook his head. “The less you know the better.”
She snorted and then asked. “Do you regret it?”
He looked at her. “What?” Was she talking about them? Did he regret breaking up with her? Every damn fucking day, but he clung to the idea as if it was for the best.
“Saving her. Tessa.”
He hesitated. “No. Never.”
She looked away, hiding something in the motion.
Maybe jealousy. Maybe understanding. Then she looked back at him, their gazes locking.
And for a second, the rest of it—the Weasel, Rodriguez, the damn bounty—it all disappeared.
Just her. Him. The unresolved ache that still sat between them like an open wound.
A splash echoed near the shore. Drew jumped, spilling a little tea. She stood and peered through the window. “That better be a fish.”
Cross joined her, narrowing his eyes.
A gator slid silently into the shallows, yellow eyes catching the light. “Gator,” he muttered.
“Of course it is.”
She stepped back from the window and slapped her arm. “Mosquitoes are back.”
He opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle of ancient bug spray, and tossed it to her. “Vintage. Circa the last apocalypse. You washed the other stuff off.”
She sprayed liberally, still scowling. “I’m sleeping in the boat.”
“Like hell you are.”
She shot him a look. “Try and stop me.” And there she was again—brash, fierce, impossible. God help him, it was one of the reasons he’d fallen so hard for her.
He watched her curl up on the bench, her mug resting on her chest. She would tough it out there all night, being eaten alive, rather than sleep inside on the small cot with him. That stung. Still, he wasn’t going to let that happen. He wanted her beside him so he knew she was safe.
“Watch out for the snakes.”
“What?” she sat bolt upright, sloshing her tea.
“Cottonmouths, AKA pit vipers, and copperheads. Both love the bayou.”
“Shit,” she said, scurrying back out of the boat. “I fucking hate this place.” She stormed back into the cabin. Cross’s gut unknotted just a little. Now he could keep a closer eye on her. He’d pulled her into this mess, regardless of how inadvertently. Now it was up to him to get her out of it.