Chapter 22
Travis
“You good?” I ask.
“I’m good, Daddy,” Miles replies—and I believe him, but I had to ask.
The city’s morning pulse thrums around us as Miles and I sit in a small café two blocks from the Knox it’s all set, all we need is for Miles to do his side of the plan and we’ll have everything we need.
Hours pass, the sun climbing higher, and I’m wired, my eyes never leaving the office. Miles is playing his part perfectly, moving between his desk and the copy room, no sign of Knox.
I’m starting to think we’ll pull this off clean when two black SUVs roll up to the curb, their tinted windows screaming trouble. My gut clenches as four men step out—hard faces, tailored suits, the kind of swagger that reeks of cartel muscle.
One man has a thin moustache, a hint of a tattoo lurking under his shirt collar. Another packing a bulge under his jacket that’s definitely a piece, a probably a semi automatic too. The other two men look dangerous, out of place in the city district.
This isn’t good. Not even close.
They head into the Knox & Rain lobby, and my heart slams against my ribs. Miles is still inside, his dot steady on my phone, oblivious to the wolves walking in.
Every instinct screams to charge in, yank him out, damn the mission. If these are Los Lobos enforcers, if they’re here for him, I can’t sit and watch.
That note—Next time, you’re dead—flashes in my mind, and I see his trashed apartment, his fear when I first took him to my place. My hands grip the binoculars, knuckles white, and I’m halfway to opening the car door when Cole’s voice crackles through my earpiece…
“Travis, hold. We don’t know their play yet. Stick to the plan.”
“He’s in there,” I growl, my voice low, raw. “If they touch him—”
“We’ve got eyes on the exits,” Max cuts in, his tone calm but firm. “Give him time to plant the drive. He’s smart. He’ll handle it.”
I curse under my breath, my pulse pounding. It’s the biggest dilemma I’ve faced in years: act now, storm in, and risk blowing the mission—months of work, the Guard’s trust, my career—or wait, trust Miles’ nerve, and risk his life.
The cartel is no joke. Symon and Kent’s faces flash in my mind, their bodies crumpled in that jungle ambush. I can’t lose Miles, not like that. Not on a mission.
But he’s my partner, not just my Little, and he’s counting on me to hold the line. Miles would be furious if I jeopardized the mission for his safety.
I force a breath, my eyes locked on the office windows.
Miles’ dot hasn’t moved—he’s still at his desk.
The SUVs are still parked, no movement. I text Miles…
TRAVIS: Stay sharp. Unknown players in the building. Get out if it feels off.
My thumb hovers over the send button, hesitating. If he panics, it could tip them off. I hit send anyway, my heart in my throat, and wait, praying he’s as brilliant as I know he is…
My phone vibrates in my hand, the screen glowing with Miles’ reply…
MILES: Haven’t returned the flash drive yet. Not leaving until it’s done.
My blood runs cold, and I slam my fist into the steering wheel, the impact jarring my knuckles, pain shooting up my arm.
“Damn it, Little,” I mutter, my voice a growl in the quiet of the sedan.
Miles is stubborn, brave to a fault, but this isn’t a game. Those cartel enforcers—four hard-faced men in dark suits are inside the Knox & Rain building, and my binoculars catch them moving through the glass-walled office, weaving between cubicles.
They’re heading for the elevators, their strides purposeful, and my gut screams they’re going to the top floor—Knox’s office, where Miles is about to plant that flash drive loaded with Cole’s spy software.
I told him to leave if things seemed off. But he’s not budging, his loyalty to the mission—to exposing Knox and his Los Lobos ties—keeping him rooted like an old oak tree.
I admire the boy’s fire, but it’s got me terrified, my heart pounding like a war drum.
I grab my phone, my fingers flying over the keys as I send a group message to Cole and Max:
TRAVIS: Situation at K&R. Situation urgent. Your presence is required ASAP.
My pulse races as I hit send, knowing they’re across town, tailing a lead on the cartel’s boss. Even if they burn rubber, they might not make it in time.
The SUVs are still parked outside, engines idling, a bad sign—they’re ready to bolt. Miles is alone in there, and every second I wait feels like a betrayal of the Daddy I’ve promised to be.
I curse under my breath, shoving the binoculars into my pack.
I can’t do this alone, but I can’t wait either.
My Glock’s holstered under my jacket, a familiar weight, but it’s not enough to take on four armed cartel guys in a crowded office.
Still, Miles is my Little, my partner, my everything, and I’ll be damned if I sit here while he’s in danger…
I make the call—this mission ends today, one way or another.
I’m out of the car, the parking lot’s concrete cold under my boots, and I cross the street, my cap pulled low, blending with the morning crowd.
The Knox & Rain lobby is sleek, all marble and glass, and I flash my fake consultant badge at the security desk, same as last time. The guard barely glances up, waving me through.
My heart’s hammering as I hit the elevator, punching the button for the top floor. The tracker app’s still open—Miles’ dot’s moving now, toward the back of the building, where Knox’s office is.
My stomach twists. He’s going for it, right as those cartel goons are closing in.
The elevator dings, and I step out, my senses sharp, scanning the hallway. It’s quiet up here, the executive floor less chaotic than the open-plan chaos below.
Knox’s office door is ahead, closed, no sign of the cartel guys yet. I move fast, my boots silent on the carpet, and press myself against the wall near the door, listening. No voices, no movement, but Miles’ dot is inside.
I text the damn boy again…
TRAVIS: Get out NOW. Cartel in building. I’m here.
My thumb hovers, hesitating, but I send it, praying he checks his phone.
I’m about to slip inside when I hear footsteps—heavy, deliberate, coming from the stairwell. The cartel guys, moving fast.
My hand’s on my Glock, but I hold off, my mind racing.
If I go in guns blazing, I risk Miles getting caught in the crossfire. If I wait, they might beat me to him.
My phone buzzes…
COLE: Ten minutes out. Hold tight.
Ten minutes is an eternity. I take a breath, steadying myself, and decide: I’m getting him out, mission be damned. Miles’ life is worth more than any intel, any legacy.
I ease the door open, slipping into Knox’s office. It’s as gaudy as Miles described—yacht photos, sports car models, a shrine to greed. He’s at the desk, his back to me, sliding the flash drive into a drawer.
“Miles,” I hiss, my voice low but urgent.
He spins, his eyes wide…
“Daddy? What are you—”
“No time,” I cut him off, grabbing his arm. “Cartel’s here. We’re leaving. Now.”
Miles’ face pales, but he nods. We’re halfway to the door when it swings open, and the first cartel man enters, his glare on us.
My Glock’s out in a heartbeat, aimed at his chest.
“Back off,” I growl, my voice deadly calm. “You don’t want this.”
The man freezes, hands up, but his smirk says trouble’s coming our way.
Miles is trembling beside me, but his chin’s high, his fire still burning.
Whatever happens next, we’re in it together—but we need to do something, and do it fast…