CHAPTER ONE
Working undercover was a lonely job. It shouldn’t matter to me. It never did before. But I was coming to a point when being a lone wolf and fighting bad men weren’t as appealing as they used to be.
Don’t get me wrong, I had my family which I was close to. I had good friends. Well, work friends. But they were good ones. And I had my grandpa and my brother—maybe them I could call best friends.
Was it weird that my best friends were a grumpy over eighty-year-old and a thirty-something former motorcycle club member?
That was the price to be paid for being introspective and having a thriving career—no relationships, almost no friends, strands of white hair already growing on my temple, and no real place to call home.
The worst part, though? I was dealing with so much shit for so long, never connecting with anyone, that I was lusting after the woman I was supposed to investigate.
I wasn’t sure Freud could explain that one.
That was a new low for me. And I could only blame it on loneliness, or I was really losing it. It was high time for me to take a step back and head to Holy Water like I promised my pop I’d do.
But it wasn’t the right time just yet.
Why? Because after months investigating the little spitfire tormenting me and being punched by her twice—not that I was holding a grudge or anything—I was finally able to arrest her.
To be fair, I didn’t have that much to arrest her for, only enough to bring her in for questioning. But since she assaulted a federal agent—yours truly—for the second time, I could keep her longer. Okay, maybe I was holding a bit of a grudge.
All is fair in love and war, isn’t that what people say?
Although I couldn’t say there was much love between us. Attraction, for sure—at least on my side, against my better judgment. But love was definitely a stretch. Especially because she’s been pissing me off since I placed the handcuffs on her wrist. Even before that.
But what bugged me the most was that we were alone in an improvised interrogation room while she was handcuffed to the table; she’d been stuck with me for hours and with no communication outside. I clearly had the upper hand—if I ignored the pain in my ribs from when she attacked me. Yet she didn’t look worried and was no closer to confessing to what she’d been doing. If anything, she looked bored.
“We’ve been here for hours, and I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon. Don’t you think we should at least know each other’s names?” I sat down in front of her and leaned my elbows on the table separating us. “This feels so impersonal, don’t you think?”
She leaned her head from side to side while pondering. “I don’t know. I think it gives our dynamics a mystery vibe. Isn’t it exciting? Besides, I think Phoenix is so fitting for you.”
The first time she called me that was the first time she punched me.
After leaving the Army following my Ranger years, I joined the Drug Enforcement Administration or DEA, what felt like ages ago. Getting drugs off the street was an unending job. More often than not, I felt like I was trying to dry ice. It was a pointless job in an already lost war.
But then I was promoted to my current position. It was more dangerous, sometimes more defeating, definitely more alienating, and it kept me further from my family. Yet I still believed I could do something good with it. Something meaningful. Getting rid of drugs was a distant dream. But if I could help rescue at least some of the girls they were terrorizing, it would be worth the many, many, many sleepless nights I faced since I took that position.
I was assigned to investigate El Rey Alacrán , a huge drugs and human trafficking Mexican cartel that was getting bigger and scarier than we were able to contain. When I was transferred a few years back, my main assignment, according to my direct superior, Aaron Scott, was to bring down the chain of human trafficking increasing in the country by the Alacráns’ hands. He had someone looking into the drugs, I needed to take care of their victims.
I had big shoes to fill. I was supposed to conclude what The Bryant Prodigy had started. Whoever the guy was, he was a legend. Rumor had it he was murdered a little over a year ago, which was a travesty.
Since I started my new job and my investigation progressed, I narrowed down my goals to be after two women.
The first one was the one Carlos “La Sangre” Gomes (the head of the cartel) wanted—I still didn’t know who she was.
And the other one was the little trouble sitting across from me in the house we used for interrogation and when I needed to meet Aaron, my handler, without the cartel knowing.
That was my way in as an undercover agent. As a way to launder money, the cartel owned several alternative ventures, including a chain of high-end restaurants. It was the perfect place to work.
I began as a bouncer, raised to the head of security, never failing to show them I could be useful inside. Soon—but not soon enough for me—they realized I knew my way around computers—that was putting it mildly, but I didn’t want them to know I could hack the hell out of their systems.
I just wanted an upgrade, so becoming manager of their most important restaurant it was. If I needed to be rough with someone who wronged the cartel, so be it. If I had to look the other way when they did something despicable, that was the price I paid to get closer to them and listen to their conversations. It was needed for me to get access to their computers.
Being rough with the scum who dealt with them was easy. The hard part was to keep my cool when I knew they were destroying several lives, and I couldn’t do a thing just yet. It was a job that required patience. And guts.
Then she started to frequent that expensive hellhole, and things turned interesting. My confidential informant warned me about her. He assured me she was important to the investigation and I needed to keep my eye on her. So, I did.
She was different from the other patrons. Besides regular—fancy and rich—clients, there were some criminal, bigger fish in that pond. Along with dealing with shady shit, they yearned to show their status, how high on the ranks they reached, or how close they were to the cartel.
The patrons and even the members of the cartel tended to ignore the lowly employees—me—to proclaim their wins and boast how big they were. Not that woman, though. While everyone talked, she listened. Taking advantage of their willingness to announce their accomplishments, she asked the right questions, things that were supposed to be private yet the men were all more than willing to share with her. All the while, she kept her cards to herself.
For the first few months since I met her, I watched her from afar. Then she bested me for the first time. I wasn’t as inconspicuous as I thought, and she called me on it.
That was the first time she called me Phoenix, most likely referring to my dark auburn hair. I couldn’t help but enjoy the nickname. Who wouldn’t like to be compared to a mythical bird that arises from ashes?
Putting aside those fond memories, I pushed in a friendly manner, trying a new strategy to get her to talk. “You can call me Phoenix if you like, but come on, I’m not asking for much. I just want to address you by your name so we can get...more comfortable with each other.”
She raised a scarred eyebrow at me. “I don’t know about you, but being handcuffed at the table in an unknown place isn’t something I’d call comfortable.”
I nodded and raised my palms. “I’ll tell you what. You give me your name, and I’ll take the handcuffs off. Then we can...chat.”
She eyed me for a while, a single brow still raised. Her assessment of me was sharp, and she didn’t give anything away. I had to deal with brutal and cruel men on a daily basis, but her silent consideration in that room made me suppress my squirm.
Once she seemed satisfied with whatever ran inside her head, she tipped her chin in agreement. “Chris.”
I’d never heard of a Chris in the cartel. And she didn’t look like a Chris, but I wasn’t about to tell her that and risk having her clam up.
“Very well. It’s nice to meet you, Chris.” I fished the keys from my pockets and took her handcuffs off. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her wrists, making me feel like a jerk. Until I remembered why she was there in the first place. “Now, can you tell me what you were negotiating with Bryan Keyes?”
I knew what. Bryan Keyes was one of the biggest human traffickers in the country, deeply connected with the Alacráns . But I needed to remain friendly with her. When she stayed silent, I nudged a little bit more.
“If you’re worried about your safety, we can work on that. I can protect you.” For whatever reason I couldn’t deeply analyze, I meant that. I knew the Alacráns could be brutal, and it made something inside me recoil at the thought of her being in their hands.
Still rubbing her left hand, she leaned over her elbows on the table. “What makes you so sure you can protect me from them? From what I’m seeing, you’re alone in here. They might not be smart, but they’re strong and numerous.”
“I know a lot more than they are aware of,” I admitted.
“So, you’re two-timing them?”
“They’d probably think that,” I conceded, “but I’m actually working.”
She snorted. “Following women who are alone is part of your job description?”
“If they’re dealing with illegal shit, yes, it is. Look, I told you already, I work at the DEA. It’s my job to bring the cartel down and everyone associated with it. I’m trying to help you find a way out.”
She intertwined her fingers and studied me again. “I have it on good authority that not everyone inside is as clean as their badge implies. And here you are claiming you’re just pretending to work for the cartel. If you’re two-timing the Alacráns , how could I be sure you’re also not two-timing the agency? I have no reason to trust you.”
“Seriously? You were soliciting their commodities and trying to go over the head of the cartel and you’re implying I’m the dirty one?”
One side of her lips tipped up in a half smile that shouldn’t have tightened my pants. “I guess you have no reason to trust me either.”
I sighed and tried to come up with ways to bring her on my side. “You talked to Keyes about a meet-up. You were aiming for something big, so you can’t be working alone. Who are you working with?”
She smiled sweetly. “I didn’t say I was working at all.”
“You have no reason to be that confident. You’re in serious trouble here, and there’s no way out for you. Let me help you.”
She looked down at her hands and bit the inside of her bottom lip before adding quietly, “Give me a piece of paper and a pen.”
My heart started beating faster, and I did my best to school my features. My breakthrough was finally coming.
I handed her a notebook and a pen I found in the backpack I carried and waited. Without looking me in the eyes, she started drawing what seemed to be a map. As she drew, I took the time to study her.
Her fair complexion highlighted the dark circles around her big, dark brown eyes. She could pretend all she wanted, but for whatever reason, that woman was tired. Her small tipped-up nose gave her an innocent look that not even her sharp eyes could dim. Her left eyebrow portrayed a big scar that only intrigued me more. Her dark brown wavy hair framed her face. Matching all that with her small yet curvy frame, the only thing missing was a pair of glasses to complete the girl-next-door picture.
A girl-next-door who fought like a demon. A girl-next-door who looked oddly familiar. A girl-next-door who shouldn’t attract me so much.
She finally slid the piece of paper back to me. I snatched it up and tried to make sense of the image. It seemed like a trail with mountains and water spots, leading to a point that she marked with an “X”. There was something familiar about it, but I couldn’t pinpoint where I’d seen it.
“What is this place?”
“It’s the key to what you’re looking for.”
“What am I going to find here?
“The question is “who.” And the answer is ‘the boss.’”
“And how do I get there?”
“With the password.”
I was starting to get tired of her mind games, but I didn’t have much choice but to concede. She was the answer I’d been looking for. I could feel that. “So, the password will lead me,” I tapped the X, “here?”
She nodded. “That’s correct.”
“What’s the password?”
“My name,” she whispered.
“Chris?” I leaned over the table and whispered back. Like a moron.
“My full name.” I nodded at her to go on, and she announced, “ Chris P. Bacon .” She chuckled at my appalled expression. “Write that in the GPS, and it’ll lead straight to where you can get the common sense you desperately need.”
That damn spitfire!
I stood up from my chair as she laughed, unbothered that I was much taller, carrying a gun, and bearing a badge. “That’s it!” I stepped towards her, and she just stood up as well and turned around putting her hands at her back, resigned about her fate. “You’re under arrest—”
The door was opened with so much force that it slammed against the wall and almost closed back, if not for the three big men who marched inside.
Benjamin “Ben” Walker, Daniel “Danny” Delgado, and Aaron Scott stopped in their tracks right inside the room, shock written on their faces.
Unbothered by the intrusion, she looked at me over her shoulder. “You called the cavalry, that’s so sweet.”
I was waiting for the moment when they’d compliment me on my good job for arresting her. Or maybe explain what they were doing there. Or even how they knew something was going on in that base.
What I most definitely didn’t expect was their crazy eyes aimed at us and Aaron’s outburst. “ What the fuck are you doing? ”