Chapter Nine
Arlo
Violet was on the edge of breaking. Arlo could feel it in the way her body trembled beneath his grip, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms as she stared at the empty dock where Voss had disappeared.
Riley was gone. Stolen. Taken by the very monsters they had been hunting. They hadn’t known it, but the bastards had been two steps ahead of them all along.
Violet’s panic was rising like a tidal wave, but Arlo refused to let her drown in it. He tightened his grip on her arms firmly, unshakable and immovable.
“Violet.”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t blink, hell, he didn’t think she even breathed.
Arlo gave her a slight shake. “Violet. Look at me.”
Her gaze snapped to his, wild and desperate, but she was still in there. Still fighting. Good. He leaned in, his voice low, calm but lethal.
“We are going to find her.”
It was a vow and he would keep it. This wasn’t just a mission anymore. This was personal. His jaw tightened as he released one of her arms and pulled out his phone.
“Logan,” he barked as soon as the line connected. “We have a situation.”
He explained what had happened, all the while keeping an eye on Violet.
“Meet us back at the safe house.”
“Copy that. We’re on our way.”
Arlo knew that Logan, Seb, Toby, Ezra, Carter, and Max would be already in motion before he even ended the call. Because that was what they did. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t wait. They were there for one another.
“Every contact we have,” he continued, still watching Violet carefully. “Every surveillance feed. Every piece of intel, we use it all.”
He turned to face her fully, his next words not just a command but a promise.
“No one rests until we find her, until we find them all.”
Thirty minutes later, Violet and Arlo were crowded into the living room of the safehouse with Arlo’s CIA teammates.
Arlo had made introductions briefly, then they got straight down to business.
The problem was, there were no new leads and none of the guys had any ideas of where they could look for them.
Violet hadn’t called her superiors in the FBI to tell them what had happened and Arlo knew why.
She knew what he did: that the FBI’s methods were too slow.
She didn’t have the time to wait around for search warrants and she couldn’t get tied up in red tape.
She was counting on the CIA to help her get her daughter back.
She was counting on Arlo. And he wouldn’t let her down.
Violet took a sharp breath as determination surged in her. “Where do we start?” she asked, her voice still shaking but stronger now.
Arlo’s mind was already working, his focus narrowing like a predator locking onto prey.
And then, something occurred to him, something that had been niggling at him.
He saw a face in his memory, one of the guards who had been on the yacht.
Arlo had thought he’d recognized the man, but he hadn’t been able to put a name to the man’s face, or even to recall where he knew him from.
But now it snapped into place. The man was a low-level thug, but not just any thug.
Arlo had arrested him before, years ago when he was still with Miami PD.
The guy had been linked to an underground fight club, a seedy hotspot for criminals, and men who made their money off the suffering of others.
If he still moved in those circles, that was where they’d find him.
Arlo pulled out his phone again, searched through the stored numbers, then dialed as seven pairs of eyes trained on him. The line rang twice before a gravelly voice answered.
“Damn, Harrison. Thought you left this city behind for good.”
Arlo’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Hey Mal, no time for nostalgia, sorry,” he said flatly. “This isn’t a social call. I need some information.”
The man paused, then asked, “What do you need?”
Arlo glanced at Violet. The tension in her wasn’t fading, and wouldn’t until her daughter was back in her arms and safe.
“Leo Santiago,” he said, his voice razor-sharp. “He still fighting?”
Another pause. Then the voice came back, low and grim.
“Yeah, he is. It might have been a few years, but nothing has changed in this city. You already know where he’ll be.”
Little Havana.
“Thanks, Mal. I appreciate it. I’ll give you a call soon, okay? We’ll grab a beer.”
Arlo hung up.
Little Havana was a dirty, dive bar that managed to operate within the confines of the law. Barely. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the best lead they had.
Arlo filled in Violet and the guys, his focus razor-sharp.
The room around him buzzed with tension, the air thick with an energy that was part rage, part determination.
Every member of his team moved with the same silent efficiency, checking weapons, securing gear, preparing for the storm they were about to unleash.
Violet stood across from him, snapping rounds into a fresh magazine, her expression set like stone. She had barely spoken since they left the yacht, but she didn’t need to. Everything he needed to know was written in the tension of her shoulders, and the fire in her eyes.
She was ready to kill for her daughter, and so was he.
Arlo slid a combat knife into his thigh holster, adjusting his tactical vest before turning to his team. They all stood ready, fully armed, faces unreadable but lethal.
“This is an information gathering mission,” he said, turning to each of the men in turn. “You all know what that means.”
They would gather their information by whatever means was necessary, even if they were operating outside the law. Even Violet seemed to understand what he meant, and nodded at him silently.
“We move fast, we move smart,” he continued. “No hesitation, no mistakes.”
A beat of silence. They all nodded.
“Copy that,” Logan said.
Ezra seemed even more keyed up on adrenaline than the rest of them. “I’m ready.”
Max cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this.”
*
Little Havana looked exactly as Arlo remembered: dark, seedy, and full of lowlifes who lived and thrived in the shadows. It was a place where men made ugly deals in back rooms, where money bought silence, and where people like Damien Voss built their empires on stolen lives.
Violet walked in beside Arlo, eyes scanning every inch of the space.
The rest of the team was outside, waiting for their signal. If things went south, they’d come in guns blazing.
As they made their way around the room, Arlo searched the faces for one he recognized, and it didn’t take to spot him.
Santiago was there, sitting at a back table, laughing, and drinking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Arlo’s jaw ticked. Leo had aged since the last time Arlo had seen him up close, but he was still the same lowlife thug who made his money in the gutters of Miami.
Arlo felt the burn of adrenaline ignite his veins. He moved. Fast. Leo barely had time to react before Arlo grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him face down onto the table in front of him.
Leo let out a garbled curse, and when he lifted his head, blood poured from his nose.
“What the fu—”
A gun pressed hard against man’s ribs. Violet’s gun.
Her voice was lethal, cold, controlled. “Where are the kids?” she demanded.
Leo let out a choked laugh, trying to play it off, but Arlo could already see the flicker of fear in his eyes. Arlo punched him in the face and Leo’s head snapped sideways. His lip split open and more blood dripped onto the table. Arlo’s shark stirred.
Leo groaned, eyes wild, hands scrambling against the wood.
Arlo leaned in, his voice a deadly growl.
“Don’t fuck with me, Leo. I’m going to ask you one more time.”
The thug spat blood onto the floor.
“You don’t scare me, man—”
Arlo grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward, their faces inches apart.
“I should,” Arlo murmured. “Because if you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’m going to take you out back and put a bullet in both your knee caps. Perhaps then you’ll be more inclined to answer my questions.”
Leo swallowed as Violet pressed her gun harder into his ribs.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk but sharp as a blade.
Leo nodded.
“Then you know I’ve got nothing else to lose. If you don’t start talking now, I’ll be following you out back, only I won’t be satisfied with your knees, my gun will be pointed somewhere a little more personal, you feel me?”
Yes! Arlo’s shark said, savoring the threats of violence coming from its mate almost as much as Arlo did. Hell, Violet might do well in the CIA herself.
Leo’s gaze darted around the room, searching for help, but no one made a move to help him.
“Talk,” Arlo demanded.
Leo’s breath finally shuddered out of him. “A warehouse near the docks,” he said at last.
Violet’s entire body went rigid. “Where?”
Leo blurted out the address.
“You get that?” Arlo said into his earpiece.
Carter’s voice came through, deadly calm. “We’re already moving.”
Arlo turned back to Leo. The bastard was panting now, eyes darting wildly.
“Good choice,” Arlo said coolly. “Now get up, you’re coming with us.”
“What?” Leo squeaked.
Arlo lifted the man out of the seat and began dragging him across the room with Violet bringing up the rear. “Do you think we’re going to leave you here alone where you can tip of Voss?”
“He’ll kill me!” Leo said.
Arlo pushed the man to get him to move faster. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker, now move.”
They had the address, and now they were going to war.
They left Leo cuffed to the car as they headed toward the warehouse entrance.
It was a nondescript building on the waterfront that was indistinguishable from its neighbors.
Max, Carter, Seb, and Logan had gone around to the back of the building which left Arlo, Violet, Toby and Ezra to go in front the front.