50. Liam
LIAM
Max rushes in behind me once we clear immigration in Mexicali, already on a call. I am too, calling Helena again, even though I know better. I haven’t heard her voice, and that unfinished text sits in my phone like a hand I didn’t take.
“Arturo’s waiting outside,” Max says.
We push through the hall, weaving past travelers toward the exit.
Outside, Arturo Sánchez stands by a long-wheelbase Range Rover.
Former federal police. Now private security.
I don’t come to this part of the world often anymore.
But when Mexico was hot and Hunt & Hunt was planting flags in the region, he was the man we trusted to keep us breathing.
“Liam. Maximilian,” Arturo greets us.
We shake hands and get in.
“Victor Rochemont arranged ground transport in advance,” Arturo tells us as the doors shut and we clear the curb.
“Driver?” Max asks.
“Independent contractor. SUV rented through a luxury fleet service. Paid upfront.”
Arturo hands me a tablet. Images load. They’re security camera stills from the private terminal, showing Victor and Helena walking together. The photos show nothing out of place. In one frame, she’s even smiling.
That’s worse.
“She believes something,” Max mutters.
“She thinks it’s about Olivia,” I say. Victor would’ve presented himself as the solution.
Arturo murmurs something to the driver and the car turns. “Plate confirmed. We pulled the rental registry and traffic feeds.”
A map replaces the images on the tablet.
“They avoided the coastal corridor,” Arturo adds. “They did not head toward Tijuana. They stayed inland. Hit a toll booth here at 2D. Plate captured at 13:38.”
Mexico’s toll roads don’t care who you are. Cameras record every vehicle.
“After that,” Arturo says, zooming the map, “they exited east.”
“Away from tourist traffic?” Max asks.
“Yes. Away from the coast.”
“How far can you narrow it?” I ask.
“Last confirmed camera is here.” He taps the screen. “After that, it’s rural. Limited feeds, and coverage is spotty.”
“We head west,” I say. “Keep tracing while we move.”
Victor and Helena might look comfortable in that footage. They’ve vanished since. I don’t know if she’s hurt. I don’t know what he’s told her. I do know Victor thinks he’s controlling the pace.
“We need to move smart,” I add.
Arturo nods.
The city is now behind us. Concrete gives way to open land, low stone walls, and dry fields. The sun presses low as afternoon stretches east.
Max glances at me. “You okay?”
I don’t answer right away. Helena’s text flashes through my head.
Cowards take the money and leave.
I’d thrown that at Victor once. He’d thrown it back. But none of that matters now.
“She’s carrying my child,” I tell Max quietly.
Max goes still. “Liam?”
I nod.
He hooks a hand behind my neck and knocks his forehead lightly against mine. “Then let’s make sure he never gets near either of them again.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We go get her.”