“They hadn’t been scrubbed, so it was easy to trace them,” Eva said from the head of the table, where she had several thick file folders spread out in front of her. “The shipment was destined for the Presidio of Monterey, but the garrison’s paperwork said the guns were coming in next week. They weren’t missing them yet.”
“Inside job,” Sakura said.
“Yes. There’s been no sign of the original transport vehicle, and the guards on the manufacturer’s official record weren’t actually the ones who left with it. It seems the Alvarado cartel had agents on both ends.”
Shane swallowed a mouthful of cruller and made a face. “Not exactly a confidence booster to think that they can get to people inside our own military.”
Nodding, Eva said, “Top brass took this out of our hands, and I was happy to let them. We’re not paid enough to get involved in whatever political firestorm this is going to ignite.”
“Political cover-up, you mean,” Sakura said, dumping a packet of sugar into her coffee.
“Either way.” Eva sighed. “People are going to go down for this. Let’s make sure they don’t take us with them, all right?”
“As long as we’re browsing in the bad news department,” said Jade, “I’ve had a look into the Alvarados’ financials, and I can’t find any suspiciously large or unexplained sources of funds. Which kind of puts a pin in the theory that Raúl Esparza paid them to help fake his death.”
“He didn’t,” Ángel said, much more calmly than he’d objected to this discussion in the past. “What’s happening to me now doesn’t have anything to do with this case—the stalker just took the opportunity where he saw it. Even if Raúl weren’t dead, he couldn’t have known I would end up here; this would be too much of a coincidence. If I hadn’t gotten involved with you guys, everything would have happened exactly the same, except there wouldn’t have been any fake papers in that car and Buzz would still be alive.”
Jade perked up and said, “Speak of the devil. I got hold of Buzz’s cell phone like you suggested, Charles, and downloaded his voice mails. It was mostly nonsense, but there was one interesting message.”
While Jade plugged her tablet into the speaker at the center of the table, Charles glanced sideways at Ángel. Ángel met his eyes with perfect composure, as if this were the first time either of them had heard of any suspicious voice mail.
Jade pressed Play.
“Mr. Cooper,” said a man with a drawling Texan accent, “you don’t know me, but I’m an associate of Felix Torres. I was hoping you might . . .”
The rest of the message was white noise to Charles, who was preoccupied with Ángel’s immediate reaction. His face had gone a sickly gray, and he gripped the edge of the table with both hands, breathing shallowly through his mouth.
“That’s Paul,” Ángel said dazedly.
A ripple of reaction went around the table. Charles’s stomach lurched.
“That’s what’s off about his voice,” Jade said. She started the message over from the beginning and pursed her lips in thought. “There’s kind of a tremor there, but it’s indistinct, like he’s trying to hide that he’s afraid—”
“Jade,” Sakura said. She inclined her head toward Ángel, and Jade turned the voice mail off at once.
“A cowboy,” Ángel murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Fuck, how could I not . . .”
Charles tensed, worried Ángel was going to give the game away, but he should have known better. Ángel pushed his chair away from the table and left the room without another word.
“Should someone go after him?” Shane asked.
Charles shook his head. “Give him a few minutes. When he’s this upset, he tends to lash out at whoever’s nearby.”
“So the stalker forced Warner to be his middleman with Buzz,” said Sakura. “That’s beyond fucked up.”
“Jade, have you had any luck locating the suspects Ángel named?” Eva said.
“Mercedes Salazar is living the high life in Mexico City—I guess Esparza left her a bunch of money. There’s no official record of her leaving Mexico, and having seen her credit card statements, I’m confident that she never left under the radar either.” Jade unplugged her tablet from the speaker and pulled it back toward herself. “I’m more concerned about Oscar Palomo.”
“How so?” Charles said.
“A couple of days after we extracted Ángel, there was a bloody coup inside the cartel, and Palomo barely got away with his life. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
Eva grimaced. “That is concerning.”
“What about Roberto Ibarra?” Charles asked. “The ex-bodyguard?”
“Dead,” said Jade.
“Dead?” Eva repeated.
“Shot in his apartment shortly after Palomo kicked him out of the cartel.” Jade shrugged. “He’s not the only one, either. At least a half-dozen of Esparza’s flunkies have been executed in a similar way. Unofficial consensus in the PFM is that Palomo had them taken out.”
The Policía Federal Ministerial was sure to have their own agents inside the Esparza cartel; in fact, Paul Warner had probably liaised with them to keep Ángel safe undercover. If anyone knew what was going on down there, it was the PFM. Still, something about all this didn’t sit right with Charles.
“Man, poor Ángel,” Shane said, tipping back in his chair. “Bodies are just dropping like flies around him.”
“That’s not his fault,” Charles said, too harshly.
Shane blinked at him. “I never said it was.”
“All right, let’s table this for now,” said Eva. “We have other work to do, and the FBI is still investigating Warner’s abduction and homicide. We’ll see if they come up with any leads.”
“We’re just going to sit around and wait for the FBI?” Charles said.
“They have more evidence to work with than we do.” Eva propped her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “You know how difficult it is to catch stalkers, Charles. Leaving a body was a misstep on the stalker’s part, but we can’t touch that crime scene, so what else do you want me to do?”
“Nothing.” Realizing his hands were clenched into fists underneath the table, Charles stretched out his fingers and laid them flat against his thighs. “Sorry.”
Their conversation turned to new business, but Charles couldn’t focus for the rest of the meeting.
It took him a few minutes to track Ángel down afterward, out on the smokers’ patio on the ground floor. “Are you okay?” Charles asked, joining him against the wall.
Staring off into space, Ángel said, “What am I doing here?”
Charles opened his mouth, but since he wasn’t sure what Ángel meant, he didn’t have an answer.
“I brought the stalker here with me,” Ángel said. “I dragged him into your case, something you’ve been working on for months. He could have ruined everything.”
“He didn’t. Everything worked out fine.”
“This time. What about the next one? If I’d left when Campos suggested it—”
Charles took hold of Ángel’s elbow, exerting light pressure until Ángel looked at him. “That wouldn’t have been you.”
“No,” Ángel said bitterly. “No, it wouldn’t. I’m the guy who sticks around and puts everyone in danger because I’m too proud to hide from a fight I know I can’t win.” He turned around and kicked the wall.
“You can win,” Charles said, alarmed by this uncharacteristically defeatist attitude. “We’ll find him, Ángel. We’ve all got your back.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” Ángel gestured toward the building. “They’ve known me for a week. It’s not fair to expect them to take risks for me.”
“It doesn’t matter how long they’ve known you. You’re an agent, you’re one of us—”
“He could kill you, Charles,” Ángel interrupted. “Or Jade, or Eva, or anybody else around me.” Ángel drew a shuddering breath. “He won’t just stand by and let me live my life. He’ll interfere i
n any case I work on, threaten anyone I care about. He’ll poison everything I touch.”
“What are you saying?” Charles asked.
Ángel closed his eyes. “I have to leave San Diego.”
Charles stared at him. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He’d genuinely had no desire to see Ángel again after their last fight in Tucson. Ángel’s return had brought extremes of anger and confusion Charles hadn’t felt in years. He’d been consistently deprived of sleep; his car had been destroyed and his apartment tagged by a nutjob out for his blood. He’d found a dead body in one of the most gruesome tableaus he’d ever seen.
He was so much more present and invested in his life than he’d been before.
“I don’t think you should make any decisions right now,” Charles managed to say. “You just had a nasty shock.”
“My life has been a series of nasty shocks for the past two years,” said Ángel. “I’ve had enough. I can’t do this anymore.”
He started walking away, toward the door. “Ángel,” Charles called out, astonished. Never in a million years would he have expected to see Ángel Medina surrender. It was wrong, unnatural, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Ángel stopped and turned back, studying Charles’s face for a moment. “I’ll wait to discuss it with Campos until tomorrow,” he said.
Charles nodded. He watched Ángel go inside the building, then just stood there, his brain whirling.
He wasn’t sure he wanted Ángel to stay, not forever. But Charles knew he didn’t want this to be the way Ángel left.
“So how private is your uncle’s cabin in Canada, exactly?” Ángel asked Jesenia that night in her motel room.
“Really?” she said, pausing with her hands full of Chinese takeout containers. “You’re considering it?”
“I don’t know if I can justify staying here any longer.” Ángel snagged an egg roll from the bag and dropped it on his paper plate. “I’m putting everyone near me at risk, not to mention endangering my office’s cases. The stalker got involved in the Jackals raid just to fuck with me—if he’d wanted to, he could have blown the whole thing.”
“That’s a good point.” Jesenia opened the rest of the containers and sat down at the table, spooning out orange chicken for them both.
Reaching for a pair of chopsticks, Ángel said, “I don’t want to run away, but . . . isn’t that a little selfish?”
“I don’t know,” said Jesenia. “I’m sure the rest of your team doesn’t think so.”
Ángel dragged his chopsticks discontentedly through his rice.
“What exactly is holding you back here?” Jesenia held up a hand before Ángel could answer. “I mean besides your natural-born stubbornness and pride. I’ve never known you to have trouble setting those aside to protect people before. So what’s different now? What’s making you want to stay even though you know it’s a bad idea?”
Ángel took his time chewing and swallowing a bite of chicken. “Charles,” he admitted, when he could no longer stall.
“Ay,” Jesenia said, sighing heavily.
“I know, I know it’s stupid—”
“It’s not stupid, honey, it’s just not going to do you any good.” Stretching her arm across the table, Jesenia took Ángel’s hand in hers. “Let’s talk about this honestly, okay? What was your relationship like with Charles in Tucson?”
Ángel turned aside, disgruntled, but Jesenia held fast to his hand.
“Ángel,” she said.
“We had to sneak around because Charles didn’t want anyone to know about us,” Ángel said reluctantly.
“And here in San Diego?”
Ángel scowled at her, though it wasn’t her fault she was right. “We’re sneaking around because Charles doesn’t want anyone to know about us.”
Jesenia gave him a pointed look and released his hand.
“Something’s different this time,” Ángel said. Charles was more raw than the last time Ángel had seen him, less sure of himself—the breakup with Amy had shaken him. He just wasn’t sure if those changes were enough to do them any good.
“I’m sure it is. It’s been two years, after all.” Jesenia picked up her chopsticks. “Let me ask you this, though: do you really believe Charles can forgive you for what you did to him?”
Shit. “No,” Ángel whispered.
“There you go, then,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you should forgive him for the way he treated you, either. I’m not saying Charles is a bad guy; you’re just not right for each other. It’s obvious you want different things.”
Jesenia let Ángel stew in his thoughts as they ate. Eventually he said, “I’ll talk to Campos tomorrow about taking a sabbatical.”
“All right.” Jesenia gave him a sympathetic smile. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you. Cuenta conmigo.”
Ángel spent the rest of the evening hanging out with Jesenia, hoping Charles would be in bed by the time he got back. No such luck—when Ángel entered the apartment, Charles was sitting on the couch, watching TV, which Ángel was willing to bet good money he’d been doing since he got home from the gym after work.
“Hey,” Ángel said, stopping in the living room.
Charles hit the mute button on the remote. “Hey.”
The blinds were drawn over the patio door, as always, so Ángel couldn’t see if Charles had made any attempt to get the paint off the glass. “No more visitors tonight?”
“Nope.”
All right. There was no point in delaying this, or skirting around the issue. At the very least, Charles deserved Ángel’s honesty now.
“I decided to take Jesenia up on her offer,” said Ángel. “With any luck, the stalker will be too lazy to follow me all the way to Canada.”
His weak humor fell flat between them. Charles just gazed back at him steadily.
“Cold up there,” was all he said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“It’s your decision.” Charles unmuted the TV.
Ángel frowned. Though Charles’s tone hadn’t been judgmental, Ángel still felt he’d been dismissed—like he’d disappointed Charles somehow, which was beyond unfair. He turned and locked himself into the guest bedroom without saying good night.
Ángel showered and went right to bed, but he tossed and turned for hours, unable to find any peace. The last time he and Charles had separated, it had been devastating, ripping deep wounds into his very core that still hurt years later. He didn’t want to leave things that way again. Not after what they’d been through this time.
Rolling over on the futon, Ángel rummaged in the duffel bag on the floor until he came up with a bottle of lube. He tossed back his blankets, stripped out of his underwear, and pulled his knees up to his chest, reaching down to tease his hole.
Ángel fingered himself slowly, easing his hole open and stroking his cock to hardness. Once he’d gotten himself nice and slick, he grabbed a condom from the bag and padded naked from his bedroom to Charles’s.
Charles was asleep on his side, one arm curled beneath his head and the other flung out across the mattress. Not wanting to startle him, Ángel kept his distance from the bed as he said, “Charles. Charles, wake up.”
With a sleepy groan, Charles blinked his eyes open and raised his head. “Ángel? Is something wr . . .” His voice cut off abruptly, and when he spoke again, he no longer sounded quite so drowsy. “What are you doing?”
Ángel said nothing, just approached the bed and pulled back the blankets. Charles shifted onto his back and watched him; he took a deep, slow breath when Ángel straddled his waist, dropping the condom onto the mattress.
“Wh—”
Ángel pressed his clean fingers to Charles’s mouth. “Cielito,” he murmured, leaning forward. “Bésame.”
The second Ángel withdrew his hand, Charles’s own were threading through Ángel’s hair, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Ángel moaned into it, squirming atop Charles, pressing every inch of their bodies
together and squeezing his knees against Charles’s sides.
He just wanted one more night—one night setting aside their anger and bitterness and resentment, one good memory to take with him. If Charles made him ask for it, though . . .
He didn’t. Charles lifted his hips just enough to wriggle out of his boxers, never dislodging Ángel from his seat or breaking the kiss. Ángel took hold of Charles’s cock with his lube-slick hand, thrilling at the sensation of that thick shaft coming to life against his palm.
It wasn’t long before Charles was swollen and straining. Ángel pulled back from the kiss, a little dizzy from oxygen deprivation, and got the condom into place. He lifted himself on his knees and held Charles’s cock steady.
“Ángel, wait,” Charles said, his hands flying to Ángel’s hips. “Are you—”
His eyes rolled back in his head as Ángel’s eager hole sank onto his cock. Ángel closed his own eyes, working his way down inch by inch, biting his lip when his ass settled against Charles’s pelvis. God, Charles’s fucking cock, it always filled him up exactly the way he needed—
Ángel gave a few gentle bounces to make sure his body was ready, then folded forward, resting his chest flat against Charles’s, and took his mouth again. They kissed languidly while Ángel alternated between rocking back and forth and swiveling his hips, grinding Charles’s cock in circles inside his hole. Charles’s hips rolled beneath him, matching Ángel’s lazy pace; his hands grazed light patterns over Ángel’s back and sides.
Eventually, Charles’s hands found their way to Ángel’s ass. He kneaded the cheeks, spreading them wide and then pushing them together around his cock.
Too turned on to focus on kissing anymore, Ángel lifted his head and said, “Fuck, that feels good.”
“Mmm.” Charles rubbed a finger against Ángel’s hole, tracing the stretched, sensitive rim.
Ángel dropped his head into the crook of Charles’s shoulder. “Put it in.”
Charles’s chest jerked underneath him with a sudden deep breath. “Yeah?”
Ángel nodded, his face hidden against Charles’s neck. He sucked Charles’s finger when it tapped against his lips, laving it with his tongue and getting it nice and wet, though there was already plenty of lube in play for what he had in mind.
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