Falcon Falls Security Boxed Set: Books 1-3, page 92
“Thank you again for helping us out on such short notice,” Carter said once they were inside the two-story brick house.
“You’re lucky I was already here working my own case,” Camila commented.
“Yeah, lucky us,” Sydney said, trailing behind them.
Chills covered her arms as she thought about the last thirty-six hours and how they all managed to be together there in Chile.
“This is my friend, Camila Hart,” Carter introduced her to everyone once they were all in the living room. The large space just off the foyer only had a few couches, but it did have a fully stocked bar.
Camila individually greeted the others, learning their names, and then she went over to the bar and poured herself a top-shelf scotch.
Yeah, a friend of Carter’s for sure.
“My mother and his dad dated in college in Brazil forever ago. They remained friends after that, even when marrying other people,” Camila revealed, her accent still noticeable but not quite as heavy as Valentina’s when speaking English. It was just as sexy in Sydney’s mind. “Anyhow . . .” She faced the room. “I didn’t realize our cases were connected until the men you asked me to follow checked into the same hotel as the man I’m following.”
Her announcement had Sydney nearly faltering in surprise. “Wait,” Sydney whispered in shock. “What?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Camila’s dark espresso-brown eyes narrowed as she looked Beckett’s way. And yeah, no way would Sydney be able to handle this gorgeous woman alone with him.
He’s not mine. Ugh, he’s also not Seth. Beckett wouldn’t sleep with her. Why am I thinking about this?
“Carter mentioned your ex-wife is in danger,” Camila said to Beckett.
“We weren’t married,” Beckett quickly informed her. “But yes, it’s safe to assume she’s in danger. Or worse.”
Dead. Goose bumps danced across her skin like memories of a nightmare. The kind that had her body trembling. She hated Seth. But dead? No, she couldn’t handle that news.
Camila finally withdrew her attention from Beckett and focused back on Carter. Was she going to explain how their cases were connected? She was as mysterious as Carter.
“Carter only mentioned the cartel to me over the phone,” she shared while lifting her glass in his direction. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re here for Jorge Rojas too?”
Sydney stepped forward, nearly lining herself up with Beckett.
“Jorge appears to be the common denominator between our two cases,” Camila said. “I’m a private investigator, and I was hired to find the man or woman who murdered a Brazilian scientist. I managed to track down the main suspect to Santiago two days ago. He’s staying at the same hotel as the cartel men you’re after.”
“Go on,” Carter urged, his arms tight across his white dress shirt.
“My suspect met with Jorge at the hotel yesterday. And now your men are at the same hotel the week of Jorge’s party this Friday. I’d planned to surveil Jorge’s house tonight, and then you called in the favor.” Camila set her glass on the bar before focusing on the room again. “But that’s not the only reason I believe our cases are connected.”
“You’re a great storyteller,” Mya chimed in, and Sydney looked back to see Oliver shaking his head. “What? I love a good story.”
“Ignore her,” Oliver grumbled, oblivious to the eye daggers Mya was sending his way. “Go on.”
“Before my client’s husband was murdered, he was working on an experimental drug. A drug that, in the wrong hands, could be used in nefarious ways. The suspect I’ve been tracking is also a scientist who worked at the same lab, and I believe he killed my client’s husband for the formula.”
“And you’re thinking he did this for Jorge?” Gray asked. “Why would Jorge care about a pill? That’s not his thing, or am I missing something?”
Carter went to the bar this time and snatched the scotch. His taut back muscles flexed as he poured himself a drink. “Your suspect needed funding for his lab after he killed the other scientist, so he went to Jorge. In exchange for funding, your guy had to share a secret. I’m guessing murder qualifies,” Carter theorized.
“That’s what I’m thinking, yes,” Camila said as Carter faced the room. “I didn’t realize this until my suspect and Jorge met.” She peered around the room, her gaze landing on Gray last, and she kept her eyes locked his way as she added, “But what if Jorge decided to change things up from his normal MO?”
“Instead of bartering a favor for a secret this time, he just wants the formula for himself?” Gray clarified, and Sydney stole a look at him to see his brows slanting as if suddenly making sense of why.
“The cartel,” Sydney whispered when it clicked. “Jorge wants the club, Capone, but it’s not like the cartel is hard up for cash and needs to sell it just to appease some billionaire.” She shifted to the side, catching Beckett’s eyes in the process. “Jorge would need to entice them with more than just money. What if he’s offering the Sinaloas a new drug in exchange for the place?”
“Why would Jorge want a club?” Camila’s brows climbed, clearly unaware of the type of club it was in Mexico. “He’s rich. He could build his own place.”
“Because he’s obsessed with Al Capone and all things nineteen-twenties,” Gray told her. “And Capone visited there during Prohibition. There’s an old black-and-white photo of him posing with the then-owner outside. And the cartel turned it into a tourist hotspot with a nineteen-twenties theme.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve seen Jorge’s estate.” Camila nodded.
“So, you think he’ll use the scientist’s formula to get what he wants?” Gray crossed the living room to where she stood.
“I think it’s possible, which is why he has everyone staying at the same hotel. He’s arranging a deal that works for all of them,” Carter suggested. “Jorge has a reputation to maintain, after all. He’ll stop being known as The Guarded One if he sells out a client that didn’t break a deal with him.”
“Jorge has a table reserved at the hotel’s club Wednesday night. I guess this is also why he chose that hotel. Wednesday night is—”
“Let me guess, Roaring Twenties night?” Jack interrupted Camila, on his feet next to Griffin.
Griffin remained quiet as usual. Preferring hands-on field work, he let the rest of the team figure out the details leading up to a mission.
“No dress code from what I read, but yes, the music is from the nineteen-twenties,” Camila answered Jack.
“The cartel will want proof the drug works before they make a deal.” Carter added more scotch to his glass. “Maybe he’ll use it on his own guests at his party Friday night.”
“And what exactly can this drug do, especially if your guy may have modified it in a lab with Jorge’s money?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t know what it can do now,” Camila began, “but the scientist’s wife shared with me that before her husband was killed in a supposed random shooting, he was working on a pill that would alleviate social anxiety.”
“Anxiety,” Sydney said under her breath, not quite understanding why the cartel would want such a drug.
“Not the typical kind of prescription drug. Sort of like MDMA, or I believe it’s commonly known as Ecstasy . . . but imagine that drug times five.” Not the best picture to paint, but now Sydney understood the appeal. “His wife told me the pill was meant to help people lose their inhibitions. To stop people’s fears from holding them back from getting what they truly desire in life. Make them more comfortable in social situations. Less anxious.”
“But?” Mya broke her silence.
“His wife said there were problems with the drug initially. It made people a bit too lax. Too free. She said her husband had recently tweaked it to make it safe.” Camila’s long, dark lashes fluttered a few times. “If the murderer had the funding, he could reverse engineer the formula to its original design.”
“MDMA on steroids,” Jack hissed.
“I can’t imagine the cartel having access to a drug like that. Men who’ve been trafficking women for . . .” Mya’s voice trailed off, and Sydney had the same horrified stomach-turning reaction as her friend at the idea of what the cartel planned to do.
“We can’t let this formula fall into the Sinaloas’ hands,” Beckett hissed, probably speaking as both a sheriff and a terrified father.
Camila opened her palms. “I guess it’s lucky we’re all here, then.”
“Not lucky.” Beckett stepped forward. “I’m certain this is why we’re here. Not because of my . . .”
“We’ll still help Cora,” Carter interjected. “If we can.”
Which Sydney knew meant, If she’s alive.
“Emily and Elaina’s flight will be landing soon,” Beckett said in a somber tone. “I should head to the airport.”
“I’ll pick them up.” Gray snatched a set of keys from the table. “They’re like family to me.”
Beckett pivoted to face him, a hand in the air. “What do you think they are to me?”
“They’re here because of you,” Gray snapped. What happened to the man who’d said he wouldn’t break down a door for Sydney? Why was he trying to face off with Beckett now?
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that fact.” Beckett didn’t back down from what felt like an inevitable fight, one she highly doubted was really about who’d be escorting Emily and Elaina from the airport. “I’m going.”
“You riding with me, then?” Gray swallowed the space between himself and Beckett, the keys dangling from his hand.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Sydney intervened.
“Am I missing something?” Carter came between them with outstretched arms as if to stop them from throwing fists, and Griffin quietly joined him. “What’s with you two? You’ve barely looked at each other since Mexico.”
“Nothing,” both Gray and Beckett said at the same time, maintaining eye contact with one another.
Well, this is just great. “How about Griffin and I go instead?” Sydney did her best to keep her tone level, to not yell at them like they were her son.
“No,” Gray and Beckett said at the same time.
“Gray,” was all she managed, hoping to remind him of their conversation outside.
“Gray. Griffin. You two are going.” Carter’s deep voice was borderline authoritative, command or not. “Beckett, you hang back so we can talk about Cora and Ivy. I need more information.”
That wasn’t true, and Sydney knew it. But Carter was trying to defuse the tension the only way he knew how. Barking out orders.
“Fine. But if anything happens to them . . .” Beckett’s warning trailed off as he took two steps back.
“Save the warning for yourself,” Gray countered, motioning for Griffin to head out.
Beckett shook his head and took off for the back hallway leading to the stairs, but Sydney didn’t follow, opting to give him some space to cool off.
“You seem to be at the center of whatever the hell just happened,” Carter cut straight to the point. “Is this thing with them going to be a problem?”
Sydney let go of a heavy breath and shook her head. Camila provided a short reprieve by pulling Carter to the side of the room to talk in private, saving her from an undoubted ass-chewing.
“A word,” Jack requested, tipping his head toward the foyer.
“What’s up?” she asked once they were alone by the front door, the engine noise from the SUV already retreating.
Jack set a palm to the door and studied her. “I’ve known Gray nearly my whole life, and I was by his side when he was at his worst.” He set his free hand to his chest, his tone more serious than she was used to hearing from him. “He’s been through too much. You need to be careful.”
“The last thing I want to do is hurt him. I promise.” And that was the truth. “But he told me outside before Camila showed up that—”
“I don’t care if he told you he still believes in the Easter Bunny.” Jack pushed away from the door. “Gray knows how to trick people into believing he’s okay. He’s a fucking expert at it.” He pounded once on his chest. “He let everyone believe he was okay after the accident. Told people what they wanted to hear. But on the inside, he was dying. Actually wished he was dead, Sydney. Thought he could never operate again, so in his mind, what was the point of going on.”
“I . . .” She set a hand over her heart, wishing so much that she’d had the nerve all those years ago to walk into Gray’s hospital room when he’d been awake instead of only checking on him when unconscious.
“Considering you were wearing a man’s shirt when I saw you at the bungalow this morning, I think it’s safe to say you slept with Beckett, and Gray’s messed up about it.” He added in a softer tone, “We all thought you and Gray would end up together. That it was just a matter of time. That fate brought you two back together last October. Brought you to the team.”
Fate. That word . . .
“I was the one there for Gray, helping pull him free from the hell he’d created for himself after that accident. But I can’t have my best friend getting killed on an op because his head is elsewhere. I can’t bring back the dead.” His gaze fell to the scuffed hardwoods, the only indication someone had once lived there.
Was Jack right? Had Gray only told her what he thought she wanted to hear? Because seeing the way he’d faced Beckett minutes ago had her wondering if Jack was right. Was Gray faking it for the sake of not just the mission but for her benefit? Always putting others first, that was him.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked in defeat, and Jack worked his eyes to her face.
“Griffin and Savanna couldn’t keep their hands off each other on that op despite orders to do so. And you know the story with Jesse and Ella. But if you care about Gray, you’ll refrain from mixing business and pleasure with Beckett while operating together.”
“Done,” she answered. Zero hesitation. She and Beckett had already made the decision to do so. And considering she barely knew him, she needed time to process her feelings for Beckett. “You don’t believe me?” She angled her head, trying to get a read on his blank expression.
“Carter asked you and Beckett to share a hotel room starting tomorrow,” Jack began, “so no, I don’t.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I promise everything will be okay,” Sydney told Levi over the phone an hour after Gray and Griffin had left the safe house for the airport. They’d be back soon, and she wanted to check in on her son before solely focusing on the mission.
“Alice had dinner here tonight,” Levi whispered. “Dad’s trying to turn us into a family. But Alice stopped being family the day she betrayed you.”
Sydney dropped onto the bottom bunk in the bedroom, careful not to whack her head on the bed above her.
“We’ll figure it out when I come home,” she forced out in as steady a voice as possible. “Will you put your dad on the phone?” Seth had left five messages since his marriage announcement yesterday, and she hadn’t had the stomach to call him back before now.
“Sure. Don’t forget . . .”
“Stay safe, I know.” She smiled even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “I love you.”
“Love you more,” he said before calling for Seth.
She set her free hand on her thigh, bracing herself for the rest of the conversation.
“I’ve called you a half dozen fucking times, Sydney,” Seth bit out the moment he picked up the line.
“Whiskey. Tango,” Levi began, enunciating each word in the background in a low voice, “Foxtrot. Daaaad.”
“That shit works with your mom, but not me. Get in your room,” Seth snapped, his tone sharp. It had Sydney back on her feet, ready to go to bat for her son. All day. Every day.
“Give him hell, Mom. You have my permission,” was the last thing Levi said, and she heard his angry steps fading in the background.
“Oh, you need permission to be a bitch to me now, huh?”
Who the hell was he right now? He never talked to her like that. Even when they fought in the past, he wasn’t that much of an asshole. Was this Alice’s doing? Was she trying to place an even greater wedge between them? Was she worried he might cheat on her the way he’d cheated on Sydney?
“Have you been drinking?” That was the only possible explanation for his insane behavior. Historically, he didn’t handle his liquor well. Maybe he was anxious about having Alice over for dinner with Levi and had one too many.
“I’ve been on edge since I shared the engagement with you yesterday, and you hung up on me. So yeah, I’m drinking. Not your problem.”
“It is my problem when my son is at your house and I’m relying on you to take care of him.” She paced the length of the small room between the two bunk beds.
“He’s your son now, is he? Never mind the fact I adopted him ten years ago. Raised him like my own. His biological father’s only contribution was to knock you up during a one-night stand.”
Sydney stopped walking and did her best to pull herself together. “Levi’s father never had a chance to be in his life. He died serving our country, so don’t you dare disrespect him like that.” Torn between rage and tears, she curled the fingers of her free hand into her palm and set her fist over her heart. Fighting hadn’t been her intention, and she probably wouldn’t have made the call if she’d known Seth had been drinking.
“I’m sorry,” Seth surprised her by saying, his voice softer this time. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just mad.”
“And why exactly are you mad at me?” she asked, keeping her fist firmly to her chest. When he didn’t elaborate, and she heard the swish of liquid, she realized he was drinking straight from the bottle. Perfect. “You’re marrying my ex-best friend, the woman you cheated on me with. Hell, she’s trying to take my life from me. Has the nerve to even wear my perfume. If anything, I should be upset with you.”
