Page 33 of K-9 Guardians

“Unless she was there the night Eva was killed.” King ran through every ounce of intel he’d gathered over the past two months. None of it fit in an obvious kind of way, but he needed something—anything—he could use to get his son back. And Muñoz’s wife was all he had.

“Okay.” Scarlett darted to the tablet charging on her room’s built-in desk. “I can work with that.”

“I don’t know how.” Grabbing for the crutch he’d tossed on the floor last night, he wedged it beneath his arm to hike himself off the bed. “It took me a month to map out Muñoz’s organization on my own, and the DEA has most likely already been by my place and seized anything pertaining to my investigation. I’m not exactly sure what you think you’re going to come up with in a few minutes.”

His phone fell free of his pants pocket and revealed a handful of missed calls. His supervisory special agent was most of them with a couple missed from an unknown number.

Given that the FBI had officially taken on Julien’s abduction, King imagined whoever had caught the case was trying to reach out as well. The FBI didn’t know Sangre por Sangre or Muñoz like King did, but damn it, he needed as much help as he could get. Covering every angle. A quick review of his voicemails assured him the FBI and local police were working the case as best they could.

But he and Scarlett were onto something here. He could feel it.

“I don’t need your files. I just need...” She was lost to a series of taps and screens his brain couldn’t keep up with. “Got it.”

“Got what?” he asked.

“Catalina Muñoz. Forty-six. Originally born Catalina Lemos in Mexico but soon applied for citizenship once her parents immigrated into the US on a work visa when she was ten. Her parents were denied and returned to Mexico, but they left Catalina with...an uncle. Metias Leyva.” Small lines creased in a half-star pattern along the edges of her eyes.

Seconds seemed to pound at the back of his head. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure yet. I feel like I should know that name.” Scarlett shook her head as though to rewind the past few seconds and made a few other swipes across the screen. “Catalina managed to gain citizenship and went on to graduate with the highest marks from Columbia at the age of twenty with an MBA before marrying Hernando Muñoz a year later. No children or dependents. They own their home in Albuquerque. No work history on her part that I can see from filed joint taxes in the last seven years, but if these financials were filed right, she’s never had a reason to work a day in her life.”

“Where are you getting all that? Because everything you just listed requires a warrant.” King tried to get a good look over her shoulder, but Scarlett pressed the tablet to her chest.

“One look at this screen, and you make yourself an accomplice. I’m pretty sure you want to keep your job with the DEA when this is over, don’t you?” She eased the screen away from her chest and continued the digital flip through whatever information she’d found. “So let’s just say I have my ways.”

She had to be kidding, right? “Your ways? You know nothing is going to hold up in court if you can’t prove you searched Muñoz’s financial history legally. Even cartel lieutenants have rights.”

“I’m not interested in taking Muñoz or his wife to court,” she said. “All I want is to bring your son home alive. This is how I can do that, King.”

The shock of her words sucker-punched him. It took him longer than it should have to get his head on straight, but he guessed that was why it was good to have a partner. Someone he could count on to keep him grounded. “I already put all this together on my own, and unless you think Catalina’s background will give us an idea of where my son is being held, none of this means a damn, Scarlett.”

“What if I told you I know where I heard that name? Metias Leyva. Catalina’s uncle who raised her.” She turned the tablet toward him and slid her finger across the screen to narrow the bird’s-eye view over a property he didn’t recognize. Rural, almost deserted from the look of it. “Socorro has dealt with him before.”

“He’s Sangre por Sangre? I mapped out Muñoz’s organization during my investigation, even going as far as checking into extended family members for a lead. His name never came up in connection to Catalina,” he said.

“He was Sangre por Sangre. Pretty high up, too.” Scarlett set her attention back to the tablet screen. “He threw a raid party in a small town called Alpine Valley in search of his ex-wife and came up against one of our operatives. He survived the encounter, but the cartel found out he’d put his own agenda before theirs, and he couldn’t face upper management without punishment. So he ran. Cops found him with a tire around his neck outside Albuquerque.”

“Let me guess. Lit with accelerant and a match to make it harder to identify him. Not to mention the message it sent to the rest of the organization.” King took the tablet, studying every pixel on the screen. Especially the dark rectangle positioned on a long dirt driveway. “If he’s dead, then why is there an SUV parked in front of his house?”

“That’s a great question.” Scarlett pried open one of the doors to her built-in shelving and pressed her thumb into a safe installed inside. The keypad lit up, releasing the locking mechanism, and she handed him a sidearm. “Are you up for finding the answer?”

Chapter Twelve

The last time she ran into a suspected cartel hideout, she’d lost Gruber, Julien and almost King. This time would be different. This time she had her team. And she wasn’t going to fail.

“Metias Leyva. Hell, who knew the son of a bitch would keep giving us trouble even after police had to pry that tire off what was left of him?” Granger Morais’s words didn’t match the gravelly voice she’d never heard raised above a warning.

The counterterrorism agent studied the property from the passenger seat of the SUV with the help of the tactical binoculars all Socorro operatives carried in their kits. Completely at ease. As though he’d done this a thousand times before. Which, she imagined, he had.

“You encounter him yourself?” King had been relegated to the back seat. More room to stretch out his leg. The plan was set in stone. He would remain behind until Scarlett and Granger cleared the property. With any luck, they’d have Julien when they returned. And if anything went south, he could call the rest of the team.

Granger lowered the binoculars and tossed them into the console between the front seats. “Not personally. No. Though cleaning up what was left of his operation got put on me. Took a few weeks, but I managed to trace every one of his soldiers back into their dark holes or into the shallow graves where the cartel left them.”

“What about Hernando Muñoz?” King asked. “The husband of Leyva’s niece. Did you uncover any evidence he had something to do with Leyva’s operation or have any reason to believe Muñoz was using his wife’s uncle for his own agenda?”

Granger faced off with King in the rearview mirror. “None, and I dug deep. If your guy was involved in Leyva’s business, they kept it off the books.”

“I’m sensing a theme.” Scarlett studied what she could see of the oversize mansion down the block. The DEA couldn’t condone an independent investigation into the cartel led by one of their own agents. All matters concerning Hernando Muñoz would be shut down and placed under review for actionable leads, but that still left a ten-year-old boy out here on his own. The FBI didn’t understand what they were dealing with. Scarlett did. She grabbed the driver side door handle. “You ready?”

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