Page 11 of K-9 Guardians

“Why?” That was the question. The one that’d been constantly ticking at the back of mind after he’d gotten the call about Adam’s murder this morning. It churned until he swore his blood started to boil. “First Adam, now Julien. My investigation into Muñoz didn’t turn up anything significant. I have nothing. He’s made sure to keep his hands off cartel business, so why make an example out of me? Why go after the people I care about?”

“I don’t know.” Scarlett stared out over the parking lot, seemingly memorizing the quickest exits and any vehicles that might get in her way. Like the good soldier she was supposed to be.

His gaze dropped to the hem of her T-shirt and the scar hiding beneath the fabric. She’d told him she’d gotten it by keeping her word. If that was true, she might be the only one who could help him now.

“According to our intel Muñoz is making a move for leadership,” she said. “He wants the old regime out. You or your surveillance team must’ve stumbled across something that could put a stop to that. Killing your partner—abducting Julien—they’re warnings.”

The truth of it resonated through him, but no single piece of evidence came to mind. The pressure behind his sternum strangled the remaining air in his lungs. Helplessness threatened to erode the last of his strength. It took everything he had right then to stay on his feet as his mind replaced Eva’s crime scene photos with ones featuring the boy he’d come to love more than life itself. “I’m all he has left, Scarlett. I promised I would take care of him. That as long as we were together, nothing could hurt him, and now...”

“I know.” She stepped close to him. Tendrils of hair escaped the ponytail tied at the nape of her neck and tickled across his face. That simple focus conquered the downward spiral tearing through him. “I need you to listen to me. Sangre por Sangre doesn’t play by the rules. They don’t stick to MOs unless they’re sending a message. There’s no telling how much time Julien has, but if we can prove Muñoz was behind Eva and Adam’s murders, we’ll have the leverage to use against him. You know Muñoz’s current operation better than anyone. Do you have any idea where the cartel might’ve held your partner during the three days he was missing?”

“I’ve been through Muñoz’s holdings a hundred times.” Addresses, bank accounts, phone records—all of it had been aboveboard to an outsider looking in. None of it useful. “He owns a couple car dealerships in town, a restaurant that’s under investigation by the state health department and a couple McMansions outside the city.”

Scarlett’s face lit up. “The restaurant. The health department would’ve shut it down until Muñoz addressed the problems they found, right? No one would be allowed in or out, and restaurants usually come with those locking freezers. If Muñoz worked it right, he could’ve stashed Adam Dunkeld without anyone knowing.”

He loved the way her brain worked. Electricity shot through him at the idea of their first real lead. King swiped through his phone and brought up the address, moving toward the SUV. “The restaurant is only a couple miles from here. I’ll put in the request for the search warrant.”

They moved as though they’d been partnered for more than a few hours. In step with each other. Scarlett rounded the SUV to the driver seat as King hauled himself into the other side. Both Dobermans paced back and forth across the cargo area. As though they sensed what was coming.

War.

He would go to war with the cartel for his son.

King submitted the warrant request up the DEA chain. He’d worked his own personal investigation into Muñoz up to this point, but stepping foot inside the restaurant without a warrant would throw anything they found into question. Or dismiss it altogether. And he couldn’t take that risk. Not with Julien’s life on the line.

The Dobermans stuck both of their heads over the center console with low groans.

“They don’t look too pleased you left them in the car.” King found himself leaning away from the duo. His instincts told him this breed could turn on him at any moment. One wrong move, and they’d turn him into their next meal.

“A lot of people hold grudges against Dobermans.” Scarlett angled out of the elementary school’s parking lot, bringing up the GPS on the SUV’s navigation screen. “They believe the aggression is innate. That it can’t be bred or trained out of them, so I try to keep the twins away from the general public. But in the year I’ve worked with Hans and Gruber since coming to Socorro, they’ve only grown more attached to me and the team, including the other K9s.”

Attached enough to kill anything that threatened their handler? “I’ll be sure to stay on your good side then.”

Her laugh filled the cabin of the SUV and physically attacked the tension along his spine. Which shouldn’t have been possible. Not when they were on their way to search a building where his partner could have been tortured and killed. Where Julien might be held now. But he was quickly learning what he saw of Scarlett wasn’t exactly what he got. A security consultant for the country’s most well-funded private military contractor would have to be controlled, perfectionistic and critical of everything and everyone she encountered, but at the same time there was a hint of softness in the way she spoke. A passion to help that he couldn’t ignore.

“Only if you want to stay alive,” she said.

They settled into a few minutes of silence as they got closer to the restaurant.

“This is it.” Scarlett shoved the SUV into Park. She leaned over the console to get a better look through his window at the stucco building across the street.

Hints of her body soap—something like eucalyptus and lavender—filled his space and dove into his lungs. Soothing and exciting at the same time.

Unholstering her sidearm, she released the magazine and checked the ammunition before reassembling her weapon. Efficient. Quick. The woman knew her way around a gun. “Catalina’s?” she asked.

“It’s named after his wife.” He’d never been here in person, but King felt as though he knew every inch of the place from the amount of surveillance he and his team had done over the past two months. He noted the pillars holding up the overhang protecting the double glass doors, intricate designs carved into the wood. Sharp corners and a flat roof complemented the look and feel of the surrounding buildings and homes with benches and plants funneling customers inside from the heat. “One entrance at the front, an exit at the back that leads into the alley between all these other buildings.”

“How do you want to play this?” she asked.

King checked his phone. “We’ve got the search warrant.” Unholstering his own weapon, he ensured his badge and credentials were visible to anyone who might want to intervene during their search. “That means we can knock on the front door.”

“Great. I love Mexican food.” She shouldered free of the vehicle and wrenched open the back door to let Hans and Gruber out. King followed suit. The Dobermans immediately rounded the SUV in playful leaps.“Fuss.”

Each dog took to Scarlett’s side as she holstered her weapon and headed for the restaurant’s front door. “After you.”

He’d waited a long time for this. King forced the knot in his gut out of his mind as he approached the building. No movement from the windows. A seal plastered over the double doors warned customers of the potential dangers of stepping foot inside, but he wasn’t worried about E. coli or contracting food poisoning. King was here for his son. He pounded his fist against the thick wood. “Hernando Muñoz. DEA. We have a search warrant. Open up.”

One minute. Two.

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