Chapter One
They were coming.
Scarlett Beam stared at the security feed longer than she should have. Seconds ticked off one by one, putting everyone in this building in more danger the longer she refused to move. She had to be sure. To confirm she wasn’t seeing things coming off a twenty-four-hour shift.
Dust kicked up in front of the perimeter cameras and blocked out early morning sun coming up over the cliffs to the west. “Don’t make me do this,” she said to herself.
She couldn’t make the call until she had visual confirmation. Her hand hovered over the alarm she’d hand-wired throughout the building. One press. That was all it would take to start an outright war. She licked at dry lips.
The dust cleared.
Revealing four fully loaded—and most likely bulletproof—SUVs. Coming straight at Socorro’s headquarters. Every cell in her body spiked with battle-ready tension.
Sangre por Sangre had crossed the line.
Scarlett slammed her hand down on the alarm. Ear-piercing shrieks urged operatives into action. She backed away from the security console built with her own two hands and reached for her sidearm. Compressing the release, she caught the magazine and inventoried the rounds stacked inside as she headed into the corridor. Low shouts echoed off black walls, tile, artwork and ceilings and drove her toward the armory.
It shouldn’t have come to this. She thought they’d have more time.
Socorro Security’s orders to dismantle the most bloodthirsty drug cartel in New Mexico had come straight from the Pentagon. A year of intelligence gathering, close calls and surveillance hadn’t come close to an attack like this. Each organization knew the danger of provoking the other until the time was right. Seemed Sangre por Sangre had gotten tired of waiting.
Movement registered ahead as Socorro’s counterterrorism agent dashed ahead of her. Two other operatives followed after as she rounded into the armory. They were private military contractors. Trained in war, weapons, strategy, combat and intelligence gathering throughout their military careers. Each of them moved with efficiency as they pulled high-powered rifles from mounts and stashed extra ammunition in their vests.
“What do we got, Scarlett?” Granger Morais holstered a backup pistol at his ankle. The former counterterrorism agent knew all about surprise attacks, having worked the investigation of 9/11 and the ambush on the American consulate in Benghazi. If they were going to get out of this alive, it would be because of him.
“Four vehicles, upgraded, one mile out. I’m not sure how many hostiles inside. Assume your rounds won’t pierce the bodies or windows given Jones’s run-in a couple weeks ago.” Socorro’s combat coordinator had barely survived the encounter as he’d tried to protect a war correspondent who’d gotten herself in the cartel’s crosshairs. Scarlett strapped into her Kevlar as the tick of nails grew in intensity from the corridor. She really needed to trim those.
Competinggrowlstold her the vet had sent out Hans and Gruber to back Scarlett up. The Dobermans charged into the armory, most likely having sniffed out her scent, and circled in tight rotations around her legs. The K9s had come from the same litter—brother and sister—and had learned to stick to Scarlett’s every order since she signed on with the company. There wasn’t anyone else she’d want at her side once they headed out into this mess.
“Damn it. They’re getting ballsy. I’ll give them that.” Granger sheathed an oversize blade into the holster along his thigh. No matter the situation, he’d be prepared. That was what made him one of the best. What made them all the best. “All right. Cash, you and Jocelyn take the high ground. I want as many targets in your scopes as you can manage in case this goes sideways. Scarlett, you’re with me in the welcome party. Bring the twins. They look like they haven’t bit anyone in a while.”
Cash Meyers—the operative charged with predicting the cartel’s moves before Sangre por Sangre made them—dragged two heavy-duty cases from the steel shelf at the back of the room and handed one off to his equally experienced partner, Jocelyn Carville. “We need to alert Chief Halsey and the rest of Alpine Valley the cartel is in the area. Make sure all civilians shelter in place until the threat has passed.”
“The alert was sent out the moment I hit the alarm. I’m sure Alpine Valley PD is already issuing the order.” Because that was their job. To protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. It was why Scarlett had signed on with Socorro in the first place. She secured her sidearm, hand pressed along the grip. It’d been a long time since she’d had to unholster her weapon, and that same dread that accompanied the last time infiltrated her focus.
“Good. Then let’s move.” Granger took the lead, with Cash and Jocelyn splitting off with their rifles slung over their backs into a separate corridor.
Hans and Gruber kept on her heels as they weaved through the maze meant to confuse and disorient unwelcome visitors. Though Scarlett had done everything in her power as Socorro’s security expert to ensure that never happened. Her gaze cut to the space where the ceiling met the wall, where she’d hidden the backup plan that would even any score should her team find themselves cornered.
Speckles of dust glittered in front of her face as she and Granger cut through the building’s front lobby and toward the double glass doors. Socorro’s headquarters had been set into the side of a mountain range in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Why the structure had a lobby at all—as though they were expecting visitors or potential clients—had never made sense to her. But gratitude shifted through her at the added space between her and the outside world.
Granger paused before hitting the door release, that unkempt swatch of facial hair hiding any tell around his mouth. “You good?”
No. She wasn’t. Injuries from two weeks ago still pulsed, suffered from taking on a cartel member much stronger and much bigger than her in an attempt to save Jones’s journalist. But she wasn’t about to back down. She hadn’t before. She wouldn’t start now. “I have one of Jocelyn’s oatmeal bakes in the microwave. Let’s get this over with so I can eat.”
Granger’s laugh took a bit of the uncertainty out of her nerves. He pushed through the doors and out into the open.
They moved as one, weapons raised as four SUVs skidded to a stop a mere twenty yards from the building. Sangre por Sangre had never before attempted to get this close.
Which meant something was very, very wrong.
Scarlett clocked Cash and Jocelyn taking up position on the roof, each tucked into their own corner for the best advantage. She and Granger were covered. No matter what happened next, her team had her back. And the Dobermans would eat anyone alive who tried to take her down. Sweat secreted around her grip and threatened to loosen her calm.
“Steady.” Granger leveled his chin parallel to the ground with all the confidence and authority she didn’t have. “We’re not going to be the ones to shoot first. Understand? Anything that happens today, we want them to make the first move. That way, any retaliation is sanctioned by the Pentagon.”
“Understood.” Her voice shook on that single word, giving away the earthquake shuddering inside. This was her job. What she’d trained for. She was good at this, yet there was still a small part of her that wished she was stronger. More in control. Made better choices. Coming to Socorro—supporting her team, taking responsibility for others—was supposed to be her way to make up for the past, but she still couldn’t shake the tremor in her hand.
Granger pulled up short. Waiting. The message was clear. One wrong move, and Socorro would do whatever it took to defend their territory.