Don’t get close. Don’t let her in. Ignore my racing heart, my sweaty palms, and the throb in my cock. I repeat this mantra every hour, but I can’t. Emilia has no fucking clue what she’s in the middle of, or how she’s going to be my ticket to take down the Estrada Cartel.

I slam the file folder closed and pinch the bridge of my nose.

Trey saunters up and leans against my desk. “How was dinner?”

“Good. Nice, actually.” That’s only a half truth. It was more than nice. It was perfect. Don’t let her in, I tell myself once again. Fuck, I’m so screwed.

“Get any info?”

“None. I’m wondering if I’m chasing down the wrong lead. I don’t think she knows what or who she’s living with.”

“She has a fucking tail. Andres Romo. She knows what’s going on.”

“I don’t know, man.” I rub my eyes. Part of me is dead set on using her. The other part of me wants to rescue her.

“We need her,” Trey says firmly.

I nod and lean back in my chair. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I kick my feet up onto my desk. “What if we can’t get anything from her?”

“We will. Actually, you will.” Trey smirks.

“She doesn’t have a clue about her father, does she?” I ask Trey, who’s picked up the file I have on Emilia and is flipping through the pages.

“Nah.”

“So, why in the hell did Antonio Estrada pull her into his world? I don’t understand.”

“She’s collateral, regardless. If he takes her out, maybe her daddy will feel guilty and throw out the case. It’s a scare tactic, Sam. We’ve seen this a hundred times.”

“Do you think he’ll kill her?” My hands unconsciously clench around the edge of my desk.

“When has anyone walked away from the Estrada cartel alive?”

He’s right. “Never.”

“Exactly. Even the pussy Antonio Estrada hires for the night disappears for good when they leave. He cleans up his mess, though, and he does it well. We don’t have shit on him other than the drug charges. We need more…guns, humans. We need it all to take them down. Which is why we need the girl before he does something to her.”

“The girl has a name. Emilia,” I grumble, agitated. Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t know, though. Something doesn’t feel right. Something about this just isn’t adding up.”

“What’s not adding up is that we don’t have anything.” Now he’s agitated, running a hand through his hair. “We need intel from her, and fast. Antonio is up for a bail hearing in a couple days, and Martin isn’t the judge setting bail. If he’s got the cash, he’ll be out.”

“I’m working on it.” I groan in frustration. “So, we’ve got Antonio Estrada in prison.” I draw a chart on a piece of paper. Alex Estrada is his son who is running the organization. His girlfriend is Emilia Adams. Emilia Adams is Judge Martin’s daughter. They’re using her. But for what? She should be dead by now if they were sending a message to Martin.”

“I don’t know. Just do whatever it takes to get something. We’ve been coming up dry for months. Emilia’s our girl.” Trey pushes himself off my desk and walks away.

“She’s not our girl, she’s mine,” I mumble to myself and open her file again.

“Cortez, status meeting in conference room A. Now!” Hale barks at me. He’s the lead detective on this taskforce, and we meet daily to provide updates. Unfortunately, for weeks—make that months— I’ve had no updates.

If I don’t get something soon, I’m fucked.

* * *

Detective Hale briefs the joint taskforce with a few updates. Mostly nothing. I flip through my files, one on Antonio Estrada and one on Alex Estrada. One thing about the Estrada family is that they’re spotless, except for Antonio’s little slip-up. The kilo of cocaine he had in his truck when he tried to reenter the U.S from Mexico was enough to hold him for as long as we have. The Estrada cartel does a fine job of flying under the radar. They’re not flashy and they don’t send public messages like many of the larger organizations. This has brought them much success. They’re small but mighty. They move millions of dollars of drugs, guns, and people across the border every month. Antonio Estrada’s net worth sits around fifty million and Alejandro Estrada is not far behind that.

Antonio runs the cartel, but Alejandro, also known as Alex, is the brains of the organization. He manages the “business,” the money. He invests and does a fucking damn good job of keeping most of that money clean.

“Cortez?” A voice pulls me away from my thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry.” I perk up.

“Any updates?” Hale asks, resting his hands on his hips.

“Not today. Getting closer. Hoping for something soon.”

“Soon would be nice. Yesterday would’ve been fucking phenomenal.” He scowls at me, and I can feel the tension in the room. They’re looking for me to make the break, and I’d love nothing more than to put those fuckers behind bars for life.

“Look, if I push Emilia Adams too hard, she’s going to pull away. Give me some time.”

“Time is a luxury we don’t have, Cortez.”

I sigh and rub my eyes as Trey jumps in. “Shipment of guns was supposed to come through Nogales yesterday. It didn’t happen. Intel in Mexico is telling us everything is on hold. I’m not sure what’s happening, but there’s been a change in their deliveries. They’re onto us.”

“Goddammit!” Detective Hale smacks the table. “I want those fucking guns. I want the driver. I want the truck. I want that entire goddamn organization taken out. Find out where the fucking guns are and when they’re coming across the border.” He stalks out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him. Trey and I pass a concerned look between us.

“Now seems like a great time to get some coffee,” I tell Trey and push myself up from the table.

“Good luck,” he mumbles.

“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”