Sweat stings my eyes when I glance down at my phone clutched in my fingers. Hours have passed since Zoe said she’d call back, and Morrison won’t answer my calls. Charlize either. Something’s wrong.

As we roll in an open Jeep down the unleveled gravel road, traditional Spanish music playing from a local station, Rook’s quiet. I was surprised as shit when we arrived here to find him waiting in the airport. I had told him our plans to come here only to keep him informed. I didn’t think he’d be up for the trip after his short stay in Minnesota. I’m guessing he’s quiet because he’s scared his wife will go into labor while he’s more than a day’s flight away. No one could blame him.

Stone’s dark gaze falls on me as he grips the “oh-shit” handle. “The fuck you so worried about? Think your girl’s bangin’ Morrison?”

Rook sits a little taller, the edge of his mouth curling with a smirk when he looks my way. “You make things official with Zoe?”

I match his smirk and nod. “I’m tryin’.”

“Figured it wouldn’t take long the way she was makin’ eyes at you the night we played at Purple Reign.” Rook’s expression tightens. “This thing serious with you two?”

“I hope so. I got her to move in with her little sister. They’ve been through hell because of their old man, but Zoe’s tough. A little too tough. Took a lot of convincing to get her to quit the strip club, and let me take care of her.”

“Well fuck me,” Rook declares while cupping his hand around his mouth to light a cigarette. “Sounds like Ryker Blackwood’s in love.” His eyes spark with amusement as he takes a long drag. “How’s it feel?”

I balk at his declaration, unsure how to answer. “Love” has never been a word with much meaning, other than being a powerful lyric to put in a song, and a way to describe the camaraderie I feel for my crew. My parents weren’t ones to offer that kind of affection, and I sure as hell never felt the need to say it to a woman. At least until Zoe.

I’ve let her into my world, trusting that she’ll accept me for who I am. Trusting she won’t use anything she’s learned against me. Trusting that she’s with me because of who I am, not because of the house I live in, or the promise to take care of her and Charlize.

Rook jabs me in the ribs, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I won’t bust your balls. I know how it is. Comes out of nowhere, right?”

“You’re both fucking pathetic,” Stone growls from his other side. “If I’d known it only takes a hot piece of ass to make you go soft, I would’ve bent over years ago—made you my bitches.”

Stu, the PI we hired, chuckles from the driver’s seat. His expression’s otherwise stoic as he navigates through the tropical terrain like a pro. His business partner Keevan sits at his side, handle of a pistol peering out between his shirt and shorts. Though they’re dressed casually, more like a local than a tourist, they each have buzzed haircuts and the same “fuck you” look Stone has been giving everyone since he came out of the military. They’re both younger than I would’ve expected—Stu only a few years older than myself.

They stick out like a sore thumb among the rest of the islanders. We were greeted with smiles and swaying palm trees, reminding me of every Jimmy Buffet song in existence. If Zoe was here, it’d be a completely different trip. I’d take her down to the white sandy beach lining the sea green water and sing to her as the sun went down, make love to her until it came back up.

But without her beside me, or even answering her goddamned phone, I’m on edge. I miss the fuck outta her, and hate being this far away.

“How much father?” I ask Stu.

“Twenty minutes, give or take.” He glances back at me with a fat cigar held between his lips. “But we’re in no hurry…your brother doesn’t ever leave the compound until sundown.”

My gut churns with the reminder that my little brother’s caught up in a drug cartel. I didn’t want to believe it when Stu first broke the news, but it was hard to deny the dozens of photos he provided as proof. I wanted to believe he was being held there against his will. Discovering he’s let loose on his own every night made it pretty fuckin’ clear he’s here on his own accord. Whether or not the postcard was meant simply to let me know he’s alive, I don’t intend on leaving until he looks me in the eye and tells me he’s not in any danger.

“May as well blend in and grab some beers down on the beach where your brother always ends up,” Keevan says while lighting a joint. He takes a hit before passing it back to Stone, lips crooked with a smirk. “Welcome to the island, boys.”

Stone holds it over Rook, practically shoving it in my face. “Take it. You’re too fuckin’ wound. Cartel sees you like this and they’ll think you’re a narc.”

I’d rather hop out of the moving car and return to Zoe than continue to ride with these idiots, but Stone would only hunt my ass down and drag me back.

I reluctantly take the joint. It’s going to take more than a buzz to calm me until I hear back from Zoe.

* * *

The sun slowly sinks down behind the ocean in the most awe-inspiring sunset I’ve seen in my life. It’s hard not to think about Zoe, wishing she was here to see it too. Considering I still haven’t heard shit from anyone back home, the urge to jump on the next flight back out nearly chokes me to death.

The bar becomes filled with locals, some taking an interest in the five of us. Jet lag sets in as we’re munching on wings and sucking down another round of ice cold beer. I’ve been drinking mine as slowly as possible, sometimes even dumping a little in sand, wanting to keep a steady head for whatever we’re about to face.

“Heads up,” Stu mutters under his breath after several hours have passed. His dark eyes fall on mine. “Your brother’s at three o’clock.”

I’m subtle about turning my head, but I’ve never been so happy to see my little brother in my entire existence. Shirt cropped at the shoulders to show off his ink, khaki shorts, flip-flops…other than looking like he’s here for a fucking vacation, he doesn’t look any different than when I last saw him that day in the shop. For the first time since he went missing, I’m able to release a steady breathe. He’s whole, without any noticeable damage.

There’s a big old grin on his face as a small horde of local chicks gravitate his way, fawning over him like he’s Justin Bieber. In situations like this, it’s easy to imagine him surrounded by groupies. If our band ever goes on tour and becomes well-known, he’d be a natural. And he’d soak in every second.

Stone sniggers beside me. “Glad we came all this way just to watch him get his dick wet.”

“Doesn’t appear to be anyone tailing him,” Stu tells me. “You can talk to him, but keep it subtle. Stand beside him at the bar, and order a drink. Try not to draw a lot of attention. Someone could still be watching from a distance.”

I throw back the rest of my beer before making my way over to my brother. He’s attempting to charm the group of women using an impressive display of Spanish. Learning the language was one of few positive things that happened to him all those years in juvie.

Bender doesn’t see me until I lean against the bar beside him and ask one of the bartenders for another beer. His lips curl with a genuine smile as he subtly grabs my hand between us. “Took you long enough.”

“The fuck’s goin’ on?” I ask. “You in some kind of trouble?”

Releasing my hand, he orders a mojito, waiting until he has it in hand to answer. “I sent the postcard knowing Terrance had been giving you a hard time, wanting to find your uncle. I didn’t want you caught in the middle of this shit.”

“Uncle Marty showed up in Minnesota right after you took off.” I rub at my throbbing temples, feeling the start of jet lag, and a massive headache. “He said he left because the feds were after him.”

Bender sets his mojito down between us, holding my gaze. “I know.”

“How?”

“He’s been living here since Trask was murdered.”

I shake my head, confused. “Is that why you’re here?”

“The night I went to ditch the SUV, I was pulled over by someone from the cartel. I was so sure they were going to behead me that I came up with a bullshit story about how I commandeered it from Terrance. They must’ve recognized me…asked if I was working for King Marty. I rolled with it. They took me to their compound in Minneapolis, looked into my story to see if I was telling the truth. Your uncle must’ve vouched for me because they offered me a pound of premium weed as a reward for returning their shit. Turns out your uncle’s been doing business with the cartel for over a decade, smuggling military weapons from the base down here up to the Midwest. Feds caught wind of your uncle’s involvement, and the cartel brought him here under their protection. I came down here hoping to find the bastard, and finally confront him about putting a hit on Trask.”

Can't say I’m surprised. I always knew my uncle had his hands in things I knew nothing about, most likely to protect me. “So did you get a chance to talk to him before he left?”

“No, but I came across a shit-ton of information that you’re going to want to hear for yourself…Rook and Stone too. I met someone who knows all about those girls that went missing, and your uncle’s hand in it.” Bender’s lips quirk with a funny smile. “Hope you’re up for meeting the leader of the cartel.”

* * *

Having never set foot in a drug cartel’s compound, I had no idea what to expect other than a shit-ton of security. After Stu and Keevan are stripped of their weapons at the gates, we’re greeted by dozens of armed guards standing watch among kids laughing and playing in the dirt roads. Rows of houses rival my uncle’s, their driveways filled with ATVs, European motorcycles, and hundred thousand dollar cars.

While Bender gives directions to Stu from the bench beside me, and Stone’s impatient breath falls on my shoulder from the Jeep’s bed, Rook’s knee bounces like a jackhammer. He’s been the most eager of anyone to discover the truth behind Trask’s death, and find a way to avenge him. I only hope it’ll finally end this riff between us, so we can leave the past behind.

We park outside the largest mansion, following Bender to the front door. We’re greeted by half a dozen guys carrying ARs, and thoroughly searched by a beautiful Guamanian woman donning a black flap jacket.

Stone chortles as she’s patting between his legs. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.”

The woman’s touch becomes forceful enough to make Stone wince. The rest of us chuckle before we’re led into the bowels of the fortress.

The drug business is obviously flourishing the way the place is pimped out. Gold accents on the walls and ceilings, crystal chandeliers bigger than an SUV, marble floors—clearly there’s nothing this guy can’t afford. Even the indoor pool we pass is adorned in gold and crystals. Way too flashy for my liking.

There’s a larger pool out back connected to a lazy river that’s flanked by palm trees and hundreds of tiny lights. Among a remarkable outdoor kitchen, fireplace, full-service bar complete with a bartender, and a two-story guest house, a stone patio stretches the full length of the house. Two men in their late thirties or early forties sit on loungers beside it, watching as four topless women around my age play a game of water volleyball.

One of the men hurries to his feet when he sees us approaching. He’s exceptionally tall and fit, longer dark hair neatly combed back, beard and mustache well-groomed, big diamond studs in each ear. His white button-down and linen shorts remind me of Terrance’s style, only it’s fitting on this guy.

“Ah…Bender…mi amigo!” Throwing my brother a pleasant smile, the man claps his hands together. “I heard you were bringing visitors.”

Bender leads the introductions between us and Angel Santos, calling me “King Marty’s nephew.” Irritated that he didn’t introduce me as his brother, I shake the cartel leader’s hand with a grunted greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he tells me in a thick accent as his dark eyes size me up. “Your uncle has told me so much about you.”

Turning to the women still thrashing around in the water, he lets out a sharp whistle. “¡Tiempo para entrar… rápido!”

The women immediately stop what they’re doing and head to a nearby ladder. They’re giggling as they file out, throwing us suggestive smiles and winks as they trail behind Angel’s associate. I don’t bother taking a closer look, knowing there isn’t another woman alive who could even begin to compare to my Zoe.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back,” Angel tells us. “And as my guests, you’re welcome to use them for your enjoyment. It’s my gift to you for coming all this way.”

Stone grunts in an appreciative sound, and I catch Stu and Keevan exchanging wide-eyed grins. If this guy weren’t the leader of an infamous cartel, I’d be tempted to throttle him for offering the women up like they’re appetizers. When I remember Zoe saying she was hired for Martyrs of Mayhem parties, I’m ready to spew. If I ever hear they used her for anything other than dancing, I’ll torch their clubhouse.

Angel starts walking toward the bar. “Come, my new friends. We’ll enjoy the best tequila while I tell you what you travelled all this way to hear.”

We follow him to a massive teak wood table. The bartender begins handing out margaritas from a large tray before everyone has settled. While I appreciate the niceties, my patience has worn thin.

“What do you know about my uncle’s involvement in organ trafficking?” I blurt, setting my untouched drink on the table as I claim the seat beside Angel.

He takes a sip of his drink before setting it down and locking his dark eyes with mine. “I know your uncle was not the one killing them.”

Gut twisted in knots, I shift in my seat, briefly eyeing Rook across the table. “How would you know?”

Angel strokes his beard while sizing me up. Have to say it makes me a little uncomfortable to be sitting across from someone with his power. “We were already partners when King Marty approached me years ago, wondered if I wanted to get involved in the business of selling kidneys on the black market. He assured me he had found willing donors, mostly students at the university who wanted to pay off their school debts. I had my hands in more than I could handle at the time, so I respectfully declined. Five years ago, your uncle came here asking for my protection. He said his head man was harvesting every last one of the donor’s organs behind his back. Once they heard your uncle was onto their business practices, they tipped the feds off about our operation. They wanted your uncle put away before he could shut them down.”

I let out a slow breath and rub my tired face. All these years I wanted to believe my uncle had nothing to do with Trask’s murder, and it would seem I finally have proof. And it makes perfect sense that Terrance is worried about my uncle’s location—especially if he’s still harvesting organs.

Rook’s face has turned a sickly shade of pale. “It was Terrance, wasn’t it?”

Angel dips his chin. “Sí. Terrance Fisher.” Then he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “King Marty returned home after we received word there’s been a new influx of organs coming from the Midwest. He believes Terrance resumed business. He’s determined to shut him down, angry someone he trusted messed with his empire.”

I rub at my temples, still unable to process the fact that my uncle chose not to tell me the truth all this time. “If everything you said is true, why didn’t my uncle tell me Terrance was behind it?”

Angel’s eyes narrow. “He knew how much you suffered when Terrance ordered a hit on your amigo. He didn’t want you getting involved—knew there was a chance you’d get killed too.”

“Motherfucker!” Rook snarls, shooting to his feet. Hands threaded behind his head, he wanders back to the pool area.

I feel his anger rushing through my own blood, choking me from inside out. All this time, Trask’s murderer was within my reach. There’s no question that Terrance will have to pay for what he did. It’s just a matter of how.

Angel’s associate returns, bending to whisper something to Angel, exposing a pistol tucked into his shorts in the process. Our host’s features draw tight and he nods gravely before standing. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have urgent business to attend to. Please, stay and order as many drinks as you’d like. I’ll send the señoritas back out for your enjoyment.” He holds his hand out for me to shake. “It was truly my pleasure, Ryker. If there’s anything I can do to make your stay on my island more enjoyable, don’t hesitate to ask. As King Marty’s nephew, you can always count on me when you need something—even once you’ve returned home.”

I shake his hand, unsurprised when I feel a rush of relief as he walks away. Nice enough guy, but I’m eager to get the hell out of this place.

“I was wrong about your uncle,” Bender tells me, motioning to Rook. “We all were. I wanted you to hear the truth for yourself. Whatever Trask said to Rook before he died was either a lie, or Terrance was forcing him to implicate King Marty as the head of the operation.”

Stone grunts, upper lip curling. “A fucking letter would’ve worked just as well.”

Rook returns, fingers threaded through his long hair, eyes rimmed, face long. He appears even more jet lagged than I feel. “Every goddamned time I think back to that day—the conversation I had with Trask before he was shanked—it goes a little differently. I couldn’t tell you what he said without second guessing myself.” Blowing out a long breath, he glances my way. “I was so ready to crucify your uncle that I may have only heard what I wanted.”

“I get it,” I say, lifting one shoulder. “I’d convinced myself he was responsible too.”

The four topless women come skipping out of the house, giggling with each other as they make a bee-line toward us.

Stone watches them closely, wetting his lips. “We staying, or what?”

“Knock yourself out,” I tell him as he’s already standing. I wave a hand in Stu and Keevan’s direction. “Go ahead. Consider it part of your tip.”

Stone hoists one of the women over his shoulder, leading another toward the guest house by her hand. The other two start for Stu and Keevan.

“They’ll be lucky if their dicks don’t fall off,” Rook says, snorting before sucking down the rest of his drink.

I turn to Bender. “Now that we know you’re good, we’re heading back first flight we can get out of here first thing tomorrow. You coming with?”

“Not sure. I kind of like it here.” His eyes snap away from mine. “Angel and his crew treat me with respect.”

“You saying I don’t?”

“Not always.” Looking back at me, he shrugs. “But it means something that you came all this way to find me.”

“You thought I wouldn’t? For fuck’s sake, Ben. You’re my brother.” When he continues to appear unconvinced that I give a shit, I grab his elbow. “Sorry if it seems like I’ve been a dick to you. Believe it or not, I love you. I know we weren’t raised to say that kind of shit, but I’m starting to think you need to hear it. I miss having your annoying ass around the shop, and in the band.” I take a sweeping glance over my shoulder, ensuring Angel’s men aren’t listening before I lean in closer. “Don’t stay here, Ben. I don’t want you getting involved in this shit. Come back with us…see how far we can take the band. Stone sent a demo to his cousin, and his producer wants us to visit his studio in New York. We could quit boosting cars and earn an honest living.”

Rook sets his glass on the table, one eyebrow lifted. “You serious?”

I answer with a slow nod, all at once feeling guilty for bringing it up in front of him. “Hope you know there’s always a spot for you. One of you two could learn to play rhythm, or even lead along with me.”

My old friend seems tongue-tied by a distant thought as my phone begins to buzz in my pocket. Finally. I whip it out, swearing to myself when seeing Morrison’s name on the screen.

“Why the fuck hasn’t Zoe called me back?” I bark.

There’s a heavy pause as Morrison clears his throat. “You need to come home.”