Grayson leaned on the opened back door of the SUV and waited until Hawk took off from the small, secluded grass strip near the Mexican border to go to the compound and pick up Caleb and Levi.  When the noise faded, he looked at Dante Girabaldi, who was about to get into the driver’s side of the vehicle.

“Okay, before we go to the safe house, you are going to tell me why you know where a safe house is,” Grayson said, refusing to budge until he had that answer.

He just did not trust this close-mouthed man any more than he trusted the man’s sister now.  Michaela Girabaldi couldn’t have forgotten that much.  She had withheld that information, those notebooks and the journal, from him for a reason.  He couldn’t get that sneaking suspicion out of his mind. 

For now, Gray was giving her the benefit of the doubt, because her fear was real.  Once he examined those books and researched those accounts, he withheld the right to change his mind.

“Suffice it to say, I’m sticking my neck out here.  Stop asking questions and be satisfied that you have a safe place to go.”

He was sticking his neck out?  What a pompous ass. Gray’s neck was laying on the stump and he felt the axe blade trimming the hairs at the back of his neck. 

“I said I am not getting into this vehicle until you tell me who you are,” Gray repeated, his fists clenching.  “Who are you are with—the mob?  Or is that your cover?”

“Just get in the damned SUV or I’ll leave you standing right here!” Dante shouted, opening the door to get inside.  He cranked the SUV, revved the engine and Gray knew he wasn’t kidding.  Gray dove inside the backseat as he put the SUV in gear and launched it, then barely got the door shut as it fishtailed down the road.

Michaela snickered, and he glared over at her. “What’s so damned funny?” Gray asked, grinding his teeth.

“You should never doubt Dante means what he says,” she replied. “Ask my other three brothers.”

God, there were more like this crazy bastard?  Even more reason for Gray to get away from Ms. Girabaldi and her mob as soon as he possibly could.

“I should have just let him leave me there, because I mean what I say too,” Gray shot back, folding his arms over his chest.  “Where would you be then?  That money isn’t going to find itself, and I doubt Stallone up there has the gray matter or time to help you with that.  He’s too busy perfecting his Rambo act, now that he has Pacino down pat.”

“Vaffanculo, stronzo.  You obviously don’t have it either, or you’d have found it by now.” Dante glared at him in the rearview.  “You staying behind would’ve been no loss. Keep up your shit and I’ll drop you off here.”

Gray looked outside the window at the wide open fields of scrub and cactus, chewed the inside of his cheek, and decided to let things drop.  But as soon as Hawk brought back the laptop he requested, Gray was going to show this arrogant son-of-a-bitch exactly what he could do.  He just hoped there was internet service at this safe house out in the middle of nowhere. 

His phone rang in his pocket, and Gray pulled it out.  “Hi, Derek,” he said after glancing at the display. “Thanks for calling back, I need some help, man.” 

God, where did he start and how much should he tell him?  Derek was about the only one he trusted at the agency, but that trust wasn’t implicit.  They’d worked together to gather all the information to put Mona away, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Not when millions of dollars were paid to bad actors to grease the wheels of the cartel.

“Good to hear from you, buddy.  What can I do for you?” Derek asked, then cleared his throat.  “Is this about Mona getting out?”

“She’s out?” Gray asked, and his stomach muscles clenched.

“Got out last week, then disappeared.  I hope she’s not trying to get back in with Zetas again.  I think she wore her welcome out with them and she’ll quickly find that out.  They don’t need her now that she has no power to help them.”

Derek’s statement wasn’t unusual. He spoke the truth, but the smug manner in which his former co-worker said it bothered Gray.  Because Derek now had that power.

“I don’t suppose she would be of much use to them now, but she’s not why I’m calling.  I need to know if you’ve heard anything about Zetas being connected with the east coast mob on a recent gun transaction.  I also need to know what the temperature is in Acapulco right now.”

“The mob isn’t our area, you know,” Derek replied. “As for Acapulco, it’s just the same as it’s always been.  The players change, but we’ll probably be fighting that war for years.”

“I know you’re not on the mob task force, but I know Zetas is always looking for business opportunities and so is the mob.  They both deal in the same products and use the same methods, so a collaboration wouldn’t be out of the realm.  Birds of a feather?”  The mob was just a different type of street gang, a more well-dressed, well-equipped, and slicker one.

“If those birds were flocking, I would know about it, but I haven’t heard anything,” Derek replied smoothly.

“Have you ever heard of Vincent Girabaldi? Girabaldi Enterprises?” Gray asked, and there was a long pause.  He glanced at the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

“Name doesn’t ring a bell,” Derek finally replied. “Why do you ask?” His odd tone raised the hair on the back of Gray’s neck.  Something was off with this conversation.

“Oh, no reason—just asking for a friend,” Gray replied, wanting to kick himself in the balls for mentioning Girabaldi’s name.  No, for calling Derek at all.

“Sorry I’m not able to help, bud.  So where are you at now?” Derek’s question sounded just a bit more than causal to Gray, which made him even more tense.

“Look, thanks for calling back, but I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you next week so we can catch up.” Gray hung up the phone and replayed the conversation in his mind.

“Who was that?” Mickie asked, her eyes burning the side of his face.

“A former co-worker I thought might be able to help me get information.  He had nothing,” Gray replied.

“An FBI agent?” she squeaked. “On that task force you talked about?  What if he is one of the apples who didn’t get weeded?” Mickie asked, surprising him that she put that together.

“He actually helped me take down that woman I told you about, so I don’t believe he’s a bad actor.” Yes, you do, but you’re not going to admit that to her.  That call had been a mistake—one he wouldn’t be repeating.  His eyes swung to the back of Dante Girabaldi’s head to see if he was listening and Gray breathed when he saw he was on his phone too.

When he hung up, Gray leaned forward.  “I need you to check with your connections to find out if the mob was in bed with Los Zetas on any business deals.”  Whether Dante was a made man or an undercover agent, he would probably be able to get that information.

“Why?” Dante asked, shooting him a look in the rearview.  “Because you’ve stepped off into a pile of shit and you want me to clean it off of your shoes?” he growled as he looked back to the road.  “That call was a stupid move, testa di cazzo.”

Gray couldn’t argue that point.

“Look—we’re both trying to accomplish the same thing here—to help your sister.  I don’t care who you’re in bed with, but I have reason to suspect it’s not just the mob we’re dealing with here.  I need your help.”

“I’ll make some calls when we get to the house.  You don’t make any more calls. Got that?” Dante replied. 

Or what, you gonna fit me for a pair of concrete shoes, tough guy? Maybe leave a horse’s head in my bed tonight? 

With an eye roll, Gray nodded, deciding to play nice—for now.  His phone was about dead anyway, and he didn’t have his charger. He leaned his head on the headrest and closed his eyes.  He didn’t want to know where they were going, he would just be happy to finally be able to relax for a few minutes.  Every muscle in his body ached and his head hurt. 

A small, warm hand dropped on his thigh and he opened one eye to glance at Michaela.  She unfastened her seat belt then slid toward him.  His arm raised on its own to find its place behind her shoulders and he pulled her into his side.  She snuggled into him and placed her hand over his heart, and it melted when she sighed as if she’d finally found a comfortable, safe space to hide.

The anger left him and he resented that she made him feel like he wanted to always be that safe place for her.  It just didn’t make sense.  She irritated him most of the time, was accused of serious crimes she could well be guilty of, and yet, here he was.

It was apparent that Gray hadn’t learned from his mistakes at all, because he was well on his way to repeating them with her.  Their relationship was totally different than his with Mona, but the same circumstances.  He should know better than to let himself fall in love with her, but he just couldn’t make himself jump off the crazy train that was headed in that direction.  He would be on board the train when it hit that brick wall at full speed, and deal with the injuries he sustained. 

Just like he had before.  For a smart man, he was awfully stupid when it came to women, but he wasn’t blind and he didn’t have a death wish.  If he found out she was guilty, he would treat her the same way he had Mona.

That reminded him―before his phone died, he needed to get Mac on finding Mona, so he could keep an eye on her.  He didn’t need a fourth prong to fight in this battle.  Hearing Michaela’s soft, kitten-like snores, he eased his arm from behind her shoulders to pull out his phone.

“Don’t pull out that phone, or I will shoot you,” Dante growled, and Gray’s eyes streaked up to meet his in the rearview.  “In fact, hand it to me.”  He reached his hand back palm up like Gray’s mother used to do to collect gum, which he was not allowed to chew.

Michaela stirred and grumbled.  “Would you two please stop arguing?” she hissed, swatting Gray’s stomach. “If you don’t, I might shoot both of you and take my chances with the mob.”

They were in the middle of nowhere, this man was at the wheel and had already threatened to drop him off on the side of the road.  He wouldn’t be of much help to Michaela if that happened, and who knew if he was making an idle threat about shooting him. 

After a minute-long stare-down with him in the mirror, Gray slapped his phone into Pacino’s palm and sat back against the seat.  Cool air rushed in as he rolled down his window.  Gray vaulted forward to grab his phone, but he threw it out of the window. 

“You’ll be next, so don’t push me,” Dante growled, rolling the window back up.