“They’re here,” Kane said, pushing to his feet. He dropped his cigarette to the porch’s wooden floor and ground it out under his feel.

Finn didn’t respond. The man had sank into one of the porch’s two chairs — his a rocking chair — but he’d remained unmoving for the past forty minutes.

Kane was almost out of smokes. He had more in the Jeep, but it felt…wrong…leaving Finn alone on the porch.

Like he’d come back and find the man armed with an ax, chopping up furniture inside the farm.

It was his silence. The complete lack of expression on Finn’s face. Kane had seen a lot in his years on the force, but this? It was like the man had shut down.

A car’s lamps illuminated the two ruts that served as a road leading to the farmhouse. They drove almost right up to the porch; no need for stealth if they knew the place was empty.

Lars had been driving. He slammed the door as he came around the front of the car.

Bailey let out a low, “Lars, wait—” as he climbed out of the car, stretching an imploring hand towards the tall, blond headed guy.

Lars ignored him. He stormed up the stairs and hauled Milo up by the front of his shirt. “So that’s it? We’re just giving up?” he yelled in Milo’s face.

Milo peeled Lars’s fingers off his clothes, and then pushed the man aside with the back of his hand. “You got a better idea?”

“Yeah!” Lars called after him as Milo headed for the SUV. Let’s fucking go find her!”

“How?” Milo pivoted on his heel, head at an angle. His voice was low, dangerous. “Tell me how, Lars.” He stepped closer to Lars. “Because if you know some way to track her? To find out where the fuck Zachary’s taken her? Anything!” Milo took the two steps up the porch and shoved Lars with the flat of his hand. “Then you’d better fucking tell me.”

“Guys, come on!”

Kane looked toward the SUV. Ana, the pretty blond from the party, slid out of the back of the car.

Bailey, meanwhile, had gone around the back and looked to be wrestling with something.

No, someone.

“Who’s that?” Kane called, lighting himself a fresh cigarette as he trotted down the stairs and headed for the SUV.

“This fucker?” Bailey said, hauling a slim Mexican out of the SUV by his hair. “This is supposed to be Cora’s partner.”

Kane stopped in his tracks. The hand holding his cigarette fell limply to his side.

ECV’s second capo.

Hoofuckingrah; Christmas in November.

He drew deep on his cigarette, stepping aside as Bailey dragged the Mexican up the porch steps. He was handsome, clean cut — not even a tattoo in sight.

Maybe that was the DEA’s problem these days. They assumed cartel leaders were all criminals who’d slowly worked their way up the hierarchy, accumulating scars, criminal records, and tattoos as the years passed.

But Eleodora Rivera was nothing but a girl; she could have easily posed as a socialite and no one would have been the wiser. This guy? Despite his slightly creased clothes, he wouldn’t have raised a single eyebrow at any gala or fundraiser.

“You!” came Milo’s bellow as soon as the man spotted the Mexican. He lunged forward, pushing past Lars when the man tried to keep him back, and threw a punch that knocked the Mexican right from Bailey’s grip.

Dust swirled in the SUV’s headlamps as Neo tried to push himself to his feet. His hands and feet had been bound, so he hadn’t made any progress by the time Milo reached him again.

A boot landed squarely in the Neo’s stomach. He rolled over twice before coming to a groaning stop by the second headlamp.

His clothes were dusty now, his face contorted in agony. He lifted bounds hands, but Milo didn’t seem to give a shit. He hauled the man up by the front of his shirt and struck him so hard that his head snapped to the side.

“Milo! You’re going to kill him!” Lars yelled as he hurried down the porch.

But, surprisingly, he didn’t try and stop Milo. He hovered like a concerned parent, but didn’t interfere.

Perhaps he knew what would happen if he did.

Perhaps Milo would turn on him instead.

Milo got in another three punches before Neo was knocked unconscious. Then he released him and stepped away, breathing heavily as he watched the limp body slide to the dirt.

Kane glanced up at everyone’s faces, each painting a different story.

The woman had her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and brimming with tears. Bailey had a grim set to his jaw, but whether that was because he hoped Milo had kept punching or not was a mystery.

Lars looked a touch more pale than usual, but also relieved. Especially when he reached out and touched tentative fingers to Milo’s bicep.

“He’s no use to us if he’s dead,” Lars said, just loud enough for Kane to hear. “Remember that.”

Milo shrugged off Lars’s touch with a growl, and scanned everyone’s faces as if wondering where in the hell they’d come from. It was as if a fog had cleared; Milo blinked a few times, the snarl slowly fading from his face.

“We have to search this place,” Milo said. “This whole fucking property.”

“How big—” Lars began, but Milo simply raised his voice.

“If it takes us all fucking day.”

Kane glanced down at his watch. “Only about an hour and a half left on this day,” he said, directing his voice to Milo. “Moonlight helps, of course, but we might miss something.”

Furious blue eyes darted to him, but then Milo looked down.

Logic prevailed, of course. He knew they’d get nowhere in the dark.

“I can’t just—” Milo began, before cutting off. Lars grabbed his shoulder, squeezing his trapezius as a faint, twisted smile touched his mouth.

“We’re doing the best we can, Milo.”

He thought the burly guy would shrug away that touch, but instead Milo reached up and laid his hand over Lars’s. They didn’t look at each other, instead both staring at the unconscious Neo as if he somehow held the answer to their questions.

Which, apparently, he did.

Milo stormed inside the farmhouse, and came out with a bucket of water. He poured it over the Mexican’s head, prodded him with his boot, and then went to fetch another.

The second roused the man enough for him to start spluttering while the last pint of water splashed over his face.

He kicked out, crying out as he manouvered himself into a sit against the SUV’s grille.

“Fuck!”

“Wakey, wakey, Neo.” Lars stepped closer, putting his hands on his knees as he bent down to bring his face eye level with the coughing Neo. “It’s time you started cooperating.”

“Fuck you!” Neo snapped. He used his bounds hands to swipe water from his face, and then pointed at Lars. “I’m not telling you a—”

Lars grabbed that finger and twisted.

Kane heard the bone breaking from where he stood with his arms resting on the porch’s railing. He took another deep drag of his cigarette, and turned to watch the woman clump up the porch steps.

He held out a hand, raising his voice over Neo’s agonized scream. “Kane,” he said.

The woman took a second to look at him, and then blinked slowly. “Ana.” She shook his hand with as much strength as a wet fish before turning wide eyes back to Neo’s interrogation.

“Where did your friend take her?” Lars asked slowly.

Neo shook his head, spraying Lars and Milo with droplets of water. “I don’t know! He never said—”

Milo kicked him in the kidneys.

“He’s gonna piss blood for a week,” Kane remarked idly, his words tainted with cigarette smoke.

“C-can I have one?” Ana asked, pointed at his cigarette with a trembling hand.

“Sure thing, beautiful,” Kane said around his smoke as he fumbled in his pocket. He lit one for the woman, and held it out for her to take.

She closed her eyes, dragging hard, and then swiped at a tear with her thumb. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“He must have told you something,” Lars said cheerily, again bending down like he was addressing a pre-schooler. “I know it’s hard for someone like you to think, Neo, but do try. It might just save your fucking life.”

“Doubt it,” Milo said as he laid another brutal kick to the man’s kidneys.

“Fuck you!”

“That all you got?” Lars wore a wide smile now, but it was too frigid to be true. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Even your father was more original than that.”

Neo spat in Lars’s face, and received a boot heel in his groin from Milo. Lars straightened, wiping spittle from his face with a sleeve. He happened to glance up at Kane, and they held eye contact for a few seconds before Lars looked away.

The man obviously hadn’t remembered anything of their encounter. Not the weed, not the rohypnol he’d slipped him, not their kiss.

Kane finished his smoke, flicked it away, and went down the porch steps. Bailey stood a few feet behind Lars, and he looked up at Kane’s approach. Then he held out an arm, as if to stop Kane from interfering.

“You know Zachary’s going to find out about this, right?” Kane said, raising his voice over the crunch of Milo’s fist connecting with Neo’s jaw. “How you ratted him out to a DEA agent?”

Muzzy, bloodshot eyes peered up at him. Blood trickled from Neo’s mouth and nose, but he was thankfully still conscious.

“Wha’?” Neo said, the word muffled as if Milo had knocked a few teeth loose.

Fuck, he probably had.

Kane rummaged in his suit and drew out his DEA badge. Milo had given it back to him in the car—an act of generosity he’d found strange but hadn’t questioned.

Perhaps the man had already known they wouldn’t find Eleodora here. Perhaps he realized it would only be a few hours until he and his entire crew were down at the police station, answering some very tough questions about their level of involvement with the ECV cartel. It might have been his way of racking up a few brownie points before the hammer fell on what would no doubt be a lengthy sentence.

Neo mouth gaped as he tried to focus on the badge, and then he drew back like it was a crucifix and, he, a demon.

“I didn’t say anything,” Neo spat. “Nothing!”

“You really think that’s how Zachary’s going to see this?” Kane stepped closer, and Bailey dropped his arm to allow him to pass. Even Lars stepped aside, grimacing as he wiped at his face.

Kane crouched in front of Neo, badge dangling absently from the hand draped over one knee.

“Because I think the fact that you’ve been given immunity in an ongoing investigation against the Plata o Plomo cartel is going to speak volumes about just how much of a snitch you are.”

Neo’s already pale face became bloodless. “I didn’t—you can’t—” But his words spluttered out when he realized Kane could.

And Kane would.

Cartel fucking scum.

He’d burn down a hospital if he knew a capo and his lieutenants were inside because when it came to filth like them, the ends always justified the means.

“So, one last time…” Kane leaned closer, the fingertips of his other hand pressing into the dirt so he could keep his balance. “What did Zachary plan to do with Eleodora?”

Neo’s eyes flashed wild, skipping over Kane’s face. His mouth worked hard for a few seconds. “I…I don’t know. But—” and then he flinched, as if already expecting another blow from Milo.

But even the restless giant at Kane’s side had gone quiet, entranced.

“But?” Kane prompted, turning his head a little so he could study Neo from the corner of his eye.

“But…” Neo licked his lips, leaving a bright slash of red blood over his top lip. “He said he couldn’t wait to finally have her to himself.”

A strange turn of phrase…

“What does that mean?”

Neo shrugged, glancing around. “I don’t know. I mean, from what Sylvia told me, he’s got like a hundred people just living on his property.”

“This one?” Kane asked, gesturing.

Another shrug. “I’m sure he’s got lots of places.”

“No one works here,” Milo said in his rough voice. “This place is a dump.”

“You sure?” Neo’s look became frantic.

“We still have to search the place,” came Bailey’s voice. From the sound of it, he’d stepped closer. All four of them now surrounded Neo, and it looked like he was sweating fucking bullets.

At least he wasn’t idiotic enough not to know when he was in deep, deep shit.

Kane rose, and the other three men stepped back.

They might have fooled themselves by saying it was to give him enough space to stand, but he knew better.

Kane Price was in charge of this operation now.

And their first order of business was tracking down and killing Zachary West.