Prologue

Tex

I sat back in my squeaky office chair and sipped my coffee with a fierce frown at the error message on my computer screen.

I cleared it just as my phone buzzed with a text. Before I could check to see if it was Melody calling from her mini getaway with our daughters, more messages began to pop up on the screen. One after the other after the other after the other littered my screen like roaches crawling from the woodwork.

“What the hell?” I leaned forward and slammed my mug down, my stomach dropping to my feet as dread slithered through my gut. This was more than a simple virus. I could feel it. I clicked a few buttons, trying to clear the errors. Nothing. “Damn it!”

My phone was going crazy now, as was my computer.

I grabbed my cell phone and took the call without checking the caller ID, something I never did. “What?” I barked, fully pissed now.

“Tex?”

My eyes moved away from the screen at the concern in my buddy’s voice. “Wolf? What is it, man?”

“Something’s fucking wrong, brother.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Tell me about it. My computer is acting all kinds of crazy right now.”

“You, too?” Now he sounded flat-out scared, which had the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention.

“What do you mean me, too? What the hell is going on?” I spun in my chair and leapt to pace to the window, peering out the blinds at the empty, dark street, my heart suddenly racing. My SEAL instincts were kicking into high gear as I mentally catalogued every house, every car, every shadow, and where every weapon was located in my house.

“The team’s all at my place, man, and so is the Marine Recon Unit that took Mendez down with us a few months ago.” He took a breath. “We were all hacked this morning, and we all received packages. Hand-delivered. To our fucking front doors.”

I turned and unlocked my gun box, tucked my Glock into my waist band, then sprinted out of my study and down the hall toward my front door as fast as I could with my prosthetic leg. “What was in them?”

The phone hung with dead silence as I skidded to a halt near my door.

“Wolf!”

Sigh.

I held my hand on the cold metal knob. “What’s in the packages, man?”

“Remember the envelopes that were delivered to Senator Lytle before the gala?”

I had vague recollections of surveillance photos of our teams and our women, the senator, his wife, family, and staff, and the veiled threats the Mexican drug cartel that had kidnapped the senator’s daughter had eventually made good on . . . or tried to before we took their leader down. “Yeah.”

“Worse.”

“Christ.”

I kept one hand on my pistol as I unlocked the door and inched it open. Outside, the street was quiet. The air was sweet from Melody’s roses and the scent of rain in the distance. I scoured the perimeter. Not a soul in sight. Nothing. I heaved a sigh of relief.

Then I saw it.

There, propped in the corner behind Akilah’s bike. A yellow business envelope. No markings, no nothing. I yanked it up, glanced around, then rushed back inside and locked the door behind me.

“Tex?” Wolf asked.

“Yeah.” I moved back to my study and collapsed back into my chair, the envelope in my lap.

“Did you get a package?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” He muffled the phone and I heard him tell the rest of the team as their voices mixed in the background, combined with some of the women. He came back on the line. “Did you open it?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m doing it now. Gimme a second.”

Carefully, I broke the seal with a letter opener then dumped the contents of the envelope straight out onto my desk to avoid touching them just in case there was any evidence to be collected. But, as I took inventory of the images before me, it was clear there would be none. We were dealing with someone new. Someone entirely too smart to leave behind trace evidence.

Just as before, recent surveillance photos of the entire team and our wives—Wolf, Caroline, Abe, Alabama, Cookie, Fiona, Mozart, Summer, Dude, Cheyenne, Benny, and Jessyka, as well as me and Melody. But it didn’t stop there. They had picture of the Marines we’d become friends with—Tito, Red, Maverick, Bubba, Kid, and Lucky. And? And the sick bastards had taken pictures of some of the team’s family members and our children.

“SIN PIEDAD” had been carved in blood red ink over the baby’s faces. Over Hope’s face . . . my daughter. No mercy.

The threat was blatant. More than ballsy, considering who he was messing with.

But who was he?

I raked a hand over my head. My eyes blurred. Bile rose in my throat.

There, in black and white, was the evidence of someone out for more than vengeance. He was out for the love of the game . . . the love of the kill.

“Tex?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s the blonde?”

“What?”

Things quieted as he moved to another room and a door closed. “We were able to figure out who all the people in the pictures were except for one. Mostly parents, siblings, a couple cousins. But not the cute blonde. Does she belong to you or Melody?”

I rifled through the pictures until I found the girl in question and narrowed my gaze, cataloguing her features. Petite, maybe five feet, if that. A buck twenty, soaking wet. Chin-length, curly, bottle-platinum blonde hair, huge baby blue eyes. Cute as a button, and she wore innocence like I wore my prosthetic.

“Nope,” I finally said. “Never seen her before in my life. Maybe—” Before I could finish my thought, my computer made a sound and a chat box popped up.

El Lobo Blanco: Did you receive our package?

Ice filled my veins. Who the fuck was The White Wolf and why hadn’t I ever heard of this hacker?

Tex: Who is this?

Instead of answering, a photo simply popped up, making my heart freeze painfully in my chest. I blinked, clearing my vision to be sure I was seeing it correctly.

Melody and Akilah, laughing by the lake as Hope dipped her toes in the water. Timestamped yesterday, 6:07 p.m.

“I gotta go,” I mumbled to Wolf, ending the call without waiting for his reply and immediately dialing Melody. It rolled straight to voicemail. I cursed and threw the phone down on my desk.

El Lobo Blanco: Any more questions? Or do I need to further get your attention?

Without waiting for my reply, another image popped up. The girls going to their cabin at night, happy smiles on their faces. Timestamped yesterday, 8:48 p.m.

Then another photo. This time, the blonde I didn’t recognize dressed in a waitress’s uniform, stepping out of a beat-up old truck in front of a small, nondescript house. Timestamped today, 10:01 a.m.

El Lobo Blanco: Your wife and daughters are very beautiful. So is your cousin. It would be a shame if something bad were to happen to them.

Cousin? I didn’t have any cousins.

My mind began to tick through my entire family, but I couldn’t fucking think. All I could focus on was the fact that some sick bastard had taken photos of my wife and daughters and I was here, hundreds of miles away and helpless. I tried Melody’s cell again. No answer. I fumbled around for the number she’d left me to the resort. The line was busy.

“Goddamn it!”

Tex: What do you want?

El Lobo Blanco: Glad to see you are finally listening.

I bit back a growl of rage as the cursor blinked tauntingly back at me.

My phone rang and I snatched it up, praying it was Melody. “Hello?”

“What the hell, man?” Wolf’s voice was an echo as the blood rushed through my ears and words began to appear on the screen.

My mouth opened, closed, opened again as rage poured through my body. I’d never, ever in my life been filled with this kind of wrath.

I stood, ready to go storm the gates of hell if need be.

El Lobo Blanco: We want you all to die . . .