It was ten thirty-six in the morning.

Five minutes had passed since I’d finally been summoned.

Two since I confessed to breaking into Emilio’s office, hacking into his computer, and reporting what I’d found.

Zero since getting a response.

Meeting Alex hadn’t seemed so risky before, but the longer I sat inside the shitty sedan watching patrons file in and out of Caliente, a rock settled deep in the pit of my stomach. It was almost time for the lunch rush, and Amanda would blow up my phone soon. I couldn’t risk Emilio noticing I’d disappeared. As a precaution, I’d snuck out the backdoor and walked an entire block out of the way to avoid being seen.

They had to park across the fucking street.

“So he has a file on your father,” Alex finally said, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” Shaking his head, he pressed a button on his door and cracked his window barely an inch.

I wrinkled my nose at the smell. “What do you mean? My father is dead. He was murdered by the cartel you expect me to betray. How are you not seeing the connection?”

After taking a long drag off the end of his cigarette, he pulled it out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “You said you emailed it to yourself because there were other files on there.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what were they? What damning evidence do you have, Agent Harcourt? What secret code did you crack to bring down the beast?”

I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them. This was the part I dreaded telling him. “It never sent.”

His hand paused midway to his mouth. “Beg your pardon?”

I took a breath to calm my racing heart. “I said, it didn’t send. When I logged into my account this morning the email wasn’t there.”

Alex shoved the cigarette in between his lips and grinned. “Imagine that.”

It took everything I had not to rip the damn thing out of his mouth and ram it in his eye.

“There’s something in those files,” I insisted. “Why the hell would Emilio Reyes have personal information on my father? Don’t you find that a bit odd?”

“Frankly, Miss Harcourt, I find everything about your family a bit odd.” Annoyed, he turned to face me. “Did you ever stop to think maybe Reyes has a file on each one of you? I assume he’d be a shitty lieutenant if he didn’t know everything about Brody’s family.”

“You don’t think he knows about—”

Alex was quick to dismiss me. “No. I told you, they’re in a secure location. Hell, you don’t even know where they are.”

I nodded, thankful, even though it felt like a rabid animal had devoured my heart. “Why haven’t you ever brought me to an office?” I asked, dread blooming in my stomach. “Even after what happened in San Marcos, you never took any official reports. I thought a DEA agent had to do stuff like that by law.” I realized it was the first time I’d ever asked such a simple question.

Alex rolled his eyes as if he was insulted. “I like being in the open air. Corporate shit isn’t my style. Why? Do you want me to write up an official report? I will, if you insist, Leighton. Of course, I don’t think you’d like how you’d look on paper.”

“You were the one sitting outside Eden Lachey’s old townhouse. Weren’t you?”

“Me? No, stakeouts aren’t my thing anymore. I leave that to Swenson. But, yeah, I know you’re shacking up with Mateo Cortes.”

“I’m not—”

He held up his hand. “It wasn’t in the original agreement, but obviously, this isn’t a ‘by the book’ kind of case. I’ll look the other way so you can do whatever it is you have to do.”

“What I have to do?” I repeated.

He sliced his hand through the air. “Look, I don’t want to know what goes on between the sheets. Just get me something I can use.”

I didn’t know whether to be shocked or offended he’d just given me the green light to whore myself out. Even I knew that wasn’t standard operating procedure, and it didn’t sit well with me. Regardless, I should’ve just taken the gift for what it was and be thankful he didn’t know about my past with Mateo.

“So, do you have any pillow talk for me?” he asked, flicking the cigarette through the crack in his window.

I swear to fuck, when this is all over, I’m going to have his badge.

“First of all, you’re out of line,” I hissed. “Someone ran me off the road. I stayed with Mateo because it wasn’t safe at my brother’s place. Don’t read anything into it. Secondly, no, all I found out was that Valentin Carrera sent him to look out for me.”

He tapped his index finger against the dimple in his chin, his eyes glittering with curiosity. “Why do you think he’s looking out for you? You’re a threat to them. After all, you killed one of their men.”

Panicked, I said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the DEA. Why are you asking me?”

He seemed strangely amused. “Fine, but next time, I want something on Cortes. Also, get back in Reyes’s office. You said there’s a safe? I want in it. Blow the motherfucker up if you have to.”

He glanced at his watch, and I knew my eviction wasn’t far behind. Jumping across the seat, I grabbed ahold of his jacket with both hands. “I did what you wanted. Alex, you can’t keep hanging this over my head. It’s cruel. I haven’t even talked to them, and it’s killing me.”

“They’re safe.”

“Let me talk to them. Just once.”

Glancing down, he pried my grip off his lapels, refusing to speak until I’d slumped back into my own seat. “And then what? Allow Carrera’s men to trace the call and find them? Do you want that on your conscience?”

My heart lodged in my throat. I knew Mateo would never do that. Whether he gave a shit about them or not, he wouldn’t hurt them. Emilio was another story.

“But how are they supposed to understand this?” Hot tears blurred my eyes.

The corners of his mouth turned down in a pensive frown, and hope sprung in my chest. However, he just shook his head and sighed.

I screamed silently, the crushing blow of reality hitting hard. “You won’t stop until another Harcourt is in the ground.”

I wasn’t looking for a response. It didn’t matter because I was getting one regardless.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point. By the way, Cortes dismantled the bug you planted in your brother’s apartment,” he said, smirking. “We’re not stupid, Miss Harcourt.” Nodding toward the bright green clock on the dash, he pointed his finger across the street. “You’d better get back to work. Break’s over.”