Liz gripped Zeke’s tee in her hands and shuddered. “Carreon’s probably already sent some of his men to the stronghold so someone will be there when I—”
“You’re not going back.”
“We don’t have much time left.”
Zeke tightened his embrace, not wanting to hear the defeat in her words. He had to protect her. They had to have a future no matter what Carreon or Isabel wanted. He was this clan’s fucking leader. There had to be a way to fix this.
How? With what?
Think, dammit.
Liz moved against him as though she ached to stay, but couldn’t.
“I won’t let you go,” Zeke whispered to her. “I’ll find a way to make this right. I’ll…” He didn’t continue, not knowing what else to say.
Jacob watched them for a moment, then went around the table to the computer Kele had been using. “Maybe the answer’s right in front of us and we didn’t see it.”
Zeke shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s look at what we have and go through it again. It couldn’t hurt.” He brought up the screen and frowned.
“What is it?” Zeke asked.
Jacob sank into the chair. His fingers flew over the keyboard, then stopped. He shook his head. “This isn’t right.”
Zeke stopped hugging Liz. With his arms still around her, he turned to Jacob. “What isn’t?”
“The most recent downloads were deleted. Why would she do that?”
Who? Isabel? “What are you talking about?”
“Kele. She erased the history, or thought she had.” Jacob stared at the screen as he continued, “Nothing’s ever really gone from a computer. I’m bringing it back up.”
“Why would she delete anything as important as this?” Liz asked.
Zeke hadn’t a clue. What purpose would it serve? It wasn’t as if she was going to try to win Jacob over again. That was over. Zeke had seen it in Kele’s expression, the depth of sorrow and shame in her eyes. She hadn’t been acting. He knew she—
His thoughts paused as remnants of his earlier vision returned. Again, he saw a woman’s legs. A fire. An unpleasant taste filled his mouth. His voice didn’t sound like his own. “Does Kele have a scar on her ankle?”
Jacob studied the screen. “Maybe.”
“Does she?” Zeke snapped.
His brother and Liz stared at him. “I don’t know,” Jacob said.
“How can you not know that?” Zeke growled. “You’ve been around her since she was a kid.”
Jacob stared at him, then glanced back at the computer screen. Liz rested her hand on Zeke’s chest. “What is it?” she asked him. “What have you seen?”
“Oh shit,” Jacob said.
Zeke released Liz and went around the table to his brother. “What?”
Jacob’s complexion had turned pasty. “She found the office where the transmission took place.”
“How?” Liz blurted.
“She used the calendar on the wall.”
Zeke’s belly clenched. The images in his vision all made sense now. “She’s heading there.”
“Why?” Liz cried.
“Because she brought Carreon’s men here,” Zeke said, feeling ill. “She put the stronghold and our people at risk.” He could barely breathe. “She wants to make up for it.”
Jacob stood. “We have to stop her.”
How? Too much time had passed for them to catch up. Exactly what Kele had wanted.
“You take the next exit,” Diaz said. He gestured to the highway sign illuminated by the Jeep’s headlights. Using the faint glow coming from the dash, he checked the map. “Then we go two miles to the intersection of Carmelita and Rio Rosa. There, we turn—hey, what are you doing?” He looked behind himself. “You missed the exit.”
“I remembered a better way,” Kele lied. She wiped her left palm on her jeans, then her right. The last time her hands had been this sweaty was the night she’d gone to Carreon’s stronghold in the hopes of making Jacob her own.
Fool.
How could she have believed he’d love her after what she’d done? How could she have been so stupid?
“What better way?” Diaz finally said. “My aunt’s house isn’t far from that last exit. We’ll have to double back now.”
“It’s okay.”
He remained turned to her, watching, no doubt frowning. Kele ignored him.
“What’s this about?” he asked, his question laced with suspicion.
“I have to make a stop first.”
“Where?”
She took the next off ramp. At this hour, the streets were deserted. Carreon’s man would soon be exiting the back of the strip club to throw out the trash and have a smoke.
Please, let him do that tonight.
“We’ll get Pedro as soon as I’m through,” Kele promised.
Diaz snapped, “Doing what?”
She slowed half a block down from the club and parked the Jeep in front of a home that had seen better days. Tall weeds and grass had taken over the front yard. Paint peeled from the wooden siding. A child’s bike, its back wheel missing, lay on the sagging steps that led to the porch. The houses surrounding it were as decrepit. This street, like the others, was also empty. No one nearby.
“Kele, stop.”
She couldn’t. Once and for all, she had to make things right. Jacob still wouldn’t love her. However, maybe—just maybe—he’d like her a little more. He’d respect the woman she’d finally become. They’d be friends again, just as he always wanted. She blinked away her tears, angry at her lingering hurt. She had no right to it.
With her weapon’s stock folded, she hid it at her side beneath the lightweight blanket coat she wore. Once the sun had set, the blistering summer air had cooled to the mid-sixties. Downright chilly for this part of the world.
“Stay here,” she said to Diaz and left the keys in the ignition. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Fuck that,” he said, “I’m coming with—”
She interrupted him, her tone unnaturally calm, “If you get killed, what will happen to Pedro?” Before Diaz could answer, she murmured, “Stay here.”
She closed the door as gently as she could to avoid making any unnecessary noise, then ran down the street and stopped short of the club’s back entrance. Noting the security cameras, Kele remained in the equipment’s blind spots and inched closer, then closer through the shadows.
Carreon’s Escalade was still here. Good. The dark blue Lincoln must have belonged to the other man.
Come out, come out, come out, her thoughts urged him as she crouched down in her vantage point.
She counted the passing seconds. A strange calm settled over her. On the drive here, she’d worried about panic, that she might be so afraid she’d rethink this. Now that the time had come, all the suspense and anguish had been foolish. She’d never felt as peaceful, because she knew she’d done the right thing by—
The back door swung open, halting her thoughts. The man she’d seen on the computer monitor wasn’t holding the expected trash bag. However, he did have a pack of cigarettes in his hand. After propping the door open with a brick, he lit the smoke and pulled deeply on it.
Kele’s heart, so calm a moment before, began to hammer. Discounting it, she pulled her weapon from her coat and lowered the stock, locking it in place.
At the faint click, the man stopped blowing out his smoke. He turned and glanced up the street, then down, his back now to her.
She bolted from her hiding place, her steps muffled by her moccasins. She rested the muzzle of her assault rifle in the center of his back.
“Make one sound or move and you’re dead,” she murmured, then took the weapon from his waistband and slipped it into her own. She found another holstered on his ankle. She threw it into the bushes that separated this property from the next and nudged him with her rifle. “Inside.”