Page 16 of South of Justice

She looked up at him again. “You’re not just here for the paycheck.”

Mateo shrugged. He opened his mouth, but before he could respond, there was a shift in tension in the room. Heads turned, voices dropped. Lucía turned in the direction of the stares.

Javier Esquivel was walking the floor.

He moved with the same disturbing grace she remembered from her interview. Like the space rearranged to accommodate him. He wore slate grey today, the jacket tailored within an inch of its life. No tie again. The collar was open, revealing a slash of warm skin.

He wasn’t looking at the trainees. He was looking at her.

Lucía’s spine stiffened.

Javier paused at her desk, scanning the dual monitors. She’d flagged five nodes today.

“Lucía. I see our investment is paying off,” he said.

She nodded once, sharply. “Thank you,señor.”

His gaze slid to Mateo. “And you?”

Mateo straightened slightly. “Still learning,señor.”

Javier’s expression didn’t change, but Lucía saw it, the tiniest delay in his blink. Not displeasure. Calculation.

He nodded, then moved on, the scent of expensive cologne lingering after him.

Mateo didn’t speak for a moment. Then, “He already knows your name.”

Lucía’s eyes stayed on her screen. “He already knows all our names.”

“No. He knows yours.”

She didn’t respond. Her fingers resumed their dance across the keyboard. But in her chest, her heart had picked up its pace. Not from Mateo, and not from fear. From the quiet, coiled certainty that she was being watched.

TWELVE

Ryan droppedhis duffle on the sagging motel mattress, the springs groaning in protest, then locked the door behind him. He twisted the deadbolt, then wedged a chair under the handle.

The place was called El Rincón del Sol, though there wasn’t much sun left in it. Just a rusted sign, a flickering vacancy light and a half-empty parking lot choked with dust.

He checked the window. Threadbare curtains, grime-smeared windows. No sign of surveillance. Not that it mattered, if the cartel wanted to find him, they’d already be watching.

He sat in the cracked vinyl chair and stared at the wall. His brain spun, empty. There was no plan. No trail. Lucía Duarte could be anywhere between Tijuana and Tapachula. She was a ghost, and he wasn’t the kind of man who found ghosts. Not anymore.

He raked his hands through his grimy hair and let out a slow breath. “What the hell am I doing?”

His voice sounded hollow in the tiny room. The version of him that could’ve handled this—the deputy marshal, the hunter, the strategist—was dead and buried back in the States, alongsidethe life he’d torched. Now, he was just a washed-up ex-pat hiding out in a shithole town, pretending he still had something to offer the world.

His eyes landed on the duffle. There was only one option still open to him, one thread he could pull to see if it led anywhere. But it was such a long shot, he was terrified of digging it out and discovering it was nothing more than another dead end.

Don’t be so pathetic.He unzipped the bag and took out his wallet. Inside, tucked in behind the only photo Kylie he hadn’t destroyed, was a folded napkin. He’d kept it buried there for years. It was one of those strange relics you don’t expect to carry, but can’t bring yourself to throw away.

If you ever need digital eyes, I owe you one. —Lázaro.

Below was a scribbled number. Back when he was still with the USMS, working an ugly weapons-trafficking case in Sonora, Lázaro was an informant. A freelancer, who’d dipped a little too deep into the dark web and found himself with a cartel target on his back. Ryan had pulled him out of a raid gone sideways. Smuggled him through the desert in the trunk of a Toyota and dropped him off in the hills above Hermosillo with enough pesos to disappear.

He hadn’t seen Lázaro since. No idea where he’d gone. If he was even still alive. But the guy had skills. Black hat stuff. If anyone could scare up a lead online, it was him.

Ryan stared at the number for a long time before he hit dial. He was using his burner phone, not the one the kidnappers had deposited in his room. Still, reaching out to anyone on any device felt like a huge risk.