Page 3 of Colton’s Secret Identity

“Who said ‘share’?” Dylan added an extra touch of menace to his tone. “I’m making the deal with your buddy Hank, not Rex.” He referred to one of cartel’s main distributors, the trafficker he hoped would get him access to the kingpin, Slim. His stooges had no clue that the task force had already filled him in on the pertinent details regarding Rex and Slim. He’d informed the sheriff, who happened to be his brother Callum Colton, as well as the head of the task force, that the Bureau’s and therefore his goal was to get to Slim and crush his ring to smithereens. But he hadn’t met with the task force in person, and didn’t see a need to keep Callum updated on his every move. He’d been surprised at how quickly the stooges had orchestrated this meeting, in all truth.

Dylan slapped his hand on his thigh.

“Listen up. I need you three to keep your gobs shut when they get here. If they even show. I do the talking. No one else. Clear?”

“Yeah, let Hawk talk,” Scar mumbled.

“Shut up!” Slash scowled at Scar. Slash was the one Dylan trusted the most to have his back in a gun fight, as he had more than once over the last six months. Not that Dylan trusted anyone in this group. They were such a poor excuse for a drug dealing ring.

“Enough.” As Hawk, Dylan employed monosyllables whenever he could. This crowd didn’t have the attention span for soliloquies.

“Sorry, boss.” Scar looked at his phone. “Hank says they’re five minutes out.”

Excitement tickled Dylan’s gut but he fought against it, refused to break cover. This was the highest stakes assignment he’d ever had as an FBI special agent and it was considered a sure ticket to promotion. If he pulled it off.

His assignment was simple on paper: Bring down the drug ring that had taken over the Upper Midwest US and Southern Canada by posing as a rival kingpin. The Bureau had paved the way for Dylan to show up as Hawk when a minor drug kingpin and his key lieutenants had been apprehended or killed during a takedown nine months ago. With no clear leader, the underlings who’d evaded capture had scrambled for survival. Dylan, aka Hawk, arrived on the scene several months later, posing as a major player from southern Utah, where the agency had several undercover agents in place who corroborated Hawk’s story.

“If he’s not here in three minutes, we’re out. No deal,” Dylan said.

“But, boss—” Scar stopped when he saw Dylan’s expression, and instead refocused on his phone. Scar was as much a loser as any of the people in what was Dylan’s drug ring, but he proved to be a pot-stirrer over and over. Slash had already overseen the elimination of the most troublesome lackeys. Lucky for Dylan, Slash had also believed Hawk Masters’s fabricated Utah reputation.

“What if we see cruisers?” Brick shifted from one foot to the other. With the discovery of yet another female victim on the Enchanted Highway threatening the state’s tourism industry, red flags were up. The rumor mill buzzed with concern over the influx of LE—law enforcement—of all levels. LE interest had rapidly grown from local police and sheriff departments to the state troopers and now, unbeknownst to these stooges, federal agents.

“If cruisers show up, Slash and I split. You and Scar stay and take them out.” As Hawk he bit out the command, but his stomach roiled at his words. LE was his sacred family of choice, and justice was his life’s work. But lately something had changed for him, ever since he’d returned to his native state. It had stirred up the familiar guilt at having basically ditched his family save for the rare holiday he’d come back for, and only for a day or two at that.

There was nothing holding him here except his family, and the infrequent visits to see Mom and Dad—long divorced—and his siblings suited him just fine. Dylan wasn’t like the rest of his family. He relished his independent life far away from where he’d been raised. Except things had changed for his siblings.

Callum’s married now.

He’d only met Callum’s wife recently, told himself it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t watch them grow into their newfound partnership. Was he willing to miss out on future nieces and nephews, too? And his twin brother, Aiden. He missed him a helluva lot.

You could ask for a transfer.

He ignored his conscience. So what if Callum had fallen for Jules, and Aiden had partnered with Lucy, and Matilda had found herself a doctor like their father, Jonathon, and was committed to Ryan? So what if all of his other siblings managed to find the loves of their lives, too, leaving him the confirmed bachelor uncle? He’d show up for the weddings, as they happened. And the inevitable christenings, because the Coltons liked to have big families. Being one of six was proof.

“Here they come!” Scar’s exclamation jolted him from his thoughts. The punk pointed at the horizon to where a dust cloud rose up over the crest of the last hill, right before the road turned parallel to the line of abandoned warehouses.

“Boss, you need to stay back and let one of us go out and confirm their identity.” Slash gripped his rifle.

“You’re point man.” Scar glared at Slash.

“I’ll stay here and protect the boss.” Brick puffed out his chest. They all fell into formation as they walked toward the approaching vehicle.

A dark SUV approached and he quickly identified it as an older-model Cadillac Escalade. A much older and worn-out model, he realized, as it drew closer and several dents appeared in the midday light. Holy crap, were those recent bullet holes on the driver’s door? They sure looked recent as the metal surrounding the pockmarks was still shiny, allowing the sun to glint off it. He hadn’t received any intel from his support team on a recent dealer shootout. The hairs on his nape prickled. Who the hell was this Hank and, more importantly, who was the person with him?

He made a quick assessment of the scene, assuming the worst. That whoever was in the vehicle would step out, guns blazing.

He spied the passenger first. He was either short or he was slouched down low in his seat. A cowboy hat covered most of his face. The glare off the windshield shifted and allowed Dylan to see the driver. Female, large sunglasses. A brunette, but with the sun beating down, her short hair appeared almost purple-blue. A bass beat pumped from the car, but it was too far away to make out the actual tune. She liked to drive with her sunroof open, it appeared.

Not a relevant detail. Unless she decided to use the roof to steady her aim.

The driver had both hands on the wheel, so no weapons in sight for her. She didn’t look like any kind of drug dealer he’d ever met. There were female traffickers, many who proved just as deadly as, if not deadlier than, their male counterparts, so that was not what mattered to Dylan. It was the fact that she was a complete unknown to him. She wasn’t embedded LE or he’d have been forewarned, unless she was a last-minute fill. Even then, Callum would have given him a heads-up. Or someone from his support team would have. His team was meticulous and worked with every layer of law enforcement throughout Western North America, including North Dakota. They knew every cop, sheriff’s deputy, state trooper working undercover.

Do they, though?

Doubt assailed him. Maybe he should have called Callum about this meeting. He couldn’t risk a text now, not as Hawk.

For the first time since arriving in North Dakota, Dylan’s stomach sank. He wasn’t prone to praying, but right now was a good time to consider it as an option. Because if this wasn’t an undercover agent his team had missed, it only meant one other thing.