The Guarded One by Brittney Sahin

It’d taken Beckett a handful of seconds to learn Miguel Diego, the club owner, lived in a military-style compound in Murder-Fucking-Valley just outside Juárez. And he had to assume that was where he was taking Jesse.

Beckett’s first instinct had been to tail the Cadillac, but he’d made a promise to deliver Jennifer to the border safely. Surprisingly, the bouncer had given him a you didn’t hear it from me idea as to the whereabouts of Miguel Diego’s compound. A good thing because Jesse’s location on the tracking app they were using, on the off chance they got split up, had vanished moments after he and Ivy were whisked away. Jesse’s phone was going to voicemail as well, which meant Miguel either demanded Jesse turn it off or it’d been destroyed.

After learning the club manager’s name, Beckett had gone back in the club and quickly snatched Jennifer’s wrist, demanding they leave right away.

Thankfully, she hadn’t protested but instead scampered to keep up with his long strides. When they had burst through the door and stumbled on the three bodies being hauled away, leaving a trail of blood in their wake, the horrified look on her face caused Beckett to shelve the stern lecture he’d planned on delivering before tucking her into her car. He was pretty sure she’d be having nightmares after this, but at least she wouldn’t come back.

Beckett huffed out a frustrated breath and grabbed his phone from the console of the rental as he waited in the parking lot near the border crossing and watched Jennifer’s Tesla inch forward in the line of cars progressing toward Texas.

He’d followed her there and decided to wait until she’d safely crossed into the States before he took off. The way his luck was going tonight, he didn’t want to take any chances. He’d also given her his number and asked her to text him when she made it back to her dorm.

“How in the hell did I let tonight happen?” he hissed while scrolling through his contacts, grateful he had Carter’s number saved.

Beckett’s only hope for Jesse right now was that he’d saved Miguel’s girlfriend from three enemy cartel members. Miguel now owed Jesse, right? But in Beckett’s experience from dealing with the cartel in Los Angeles, that didn’t guarantee Jesse a get-out-of-death card.

“What happened?” Carter answered after the second ring.

“Jesse gave you a heads-up, didn’t he?” Apparently, Jesse hadn’t only called Ella on his perimeter sweep. Smart man.

“Yeah. And since you’re calling me, it’s safe to say something went wrong,” Carter answered in a low voice.

That’s an understatement. “Jesse and I got separated.” He paused to let that sink in. “I don’t know how much he told you, but I’m down here searching for a woman. I know her as Ivy Barlowe. Not sure her current alias.” Beckett waited for a second, then went on to explain how the rest of their “hunting trip” had played out.

Although Carter Dominick and Gray Chandler technically co-ran Falcon Falls Security together, Beckett had a feeling Carter was the one ultimately calling the shots. And hell, he’d been the name Jesse had mouthed, so he had to assume Carter would help Beckett put together an extraction plan for Jesse if need be.

“I already called in the guys who were local to our headquarters,” Carter shared the news. “Gray, Jack, and Griffin are with me now.”

Their HQ was up in Pennsylvania, but Griffin and Jesse spent most of their time in Alabama since their wives were there. The fact Griffin was back in Pennsylvania meant he was there for a possible upcoming assignment. Well, hopefully, that operation could wait. They were down a man anyway.

“We’ll need all hands on deck though,” Gray spoke up from somewhere in the room, his voice loud enough to be heard but not close to wherever Carter had Beckett on speakerphone. “Oliver is in Miami. He just wrapped up a quick bodyguard gig for some fitness influencer.”

“Those assignments pay the bills, ya know,” Jack London chimed in as if feeling the need to explain why Oliver had accepted such a job. But from what little Beckett knew, the team wasn’t hard up for cash. Carter seemed to have the finances more than covered. Well, that was what Jesse had alluded to over the last few months during their brief conversations back home between shooting at the range together or playing a game of pool at the local bar, The Drunk Gator.

“Can Oliver hop on a quick flight to me? And don’t you have your own jet?” Beckett asked, still not sure if they would have enough people to storm a heavily armed compound and avoid collateral damage. The last thing Beckett wanted on his conscience was someone’s death due to his own stupidity for going to Mexico in the first place.

“I texted my pilot a minute ago,” Carter answered. “He’s prepping the jet. You and Oliver will both need to fly into Cancun and make your way to Tulum, either on your own or together, depending on when you land. We need Sydney.”

“Wait, slow down there. What am I missing? Why in the Sam Hill would I leave here?” Beckett stole a quick look at the line of cars to ensure Jennifer’s Tesla was gaining ground in getting closer to the border. Good. Only four cars ahead of her. He could check off one problem in a moment.

“Sydney’s in Tulum until Monday morning. A girls’ getaway-slash-recruiting mission,” Gray responded that time. “She specifically said she doesn’t want to be disturbed. Only call she’ll take is from her son.”

“Pretty sure her exact words were, ‘I don’t care if you’re bleeding out on the table, stitch yourself up. Don’t call me.’” It was a coin toss if Jack was joking.

Beckett’s sister had remarked with awe quite a few times that Sydney reminded her of the Marvel character, Black Widow. Not just partly in looks but in her overall ability to cut an enemy down without hesitation.

“So, why in the hell do you want me to go to Tulum? Send Oliver if she really won’t take your calls.” Beckett highly doubted that was the case though.

“Because this is your problem. Your mess to clean up.” Gray’s words were cutting. And true.

Fuck. He’s right. But still, something doesn’t add up. “Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re sending me to Tulum to actually keep me out of danger?” he challenged. “You don’t think I can hang with the big boys in helping extract Jesse? So, you’re going to assign Oliver to keep me out of your way until the job is done?”

“Not at all,” Carter quickly reassured him, but he didn’t continue, so what was that supposed to leave Beckett to think?

“You really could use backup if you’re going to pull Sydney from her getaway. Oliver will have your six.” More humor from Jack. Jesse had mentioned Jack was the team’s resident comedian, always ready to defuse a situation with humor. Surely, he was exaggerating the level of annoyance this unexpected interruption to her vacation would provoke from Sydney.

Backup, huh? Did they really think he couldn’t find his ass with both hands in his pockets? “I’m not sure if you’ve pegged me as some slow-talking country sheriff, but that’s—”

“It’s not that.” And yet, no further explanation from Carter. What was his game plan, and had he already come up with a contingency plan in the event shit went sideways after Jesse called him earlier?

“I’m not leaving here without Jesse. So, you either clue me in on what you’re really thinking, or I end the call and find another way to get Jesse.”

The line went quiet for a moment. They’d most likely muted the call while Carter spoke to the rest of his team there.

I need them, Beckett reminded himself. He couldn’t take on a cartel compound alone, and his brother A.J., a former Navy SEAL, was somewhere overseas at the moment. So, he had to play by Falcon’s rules whether he liked it or not.

“We have an idea, and it does involve you going to Tulum. No guarantee what might happen or how this will all play out, but we need to trust Jesse to control the narrative while he deals with the Sinaloa cartel and go from there,” Carter finally came back on the line and revealed.

“Go on,” Beckett requested. “You’ve got my attention.”

“The Sinaloas will now be indebted to Jesse. That much is obvious,” Carter began. “They may even attempt to recruit him after witnessing his skills in taking out three men. But they’ll also be suspicious of a plant and want to make sure Jesse isn’t undercover for the DEA or a rival gang.”

Beckett spied Jennifer’s Tesla safely crossing the border checkpoint. Now that she was safe, he left the parking lot. “They’ll test Jesse,” he agreed. “Some fucking reward.”

“In their minds, offering Jesse a seat at their table, or even scraps like a dog, is a reward for what Jesse pulled off earlier,” Carter pointed out, and Beckett had to agree based on his work with Narcotics in Los Angeles. “We need eyes on that compound for their next move, but Jesse is smart. He knows how to handle this. He’ll find a way to get to a new location, one we have better access to. And make Miguel or whoever is running the show over there think it’s their idea.”

“Jesse was onto you before the plane even left Alabama. He knew this weekend was never intended to be you two bonding and braiding each other’s hair,” Jack jested. “He used one of his aliases when y’all crossed into Mexico earlier.”

Beckett hadn’t exactly flipped open Jesse’s passport to peek at the details before he’d handed it to the border agent. But it’d make sense Jesse wouldn’t want to enter a foreign country using his real name, given his past with the CIA. I should’ve told him everything from the start. This is my fault.

“Also,” Jack went on, “knowing Jesse, he’ll find a way to lead Miguel to Tulum since he knows Sydney is already there. If he can’t swing that, they’ll most likely travel somewhere in Mexico. Regardless, he’ll get out of there one way or another. He knows we can’t storm a heavily fortified cartel compound on short notice without a few of us dying, or at least, making international headlines.”

Not an option. Either outcome. And Jack was right. Now that Beckett knew the real Jesse, not the version Jesse had let everyone believe him to be all those years, the man was more than capable of dealing with the cartel.

“He won’t walk out the front door even if they offer that option, not without Ivy. Not knowing who she is. So, Jesse will make sure the plan involves her leaving too,” Beckett rationalized. “You think he can get word out to us even if they take his phone?”

“We have protocols in place if any of us ever get separated or stuck in a dead zone–type area for cell service. Just leave the communication issue to us,” Carter informed him, and Beckett did his best to allow that news to lower his blood pressure.

“Regardless of what happens next, I want you in Tulum,” Gray instructed. “We’ll need to bring Sydney into the mix before she hops on a flight back to D.C. on Monday anyway.”

“I have a friend in El Paso with a plane and access to weapons.” Of course Carter did. Money talks. “He’ll be your ride to Cancun. Get to Tulum, make contact with Oliver, and wait for the next steps.”

“Sydney’s not going to love us crashing her weekend getaway and turning it into an operation.” Jack really wanted to drill that point home, didn’t he? But to Beckett, pissing off Sydney was the least of his worries.

Of course, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t thrilled about facing the only woman who’d inspired any type of fantasies for as long as he could remember.

“I’ll secure a hotel room for you at Sydney’s resort,” Carter said a moment later, then added, “And I’d hold off on calling your sister until we know more. She’s pregnant, and telling her Jesse is with—”

“She’ll be expecting a goodnight text from her husband, and if she doesn’t get one, I wouldn’t put it past that woman to come looking for Jesse herself,” Beckett grumbled.

“Then text her. Tell her Jesse passed out by the campfire,” Jack quickly responded. “This hunting trip was your idea. I’m assuming you didn’t tell Ella you were hunting for a woman in a club run by the cartel, right?”

“Copy that,” is all Beckett offered for an answer, pissed at himself for this whole mess.

He ended the call once they’d finalized a few more details, then slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

Damn that cutoff voicemail three weeks ago.

Damn her plea for help.

Damn McKenna’s mom.