“With a woman?”
“No.”
In fact, after taking Madison to dinner nearly six weeks ago, they’d become friends. They hung out, and she’d introduced him to a whole circle of locals. They’d even invited him to a concert in the park last weekend. But they weren’t hooking up. And as far as Zy could tell, Trees was okay with that.
“Does he owe anyone anything?”
No, but Zy didn’t like Joaquin’s tone or direction. “What do you really want to know? Because it sounds like you’re accusing him of something.”
Joaquin hesitated, jaw clenched. “We might have a mole.”
“An internal mole?”
“I don’t mean a rodent.”
“And you suspect Trees?”
“We haven’t decided anything,” Joaquin hedged. “But we need to figure out what’s going on. All we know is the score: Emilo Montilla two, our team zero. Both times our ops went south, they knew exactly where and when we’d be. That’s not a coincidence.”
It probably wasn’t, but… “You’re zeroing in on Trees because he made it out of Mexico this week and One-Mile didn’t.”
“It’s one reason, and you’ve got to admit it’s logical.”
“Maybe, but Trees had nothing to do with it. He would never sell us out.”
“You’re probably right. And he’s not the only possibility we’re considering. Hell, possible our communications were hacked. But he’s the one you can answer questions about.”
There was a whole lot Joaquin wasn’t telling him, and it chafed Zy. “I could answer a thousand questions, and Trees still wouldn’t be guilty. Why aren’t you focusing on where to find One-Mile so we can rescue him?”
“We are. Hunter, Logan, and I have had eight hours of sleep between us in the last two days. Since we don’t have any other leads, we finally decided to retrace our steps and see if that could give us any clue where to find him.”
“I want to help.”
Joaquin sighed tiredly. “That mission to Mexico back in March?”
His first one with this team? The one they’d had to abort? “What about it?”
“It’s taken us awhile to break that down because we’ve had our hands full.”
They had. Getting the business transferred to their names and getting the word out to key clients that the team was under new management. They’d had to undergo some construction in the office. Meanwhile, Hunter’s wife had given birth to a son in May. Logan had been transitioning from frogman to boss. And the taciturn brother in front of him had been planning a wedding. Missions had been coming in, and everything had been just shy of insane.
“For sure.”
“We’re finally fine-tooth-combing that gig to figure out what went wrong. We’ve been trying to include Caleb in the discussion but”—he shook his head like he was disgusted—“my mother has kept him busy with a tour of east Texas bed-and-breakfasts and wine-country antique stores for weeks. While planning their big upcoming cruise. He’s thrilled, by the way.”
Beyond the fact the colonel was the last person Zy could picture hanging out happily on a big-ass boat while grazing at the buffet, Joaquin had actually told a joke. “I’m sure. It sounds horrible.”
“It does. I’m grateful Bailey chose something way less mind-numbing for our honeymoon. Anyway, now that we’re deep-diving into that trip, Hunter, Logan, and I have come to the inescapable conclusion that somehow our information fell into Montilla’s hands.”
At the time, Zy’s gut had told him there was something fishy happening, but everything had gone down way too fast for him to discern what. And he’d traveled straight from Mexico to the hospital to Tessa’s place…and ended up leaving with his gut tied in knots. “I don’t know of any reason for Trees to have betrayed One-Mile or the rest of the team.”
Suddenly, Joaquin pasted on his version of an affable smile. “It was a long shot, but I figured it was worth the ask. You going to pick up Trees at the airport?”
Zy didn’t believe the quick change of subject, but he played along. “Yeah. He should land in about an hour.”
“Glad he made it home in one piece. Why don’t you get out of here? Unless we get some word on One-Mile’s location, I’ll see you Monday.”
Joaquin and the bosses wanted to talk about him behind his back? Decide whether he was being honest? Fine by him. Maybe a couple of days away from this shit, hanging out with Trees and downing some beer, would improve his mood.
Back at his desk, he grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and pocketed his phone, then headed toward the front of the office and the door that would let him escape this asylum.
He stopped short when he saw Cash Bennett—spiked hair, classic aviators, loud graphic T-shirt, and baggy-ass jeans—leaning on Tess’s desk as if he had every right to be there. His protective instincts flared. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The asshole just smiled. “Waiting for my girlfriend. She’s in the restroom, but once she comes out, we’ll be leaving to pick up our daughter and spend a quiet evening together.”