He’s not a mercenary. Not a contractor. He’s something else entirely. He operates in spaces where governments can’t orwon’t go. He calls himself a private intelligence and recovery specialist.
Hendricks doesn’t join teams unless he has to, so I’m glad he agreed to come help out. I also wonder what this is going to cost us. He asked us to aid him on a tactical contract he had a couple weeks ago, and we did because it paid ridiculously well, but owing someone is something completely different—especially when you owe someone like Hendricks.
I gesture to the front door. “Long drive?”
Falling into step beside me, he grunts. “Long life.”
We enter the house. I watch his gaze go up the stairs—he probably senses Emma and Jenna up there. I ignore it and head for the kitchen, knowing he’ll follow.
Jake and Mason are prepared when I walk in. We’ve been together for a long fucking time, so I know when they have their game faces on. I wink at them and go over to pull out another coffee mug.
“Gentlemen,” Hendricks says as he silently enters the room.
They do all the pleasantries as I get Hendricks coffee and set it on the table where I want him to sit. He gives a look because of course he knows what I’m doing, but he sits down anyway, settling in like he owns the place.
Ignoring the drink, his gaze sweeps over each of us—assessing, calculating. “I appreciate you bringing me in on this.”
I snort. That’s governmentese foryou’re going to owe me big.
Jake sits across from him. “We appreciate you coming.”
Hendricks dives in, no nonsense and straightforward like he’s always been. “I’ve arranged for one of my contacts to take care of your witness. Jenna Morales will be secure, off the grid, no trail. She’ll be moved within the hour.”
“Where?” I lean against the counter, crossing my arms in front of me.
He meets my gaze calmly. “You don’t need to know that. The less you know, the safer she is. Trust me, she’ll be protected as long as she follows the guidelines she’s given.”
“The van was rigged to blow,” I say.
“Counterintuitive,” Hendricks says mildly. “If she was product.”
“If she was product.” Jake looks at him steadily. “Jenna said someone said she was ‘the wrong one.’”
“So Turner was looking for a woman in particular.” Hendricks rubs his chin contemplatively.
I nod. “In Texas.”
“I’ll check it out.” He leans back in his chair, his expression shifting. “Which leads us to the real situation here.”
“Cole Turner,” Jake all but spits out.
“I’m surprised this hothead”—Hendricks jabs his thumb in my direction—“hasn’t flown off the handle and eliminated him yet.”
“I had that planned for this afternoon,” I drawl.
Hendricks sits forward, focused on Jake, cold and clinical. “You can’t just kill Cole Turner and walk away clean. Turner has connections. Mafia. Cartel. Multi-state trafficking networks that won’t disappear if he does. You kill Turner, someone else steps in. The infrastructure stays intact. The buyers keep buying, and the victims keep disappearing.”
Jake doesn’t bat a lash. “We need to take down the whole operation.”
“You need to take down the entire operation.” Hendricks taps the table with one finger. “The network, the buyers, the money, the political protection, everything.”
I sigh. “Well, shit. That’s more complicated than a bullet to the head.”
“Not that complicated,” Jake says, calm and dangerous.
“Not that complicated,” Hendricks agrees with a nod. “We just need to make sure we do it right.”
Jake raises a brow. “We?”