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Instead of a direct answer, Hawke said, “Olivia and I were already off the grid. With the exception of Layla, the others weren’t in hiding.”
“But no one ever came after either of you?” Eve clarified.
At that question, Hawke’s gaze zoomed to Olivia in a searing, searching look. Based on the scars she’d seen on his neck and the slight limp in his gait, she knew something had happened to him. But why was he looking at her like that? She was the injured party here. He was the one who’d disappeared. He was the one who’d left her alone, allowing her to think he was dead. If anyone had a right to be pissed, it was her.
“No,” he finally said. “No one came after either of us back then.”
“All right,” Eve said softly. “We know you were being targeted, but how about telling us why we couldn’t be told?”
“Because I knew what you would do,” Hawke said. “You’d have jumped in with both feet and in the process, maybe have gotten yourselves killed.”
“I’m not sure if we are supposed to be touched that you cared about us that much or just really honked off at you for thinking we couldn’t handle ourselves,” Eve said.
“It was my mess to clean up,” Hawke said.
“No, it was our mess,” Olivia snapped. “And was it even worth it? Do you know anything more than you did two years ago, or was all of this shit for nothing?”
The room went silent, and Olivia inwardly cringed. Not only had she drawn everyone’s attention, but the anger in her voice had been evident. Having others see her pain went against her training. If people didn’t know what you were feeling, then they didn’t know what you were thinking. That was Spy Craft 101.
All the adrenaline that had been keeping her going since she’d woken this morning seemed to leave her at once. Being beaten and drugged and then finding out her husband was not dead had been a bit much to handle in such a short period of time. If she didn’t get some alone time soon so she could regroup, she would be no good to anyone.
She blinked to keep her mind on what Hawke was saying.
“Everything points to the Gonzalez cartel.”
The information diverted her exhaustion. That name was easy enough to remember. She had almost died on that mission. She had been protecting Tomás Ramirez, the seven-year-old son of Pedro Ramirez. Their team had made a deal with Ramirez, who had been looking to get completely away from his family’s legacy of crime. He’d given them a way into Hector Gonzalez’s drug trafficking empire. It had gone off like clockwork, or so they’d thought. Then someone had sold them out and leaked the location of where she was holed up with Tomás. An army had descended on the private island. Eighteen of Ramirez’s people had been killed. Tomás had survived, but only because Olivia had thrown her body over his. She had taken three bullets that day.
Despite the attack, Hector Gonzalez had gone to trial and died in prison a few months after being found guilty.
“We checked that lead thoroughly,” Olivia said. “After Hector was incarcerated, the cartel fell apart. There was nothing left.”
“They had help we didn’t know about.”
“From whom?”
He shifted in his chair as if he, too, was feeling the strain from the last few hours. She thought again about his limp. What had happened to him? Was he in pain? And why the hell did she care?
“I’ve got intel coming here soon,” Hawke said. “We need to wait for that.”
“They can’t send it electronically?” Jazz asked.
“No. We do this old-school.”
“Seems like that would really slow one down.”
Hawke shrugged. “Safer this way.”
“Then we’ll wait,” Ash said.
There were no protests, so it seemed that everyone was content to wait until they had the intel in hand. Olivia wasn’t going to argue about it either. She wanted out of here, needing fresh air in the worst way. There was no purer air than in the mountains of Montana. She jumped from her chair and made it three steps before the one person she knew would be the first to speak to her grabbed her arm.
“I’m so sorry, Liv.”
She turned to Jazz and felt a tug at her heart. The young woman had tears in her eyes and an expression of extreme distress on her face.
“It’s not your fault, Jazz. You believed what we wanted you to believe.”
“Maybe so, but I could have been more supportive. I should have known you wouldn’t have deliberately hurt Hawke.”
