Laila shrugged. “I can only guess his reasons. Geraldo’s relationship with Emilo was complicated. Perhaps he had resigned himself to the fact that his son was ineffective and would never be fit to lead the cartel. He was not good at his tasks.” Laila sighed in frustration. “I cannot think of the right word.”
“Emilo was a fuckup.”
“Yes.”
“Would Geraldo want the fuckup’s son?”
“Since Jorge is the only family he has left, likely so.”
Slowly, Trees took that in. “Let’s work off that theory. Both sides are looking for you or Valeria because they want Jorge—the Ramos brothers to use as a pawn and Geraldo because Jorge is the last of his blood, not to mention the heir of his nose-candy empire.”
“Yes, but I still cannot say which side is more likely to have kidnapped Kimber.”
He’d been afraid of that. “Maybe once we see the pictures of the bodies dumped in the EM Security parking lot, we’ll get clarity.”
“Maybe.”
“Until then, let me convince you I’m not the mole who endangered you and your family.”
She gave him a wary glance. “How?”
“I don’t have any proof it wasn’t me, but you know me, Laila.”
“Do I?”
He sighed. “When have I not been a man of my word?”
“I find trust hard.”
“Of course you do.” And he knew why. Arguing about that did no good. Neither did spewing logic. He couldn’t refute her feelings. He simply had to give her reasons to doubt those worries. “Tell me how I can convince you.”
“There is nothing you can do.”
He wouldn’t accept that. “Listen to your gut. What is it telling you?”
“My gut has no facts. You were with Walker when he was taken in Mexico.”
There was only one way she could know that, goddamn it. “You talked to him.”
And Walker had thrown him under the bus. Of course, in Walker’s shoes, Trees would probably think he was guilty as hell, too.
Laila stared stonily. “Yes. Is it true?”
Trees nodded. He had nothing to hide. “We went to Acapulco together on a mission. The afternoon we arrived, we stopped at a restaurant for an early dinner. In the parking lot afterward, we were surrounded by Emilo’s thugs. Walker tossed me the keys and told me to get help. I drove away, only to pass out a mile or two up the road because our food had been drugged. The police found me in their parking lot twelve hours later.”
She sent him a considering stare. “What about Emilo’s break-in at the St. Louis house? Señor Walker sent you the address and the floor plan—”
“No. He sent it to our receptionist, Tessa, to send to me. Since I didn’t give it to Emilo, she must have. There’s no one else it could have been.”
Laila looked skeptical. “Why would she do that?”
“Money, I guess. She’s a single mother whose boyfriend ran out days before her daughter was born. Making ends meet has probably been tough. And before you ask how she would have made the connections necessary—”
“I would not. The cartel will make themselves known to anyone they find useful.”
He hadn’t considered it like that, but… “Exactly.”
Trees was wracking his brain for another argument to convince Laila he’d never sell her out when she crossed her arms over her chest. “I would like to be alone. I need to think.”
To decide if he was guilty? That put him on edge, but he didn’t have any good reason to refuse—other than the thought of losing her scared the ever-loving shit out of him. “All right. The doors and windows are locked. The alarm is set. We should start dinner in an hour.”
“I am not hungry. I will sleep here tonight. Alone.”
“Cuffed? With the overhead light shining in your face?” Would she stay here under conditions she hated simply to avoid him?
Laila hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
Trees lay in his solitary bed, eyes glued to the light filtering across the house from Laila’s bedroom. He was hard as steel, but with her around that wasn’t new. What was? Missing her. The big bed he’d always loved having to himself so his long arms and legs had spreading-out room felt too empty.
One night beside her, and she’d ruined him?
In his head, he replayed the moment he’d cuffed her to her bed for the night—her still wearing his T-shirt with a wary expression. She looked beautiful with her dark hair spilling across the white pillow, and he’d give anything to know if she was any closer to trusting him. But he had to be patient and let her work that out in her head.
Trees sighed and stared at the ceiling. Despite being exhausted, he suspected it would be a long night.
On his nightstand, his phone vibrated. The distraction was almost a relief until he scooped up the device and got a glimpse of the screen. Why the hell would Zy be calling him after midnight?
“Buddy?”
“My fucking life is over.”
“That’s dramatic,” Trees returned tongue-in-cheek, mostly because Zy sounded half-sauced.
“Yep, but that’s how it feels.”
Trees frowned. “Are you drinking?”
“Absofuckinglutely.” Zy sighed. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. Tessa is our mole. Go on. You can say you told me so.”
Trees bolted straight up in bed. “You sure? How did you figure it out?”
“Not two hours ago, I gave her a cover story, disinformation I hadn’t spewed to anyone else. It didn’t take long for the cartel’s communications on Abuzz to light up like fireworks.”
Fuck. That was bad. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Especially since I just got off the phone with Hunter Edgington. He’s pissed that I went rogue and decided to test her on my own. He feels stupid for being wrong, too. He was convinced it was you.”
“No surprise there.”
“You’re off the hook with him, so there’s that. But the other bosses need convincing. I’ve got six hours to give them proof it’s Tessa before they move on it.”
While Zy’s heart was shattering? Damn… “You need help?”
“Yeah.”
In that rough syllable, Trees heard his best friend’s broken hopes for a future with Tessa and wished he could say something to make it better.
“Do you need me to come out there and get you?” He wasn’t sure what he’d do with Laila, but if Zy needed him, he’d figure it out.
“No, I’m not trashed. I just need you to help me figure out how Tessa could have been the mole all along. She was on maternity leave during the first information leaks.”
“You got it. I’ll put on a pot of coffee and be waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” Zy hung up with a sigh that sounded more than tired. It was eat-a-bullet weary.
That worried the hell out of Trees.
With a curse, he rose and tossed on some sweatpants and a tee, then headed across the house to Laila. He half expected to see her curled on her side, tresses tumbling behind her, as they always did in sleep. Instead, she lay on her back, gaze glued to the ceiling.