Beckett closed his eyes, memories of the past attacking him. Assaulting his senses. Taking over.
Cora connected to the cartel? No. Not a chance in hell.
Beckett adamantly shook his head and freed himself of the past so he could open his eyes and focus. “Cora would never go near the cartel. Not any cartel, for that matter.”
“Why?” Oliver folded his arms and leaned back.
Before Beckett could offer a response, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
It was Emily. He wasn’t prepared to have the conversation about what Elaina had shared with McKenna there in front of everyone, so he’d have to call her back.
He quickly pocketed his phone as their friendly server returned with a tray of bottled waters as well as the Mayan mules in the copper mugs.
“Gracias,” Beckett thanked him, knowing they wouldn’t drink them.
Sydney lazily circled her index finger around the rim of the mug as if her thoughts were whirling. Maybe brainstorming possibilities as to why Ivy had really been at that club.
“So, you were saying?” Oliver prompted, but Beckett wanted to get back to explaining how Jesse ended up separated from him last night.
“Jesse and I went to the club. You, uh, have to dress like you’re in the Roaring Twenties to get in,” he hurried out, “and some rival gang members tried to abduct Ivy before we had a chance to talk to her. Apparently, she’s dating the club owner.” Another oddity. Why would Ivy date anyone in the cartel, even for money, knowing her sister’s past? It didn’t make sense. Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly, given his deep involvement in the whole situation, not to mention his lack of sleep . . . so was Sydney right? If Ivy was at that club, was she trying to find a way to Cora through the cartel? Had Cora really found herself in trouble with the Sinaloas?
“Let me guess, Jesse saved Ivy, and the owner of the club was grateful for Jesse’s help,” Sydney deduced. “Jesse went willingly with these cartel guys because he believed it was the only way he could get to Ivy without trying to abduct her too. And you stayed behind to get word out to Carter?”
Damn, she’s good. “That about sums it up.”
“The club owner is Miguel Diego. Ever heard of him?” Oliver tossed out, his focus landing on Mya as if she might have come across his name before in her line of work.
But Mya’s attention was now fixed on her phone. Her brows drew together in a tight line, and she looked back over her shoulder toward the bar.
“He sounds vaguely familiar,” Sydney responded when Mya didn’t speak up. “I assume we’re waiting for our next steps, right? Hoping Jesse can find a way to leave the compound with Ivy so we can get to them easier?”
Beckett nodded, then looked at Oliver. “Is Falcon planning to help me find Cora too?”
Oliver and Sydney exchanged a quick look, but it was Mya’s flushed face as she turned back to the table that had Beckett worried.
“I should probably mention the fact I’m in Tulum because of the Sinaloa cartel as well,” Mya dropped the unexpected news, and Beckett nearly lost his footing at her quick admission.
“I’m sorry, what?” Oliver rasped, clearly rattled.
“I have a source within the cartel.” She looked back over her shoulder again, and fuck, was her source the twitchy guy in the ball cap at the bar? The one now staring at Mya?
“We’ve worked together before. I trust him.” Mya winced as if that were hard to say. “I know that sounds weird because he’s still with the cartel, but he’s trying to take them down from the inside. He’s against human trafficking, and lately, the cartel has been utilizing their drug trade routes for trafficking people.” She kept her voice low even though they were out of earshot of the other guests.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Oliver asked, his tone laden with disbelief and shock. “Do you have backup here? Mason and the others, are they on the hotel grounds?” When Mya remained quiet, he removed his sunglasses and glared at her.
“Your contact is at the bar by the asshole who bothered Sydney,” Beckett commented. “And he knows what you look like, right?” He pointed to Mya’s phone resting on top of her purse on the table. “And he just texted you?” He peered at Sydney to see her mouth opening a touch as if this was news to her. Or, at least, some part of this was new information.
“I didn’t come to Tulum with backup. And I only told Sydney ten minutes ago that I planned to meet my source here tomorrow for some new intel.” Mya didn’t look back at the bar to confirm Beckett’s theory, but Beckett swore Oliver’s jaw was about to snap from worry. “Yes, that’s him at the bar. He just arrived, and he didn’t expect to see me here today. But now, he thinks we should just go ahead and get it over with.”
“And what was the plan for tomorrow? Or well, what’s the plan now?” Beckett asked, doing his best not to make it obvious when he checked Mya’s source again.
“I was supposed to meet him here tomorrow at four, set my phone on the bar, and he’d stand next to me. Our phones would sync, mine would download the information, and then he’d leave. That’s it. That’s how it’s always worked in the past.”
“How many times have you . . .” Oliver let his question hang in the air, still shocked by the fact Mya pulled similar moves in the past and, from the sounds of it, alone.
She was brave. And Beckett assumed that was another reason Sydney was looking to recruit Mya to Falcon Falls.
“Text him that I’m meeting him at the bar instead.” Oliver abruptly stood. “A sniper can pop off two headshots before I count to three in Spanish. What if he was followed?”
“Are you mad at me?” She scoffed and folded her arms, staring up at Oliver. “I’m always careful. But women are being sold like cattle. Kidnapped from their families. He’s offering me the trade routes the cartel uses to do this, risking his life, and you expected me not to come?”
“I expected someone from your team, several someones, in fact, to have your six,” Oliver bit out, his voice taking on a bit of a growl. “Mason doesn’t deserve you if he’d let you just . . .” Oliver closed his eyes.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Mya stood, her nostrils flaring a bit.
There was more to the story between Oliver and Mya, but it wasn’t Beckett’s business, nor was it the time to figure it out.
“I’m not going to let you risk taking a bullet because of me.” Mya reached across the table and poked Oliver’s chest.
“Oh, so you think that’s a possibility, yet you planned to show up here tomorrow by yourself.” Oliver’s hands balled at his sides.
Sydney joined everyone on their feet just as Beckett spied three new guests from his peripheral vision, and damn it, they were armed. “Get down. Gunmen. ¡Al suelo! ¡Tienen pistolas!” he shouted as loud as possible to be heard over the pulsating music, then motioned for Oliver to move and flipped the table on its side.
Beckett circled his hands around Sydney’s waist and pulled her down for protection as gunshots rang out. Oliver did the same with Mya, and both men drew their weapons. “There are three of them.”
Screams erupted as the music was cut out, and the shooters began yelling orders in Spanish for everyone to be quiet and not move.