Although Carter Dominick and Gray Chandler technically co-ran Falcon Falls Security together, Beckett had a feeling Carter was the one ultimately calling the shots. And hell, he’d been the name Jesse had mouthed, so he had to assume Carter would help Beckett put together an extraction plan for Jesse if need be.
“I already called in the guys who were local to our headquarters,” Carter shared the news. “Gray, Jack, and Griffin are with me now.”
Their HQ was up in Pennsylvania, but Griffin and Jesse spent most of their time in Alabama since their wives were there. The fact Griffin was back in Pennsylvania meant he was there for a possible upcoming assignment. Well, hopefully, that operation could wait. They were down a man anyway.
“We’ll need all hands on deck though,” Gray spoke up from somewhere in the room, his voice loud enough to be heard but not close to wherever Carter had Beckett on speakerphone. “Oliver is in Miami. He just wrapped up a quick bodyguard gig for some fitness influencer.”
“Those assignments pay the bills, ya know,” Jack London chimed in as if feeling the need to explain why Oliver had accepted such a job. But from what little Beckett knew, the team wasn’t hard up for cash. Carter seemed to have the finances more than covered. Well, that was what Jesse had alluded to over the last few months during their brief conversations back home between shooting at the range together or playing a game of pool at the local bar, The Drunk Gator.
“Can Oliver hop on a quick flight to me? And don’t you have your own jet?” Beckett asked, still not sure if they would have enough people to storm a heavily armed compound and avoid collateral damage. The last thing Beckett wanted on his conscience was someone’s death due to his own stupidity for going to Mexico in the first place.
“I texted my pilot a minute ago,” Carter answered. “He’s prepping the jet. You and Oliver will both need to fly into Cancun and make your way to Tulum, either on your own or together, depending on when you land. We need Sydney.”
“Wait, slow down there. What am I missing? Why in the Sam Hill would I leave here?” Beckett stole a quick look at the line of cars to ensure Jennifer’s Tesla was gaining ground in getting closer to the border. Good. Only four cars ahead of her. He could check off one problem in a moment.
“Sydney’s in Tulum until Monday morning. A girls’ getaway-slash-recruiting mission,” Gray responded that time. “She specifically said she doesn’t want to be disturbed. Only call she’ll take is from her son.”
“Pretty sure her exact words were, ‘I don’t care if you’re bleeding out on the table, stitch yourself up. Don’t call me.’” It was a coin toss if Jack was joking.
Beckett’s sister had remarked with awe quite a few times that Sydney reminded her of the Marvel character, Black Widow. Not just partly in looks but in her overall ability to cut an enemy down without hesitation.
“So, why in the hell do you want me to go to Tulum? Send Oliver if she really won’t take your calls.” Beckett highly doubted that was the case though.
“Because this is your problem. Your mess to clean up.” Gray’s words were cutting. And true.
Fuck. He’s right. But still, something doesn’t add up. “Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re sending me to Tulum to actually keep me out of danger?” he challenged. “You don’t think I can hang with the big boys in helping extract Jesse? So, you’re going to assign Oliver to keep me out of your way until the job is done?”
“Not at all,” Carter quickly reassured him, but he didn’t continue, so what was that supposed to leave Beckett to think?
“You really could use backup if you’re going to pull Sydney from her getaway. Oliver will have your six.” More humor from Jack. Jesse had mentioned Jack was the team’s resident comedian, always ready to defuse a situation with humor. Surely, he was exaggerating the level of annoyance this unexpected interruption to her vacation would provoke from Sydney.
Backup, huh? Did they really think he couldn’t find his ass with both hands in his pockets? “I’m not sure if you’ve pegged me as some slow-talking country sheriff, but that’s—”
“It’s not that.” And yet, no further explanation from Carter. What was his game plan, and had he already come up with a contingency plan in the event shit went sideways after Jesse called him earlier?
“I’m not leaving here without Jesse. So, you either clue me in on what you’re really thinking, or I end the call and find another way to get Jesse.”
The line went quiet for a moment. They’d most likely muted the call while Carter spoke to the rest of his team there.
I need them, Beckett reminded himself. He couldn’t take on a cartel compound alone, and his brother A.J., a former Navy SEAL, was somewhere overseas at the moment. So, he had to play by Falcon’s rules whether he liked it or not.
“We have an idea, and it does involve you going to Tulum. No guarantee what might happen or how this will all play out, but we need to trust Jesse to control the narrative while he deals with the Sinaloa cartel and go from there,” Carter finally came back on the line and revealed.
“Go on,” Beckett requested. “You’ve got my attention.”
“The Sinaloas will now be indebted to Jesse. That much is obvious,” Carter began. “They may even attempt to recruit him after witnessing his skills in taking out three men. But they’ll also be suspicious of a plant and want to make sure Jesse isn’t undercover for the DEA or a rival gang.”
Beckett spied Jennifer’s Tesla safely crossing the border checkpoint. Now that she was safe, he left the parking lot. “They’ll test Jesse,” he agreed. “Some fucking reward.”
“In their minds, offering Jesse a seat at their table, or even scraps like a dog, is a reward for what Jesse pulled off earlier,” Carter pointed out, and Beckett had to agree based on his work with Narcotics in Los Angeles. “We need eyes on that compound for their next move, but Jesse is smart. He knows how to handle this. He’ll find a way to get to a new location, one we have better access to. And make Miguel or whoever is running the show over there think it’s their idea.”
“Jesse was onto you before the plane even left Alabama. He knew this weekend was never intended to be you two bonding and braiding each other’s hair,” Jack jested. “He used one of his aliases when y’all crossed into Mexico earlier.”
Beckett hadn’t exactly flipped open Jesse’s passport to peek at the details before he’d handed it to the border agent. But it’d make sense Jesse wouldn’t want to enter a foreign country using his real name, given his past with the CIA. I should’ve told him everything from the start. This is my fault.
“Also,” Jack went on, “knowing Jesse, he’ll find a way to lead Miguel to Tulum since he knows Sydney is already there. If he can’t swing that, they’ll most likely travel somewhere in Mexico. Regardless, he’ll get out of there one way or another. He knows we can’t storm a heavily fortified cartel compound on short notice without a few of us dying, or at least, making international headlines.”
Not an option. Either outcome. And Jack was right. Now that Beckett knew the real Jesse, not the version Jesse had let everyone believe him to be all those years, the man was more than capable of dealing with the cartel.