Blake Walker ignored the warning spoken into his cell phone headset by fellow Walker Security pal Kyle Suther, and stepped onto said San Francisco elevator. He punched the button for floor twenty-five. “Too late,” he replied, watching the doors close. “I’m already inside.” And headed straight to a 4:30 meeting with Milo Mendez, the CEO of Newport Industries; a massive holding company that looked legit but laundered money for the Alvarez Cartel.

“Damn it,” Kyle cursed, “I know how badly you want Alvarez, but this meeting is trouble. Get off now.”

“Why?”

“Get off and then we’ll talk.”

“Translation,” Blake drawled cautiously, certain he was being monitored. “You don’t think I’ll approve of your explanation.”

“Because you never listen to reason.”

“Try me.”

Kyle made a frustrated sound and caved. “I just tapped into the company security feed. Tiffany Snow is sitting at the desk outside Mendez’s office.”

Tension shot through Blake’s body at the name of the dark-haired beauty who, only a week before in Denver, had fucked him, drugged him, and stolen a file that was supposed to prove he was trustworthy to the cartel. “Tiffany Snow is here? In San Francisco?”

“That’s right. You only thought you covered up the mess she created. She set you up and you’re headed to your own funeral.”

Blake’s mind raced with the real possibility Kyle was right, but he quickly discarded it for logic. If Tiffany Snow was working for Mendez after stealing documents meant for the cartel, then she’d double-crossed them in Denver. That meant she had as much to lose by exposing what had happened in Denver as he did. That didn't mean she wasn’t dangerous, or working for one of the cartel’s competitors, but she wasn't working for Mendez or Alvarez either.

“I can handle this,” Blake finally replied. “I’m staying the course.”

“Whatever you’re thinking about this woman, think again. It’s too big a coincidence that you were just put on a plane to San Francisco from Denver with no notice, and she’s there waiting on you.”

“I’m doing this.”

The elevator dinged and Kyle cursed, clearly having heard it. “Damn it, Blake, stay alive. If your brothers find out I helped you go after Alvarez and let you get killed, we’ll both be dead.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Blake said dryly, “but don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere but to my meeting.” The doors slid open and Blake ended the call before stepping onto the shiny white and gray tile of the sleek triangle-shaped lobby.