“Made the call while we were en route to rescue your crazy ass.”

“So Ben doesn’t know about our special friend back there?”

Eli smiled. “Not yet . . .”

“Are you taking him with you?” Gayle asked.

“Of course,” Jed said.

“We don’t know who this guy is,” Gayle said. “What if he’s a Peruvian citizen?”

“Then Peru is going to have one less citizen to worry about,” Eli said. “But don’t worry; we’re not going to involve you.”

Gayle nodded in reply, but Jed could see the gears turning in her head.

“Would you like us to keep you in the loop?” he asked. “Let you know what we find out?”

“Yes,” she said, glancing at him with a humble smile. “Because if my life implodes because of this, it sure would be nice if you guys didn’t turn into vapor on me . . . if you know what I mean.”

Jed glanced over his shoulder at Eli, who shrugged his opinion on the matter. Gayle had done them a solid tonight and it wasn’t in Jed’s DNA to not return the favor.

“If it comes to that, we won’t leave you out to dry,” he said, gently probing his swollen and throbbing left ear. “You have my word.”

CHAPTER
SIX

SHEPHERD PARTNER “WHITE SITE”

SANTA ANA PONIENTE

MEXICO CITY, MEXICO

0155 HOURS LOCAL

Jed winced as he stepped out of the Ford Expedition inside the covered garage at their partner “white site” in Santa Ana Poniente. He’d taken a significant beating during the ambush in Cuzco yesterday, and pain throbbed in numerous locations. During the flight from Peru to Mexico City, Bex had used a superslick portable ultrasound device to rule out broken bones and organ damage. She’d been most worried about a skull fracture or potential intercranial hemorrhage and consequently had scanned his head three times during the six-hour flight. He’d tried to reassure her that there wasn’t anything between his ears worth worrying about, but she’d kept a close eye on him until she was certain he was fine.

“You sure you don’t want Toradol?” Bex asked, stepping up beside him. “You look like you’re really hurting.”

“I’ll manage,” he said and suppressed a chuckle at her swollen nose and double black eyes from the punch she’d taken.

“I know—I look like a raccoon,” Bex said. “He popped me good.”

“That’s the concussion laughing, not me,” he said, crossing his heart. “I swear.”