Nate kept his gun trained on the man. The sound of Ben moaning yanked his attention across the warehouse. Ben was on his knees clutching the side of his head. Blood spurted from between his fingers.

“He fucking shot me,” Ben moaned.

“I’ll shoot you again if you don’t tell me why you killed him!” the man—Nate had no idea who he was—shouted. He had greasy dark hair tied back in a ponytail, angry eyes, mouth twisted in a grimace. His neck was more ink than skin.

“I didn’t!” Ben wailed. “I swear!”

Feeble rays of light from the lantern on the floor next to him turned his skin a sickly yellow.

“I said, drop your weapon! Now!” Nate repeated.

“No!” the man shouted. The inked veins in his neck pulsed, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “I’ve finally found him; I’m not gonna stop until he tells me the truth.”

“Okay.” Nate recognized a man on the brink when he saw one. “Then tell me who you think he killed.”

“He killed my brother.”

“Your brother?”

The man turned and fully met Nate’s eye. “Yeah, my brother. Santiago Martinez.”

Nate’s breath caught. “Ben killed him?”

“It couldn’ta been no one else! We worked together, dealing the same shit. His guys, they deal out here; my guys, we’re in Seattle. Santiago told me he was working for some task force agent. They had him on a drug charge and the only way out for him was to rat his guys out. He told me so I could get out before he did it. He thought Violeta heard him on the phone with the agent, and right after that Santiago turns up dead, and then Violeta turns up dead. Ben did them both.”

“I didn’t do it!” Ben shouted. “I thought Violeta killed Santiago!”

“She didn’t do it, puto cabrón! We went together to Santiago’s house to get the fentanyl. She was with me when we found him!”

Nate was so stunned he almost lowered his weapon. “Then who killed Santiago?”

A sound drew his attention to the door.

Emma? What the hell?

And Gabe Wilson was right behind her. His wife’s jeans were wet and muddy, leaves clinging to her hat and coat. She had a gun clutched in her hand.

Nate’s eyes widened. What was she doing here, and where had she gotten a weapon?

Emma’s arrival was the brief distraction Carlos needed. He squeezed the trigger, pointing his gun first at Nate, then at Ben.

Nate threw himself to the ground.

“Get down!” he shouted at Emma.