But to Alan, it was a betrayal.

It meant Sinclair was in on it.

It meant that the man who had mentored Alan had also been in cahoots with the man who had murdered his brother in cold blood.

Vengeance was a powerful drug, one that could propel a man to do seemingly crazy things. Sam was living proof of that fact, and he could see the fuse burning away on Alan’s nobility.

‘Hey, listen.’ Sam stepped forward and put his clammy hand on Alan’s shoulder. ‘Don’t let it beat you. Use it. Channel it. But don’t lose focus here. Whatever the hell is going on, we’ll bring it down. If Sinclair is involved, we bring him down, too. But let’s not forget what we came here to do.’

Alan took a few deep breaths before shutting down his phone and sliding it away. He nodded, doing his best to swallow the betrayal and mask the heartache it had caused. It was for his own benefit more than Sam’s, and Sam chose to ignore it.

Before Alan could respond, the sound of an engine roared, and both men turned to the highway they’d travelled to the derelict bar on. When they’d walked alongside it, they never witnessed one car or any semblance of life.

No one headed out this way without a reason.

Least of all a three-car motorcade, the sun beaming down on the black Range Rovers as they slowly came into view. The horizon line was blurred through the heat, and Sam and Alan moved quickly to the bushes that surrounded the tiki bar, shielding themselves from view. A few minutes later, the cars rolled by the bar, pulling into the car park. Numerous doors opened and shut, and they heard a volatile voice shout orders in Spanish. Amongst the yelling, they both heard the unmistakable clicking of a weapon being loaded.

‘You smart son of a bitch,’ Alan whispered. ‘What’s the plan?’

‘I need you to stay here, keep an eye on things.’ Sam peered through the bushes and caught sight of Vasquez. Dressed in an expensive suit, he barked orders at the man Sam had disarmed in the back of the car.

Beside them, the scrawny man still had a gun held to Alex, whose hands and mouth were layered with duct tape.

Sam felt his every muscle tighten. Every impulse urged him to rush headfirst towards them.

He had twelve in the clip and one in the chamber, and he could guarantee he was a better shot than them all.

The only problem was he had no idea how many others were in the other vehicles.

Giving away their position would leave himself, Alan, and Alex buried in an unmarked grave, left to rot under the boiling soil.

‘You’re leaving?’ Alan barked; his eyebrows raised.