48. Knox

This wasn't what Knox had signed up for. He'd joined Blackwood to help people, to save people, rules and bureaucracy be damned. But now, for the most important job of his life, he'd been sidelined. Forced to watch from the in-your-face extravagance of Kory Balachandran's father's yacht. Six times, uniformed staff had asked whether he wanted a snack, a drink, anything at all, and he'd struggled to rein in his temper as he banned them from the palatial saloon. Jubilee was still keeping out of the way on the sundeck, and Kory had made himself scarce. Five minutes after Knox snapped at the last unfortunate steward, Luna had tiptoed in, carefully placed a bottle of chilled mineral water at Knox's elbow, and asked softly if there was any news. When he said there wasn't, she'd left as quietly as she arrived.

Emmy and the rest of the team—minus Black—were on Malavilla, putting the finishing touches to tonight's mission. Ingress, egress, ten different backup plans. The men at Havana Hills were still an unknown quantity. Because of the circumstances—a barely sanctioned op in a foreign country—they needed to avoid bloodshed, broken bones, and dead bodies, which was somewhat of a disappointment. Lynching was too good for Aiden Kingsley.

Knox only hoped that the man did something stupid, like pulling a gun on Emmy. She'd mentioned that she wouldn't hesitate to shoot in self-defence, and she'd said it with a glint in her eye.

Caro deserved justice. So did Stacey and Monique, the latter of whom there was still no sign. With Blackwood handling the visit to Havana Hills, Fernandez had focused on the search for the missing woman, but her friends and family claimed they hadn't seen her. For the most part, he believed them, although there was one guy, an ex, who Fernandez thought might be lying. Not "involved in her abduction" lying, but "covering for a woman he still cared about" lying. Knox hoped he was. Hoped that Monique was safe and far away from San Gallicano. At least Wednesday's body hadn't been her. The ME had identified the man as Tomas Laker using a print from his one remaining finger. Dental records had confirmed the match. He'd been a petty criminal, in and out of jail since he was eighteen and a guest at San Gallicano's one and only juvenile facility before that. Coincidentally, he'd gone to school with Officer Jason Roy. Roy, of course, denied having anything to do with him, but all the tiny pieces of circumstantial evidence were piling up.

Knox switched to a live view from Sky's bodycam. She was hunkered down in the undergrowth, watching the largest outbuilding at Havana Hills. Barely fifteen yards away, a mean-looking motherfucker carrying a sidearm was smoking—a cigarette, not a cigar—but Sky didn't flinch, didn't waver. Knox saw a lot of Emmy in her, and he knew Emmy did too. She learned quickly, mentored by both Emmy and Rafael, although her relationship with the latter was still a mystery. The two of them finished each other's sentences, and Rafael would kill to protect her, yet Sky was dating Asher, an up-and-coming racecar driver who spent more time indulging in his love of cars than his love of Sky.

Knox snorted quietly to himself. Who was he to criticise someone else's relationship when his own pitiful hookups rarely lasted more than a week? Until Caro… He thought he might love her. Knew that if she came back, he'd move heaven and earth to make her happy.

"Do you want any lunch?" Luna asked from the doorway.

"I'm not hungry."

"Is there anything I can do to?—?"

"No."

"Uh, okay."

She backed away, and Knox tamped down the guilt that niggled. Sure, Luna was trying to help now, and maybe there was truth in Ryder's claim that she was a different person under the brattish exterior, but she bore some responsibility for what was happening today. If Aiden was involved, if he'd seen that fucking social media post…

Knox turned back to the screen and watched the guard puff out smoke.