She glanced down. “He’s dead.” Bitterness twisted inside her and she forced her gaze to his. “Our parents didn’t survive the attack.” Rushing past her confession before he offered sympathy that never helped, she quickly added, “I know my sister got involved with Ignacio. I’m just praying she’s still alive.”

Several beats passed, his expression impossible to read—until, abruptly, he moved, sitting up and giving her his back. Kara pushed to a sitting position, unsure what to think, watching him scrub a hand over his face before he stood up and whirled on her with a challenge. “And you thought you’d just walk into the cartel and find your sister yourself?” he demanded, his hands settling on his hips. “Are you insane, Kara? We’re talking about one of the largest, most dangerous cartels in the world.”

She scooted to the end of the bed and curled her fingers into the mattress. “This is my sister, Blake. This isn’t about the cartel. This is about her. She’s all I have.” Her voice cracked. She hated how weak it made her seem. “I don’t know if you have siblings. I don’t know how important they are, but—”

“Two brothers,” he surprised her by sharing. “And yes. I’d die for either or both of them but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you die for yours. What was the purpose of drugging me in Denver?”

Kara blinked at the sudden turn of subject, but she rolled with the punches, too deep into this to turn back now. “I wanted the documentation you were handing over to the cartel.”

“Why?”

“I never worked for the Denver operation. I knew about the meeting through Mendez and I knew high-level officials would be in the reports. I thought some of them might be tied to the missing women in some way. And I’m not stupid enough to think I could do this all on my own, by the way. That list had powerful names on it. If I can tie one of them to the sex-slave operation, even slip it to the press, then I can convince my superiors to take action.”

He glared at her, fury pouring from his eyes. “I could have killed you, Kara. If I was anyone else, I would have killed you. You’re over your head and headed to the bottom of the bay with concrete blocks on your feet. If you think I’m going to let that happen, think again.”

She should have been comforted by his protectiveness. She wasn’t. Not when she was confident he meant to interfere in all the wrong ways in her investigation. “I’m going to find my sister.”

“I’m going to find your sister,” he corrected. “But right now, I’m going outside to make a call. Don’t even think about trying to leave. I’ll be by the door.” He pushed to his feet and headed across the room and down the stairs.

Kara was on her feet in two seconds flat, running for the kitchen and opening a cabinet, pulling a gun out of a box of cereal and then running for the window, hoping she could hear his call. Praying he wasn’t going to call Ignacio or Mendez. Praying she’d been right to trust him.

Cracking the window open, she squatted down and listened, letting the heavy weight of her weapon be her security blanket. When Blake returned, she was going to be ready for him.

***

Kara had too much in common with Whitney, and Whitney was dead. He wasn’t letting Kara end up that way too.

Fighting a bloody flashback of the night Whitney had died, Blake walked down the stairs of Kara’s apartment with every nerve ending in his body jumping. That night, that damnable night, when Whitney had been undercover inside the cartel, lived deep in his soul, a rabid animal clawing away at him, slowing ripping him to pieces. And now Kara was inside the cartel, just as Whitney had been, too close to a man who would slit her throat and forget her before the blade ever left her skin. She was too close to dead, too easily stolen away. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care, but he did. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to give a damn about anything but killing Alvarez.

Shoving open the door, he exited into the cool San Francisco air, the breeze a welcome relief from the heat of his anger and, yes, his fear. He’d not felt fear in a long damn time, but he felt it now. Fear pissed him off. Fear gutted a person and destroyed them. Fear did not let him hunt Alvarez with all guns blazing, balls to the wall.

“Fuck!” he cursed, using the word Kara hated because she hated it, because he didn’t want to feel this growing attachment to her. Pacing, he tried to burn off the adrenaline burning through his body. Kara was going to hate him when he was done with her tonight, and trying to convince himself that was for the best. It was what had to happen. He couldn’t keep her close to him as he had Whitney. He couldn’t risk getting her killed. Kara hating him might be good. Maybe then he could stop thinking about her, stop with this damnable distraction that was going to make him give a damn if he was killed. Giving a damn and fear—two things that would be his weaknesses to Alvarez, and both came down to one person. Kara. Kara was his true weakness.

Blake stopped pacing, scrubbing a hand over his face. Grinding his teeth, he snatched his phone from his pocket and glanced discreetly at the window above, finding the barely there crack he expected to see. Kara was listening to see who he called. There had never been a chance in hell this woman was a secretary, and if she thought Mendez was stupid enough to believe that himself, she was wrong. He’d figure her out sooner than later, if he hadn’t already.

Dreading the call he was about to make, Blake punched the auto-dial for his brother Luke. “Where the hell are you?” Luke asked the instant he answered. “You damn sure aren’t on the job you said you were on. I checked. I’ve left you three messages. Why aren’t you answering your phone?”