Free Sinful Deception (Covert Affairs Book 3) by Skye Jordan Page B

had no way of telling if this was one.
    A man approached from the darkness, Hispanic but smaller than the other two, and calmer. “Where’s your brother?”
    “Christ,” she said, “He’s in Mexico . Why would you think he’s here? He can’t get into the United Sta—”
    A hand connected with her face, and her head jerked sideways. Hard. Her neck tweaked. Pain launched through her cheek, forehead, mouth, shoulders. A sob ebbed from her throat, and she gasped for air.
    “You’re here. He’s been here. And he owes us money,” the calm one said. “All of our debts get paid, one way or another. And someone’s going to pay—in cash or blood.”
    Her mind searched for answers. Cedro must have run the border again, agreed to some desperate arrangement to make payment when he got here. She scanned her bank accounts, then friends she might be able to borrow money from. “H-how much?”
    “Twenty grand.”
    Disbelief clouded her mind. “ Twenty—? ”
    “You heard me. And we want it. Now .”
    “I— I— We—” What could she say? She didn’t have it. She knew Cedro didn’t have it. Had no idea how they could get it. “Why?”
    “Why doesn’t matter. What matters is he owes. And that he betrayed us. Either you find your brother and tell us where he is…” The man leaned closed, reached back, and fisted Tova’s hair, jerking her head hard. Pain crawled over her scalp, and she cried out. “Or you’ll be the one to pay for his debt, chica.”
    * * * * *
    Marcus turned onto Sugarman Lane with squealing tires and jerked to a stop where all the cop cars were clustered on the corner. He’d had too much time to think on his way over—thirty excruciating minutes to imagine all that could have happened to Tova. What might be happening to Tova right this minute. What could still happen to Tova.
    He jumped out of the truck and jogged toward the house where cops huddled near the door. These were multimillion dollar homes, which didn’t fit with Tova’s rendition of money problems—roommate or not.
    “Who’s in charge?” he yelled before he’d even reached the sidewalk.
    “Brooks,” one of the cops near the door called inside. “Lucero’s here.”
    Zoe Brooks had been Marcus’s teammate on the line until a few months before, when she’d transferred into investigations at Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, a branch of Department of Homeland Security. He’d called her as soon as he’d left his house to ask her for help with the local authorities and extra resources for Tova’s case. But he hadn’t expected Zoe to come herself.
    She met Marcus in the foyer, and he pulled her into a hug. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. She was young and pretty, and one of the toughest agents he’d ever worked with. He’d trusted her with his life on numerous occasions.
    “What are you doing here?” He pulled away, holding her by the arms.
    “It turns out Tova Sorensen’s brother, Cedro Sorensen, has popped up on our radar as a two-time loser at the border.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I may have dirtied up that information just a touch to give us an in. That and a busy night for the locals allowed us to play.”
    Marcus didn’t know what to think about Tova anymore. “Sorensen’s not American?”
    Zoe tilted her head toward the hall, indicating she wanted to talk privately. When they’d stepped several yards away from the others and into a darkened living room, Zoe kept her voice low. “You’ve stumbled onto quite a mishmash here, my friend. Cedro Sorensen is a Mexican national.”
    He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Tova? Fuck, is she American?”
    Zoe rested a hand on his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Tova is American. The only American in the family. They were born to the same parents—one Mexican, one Swedish, but Tova was born in San Ysidero, Cedro in Tijuana.”
    The turmoil that must exist in her family instantly filled Marcus’s mind.
    “We