18. Vinnie
18
VINNIE
A week earlier…
The old woman squints at me. “Is that really you, Mario?” She reaches a trembling hand toward me. “My God, you haven’t changed a bit.”
Mario. I do look a lot like him. When he was young, he looked remarkably like me, only he was a couple inches shorter.
“I knew you’d come, Mario.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I never stopped believing.”
She wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her worn dress, her gaze never leaving my face. For a moment, I can only stand there in shock, my mind racing to catch up with what I am hearing. What should have been a simple mission is now turning into something far more complex.
Oh my God. This is why Mario sent me here. This is why he wanted Puzo out of the way. This is why he wanted to work with Agudelo. The territory is nothing.
This woman is why I’m here.
“Serena?” I say.
She nods, tears forming in her sunken eyes.
“I never stopped loving you, Mario. I always knew you’d come back for me.”
Serena Deville. The one woman Mario loved. The woman his father wouldn’t let him have.
The woman who was taken from him but not murdered.
No.
He said what they did to her was far worse.
How long has she been here? She’s older than Agudelo. Did his father bring her here? Has she been kept prisoner all this time? What did they do to her?
Torture her? Rape her? Starve her? Beat her?
My guess is all four and then some.
The thought sends a wave of shocking anger coursing through me, but I stifle it.
I need to focus. She needs help. Now.
“Serena,” I whisper again, stepping further into the room. “I’m not Mario. I’m his… He’s my…” I fumble for words, my mind spinning. The truth would be complicated and hard to believe, especially for someone in such a fragile state. “I need to get you out of here, Serena.”
“Get me out?” she repeats my words, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes, so full of hope a moment ago, seem to flicker with fear. “But how? The door is always locked.”
“I have a key,” I reply. “We will leave this place together.”
“But the guards. And Senor…”
“I’ll deal with them,” I say before she can finish her sentence. I don’t know exactly how yet, but one thing is certain. I won’t leave her here.
Perhaps Daniela can help me again. I’ll get Serena out of here somehow. I have a two-hour window to get her out of the room and to someplace safe without anyone knowing. Agudelo isn’t here, but his staff is. Morehouse is.
I glance around the room and spot an old blanket. I drape it over Serena’s frail form and help her sit up on the bed. She’s weak but manages to hold onto me.
“We need to be quiet and swift,” I tell her.
She nods, clutching onto my hand.
I help her stand and then lift her into my arms. She’s light as a feather. I take her out of the room and into the dimly lit attic. We move as silently as possible towards the concealed staircase leading down.
The house is eerily quiet. The silence seems to stretch out around us, amplifying the softest of sounds—Serena’s strained breaths, my pounding heart. As we creep down the stairs, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder every now and then.
Just when we reach the landing at the bottom of the stairs, a soft creak echoes from somewhere down the corridor.
I pull Serena behind an aged wooden armoire that’s pressed against the wall. The scuffling of steps grows louder before gradually fading away.
“Who was that?” Serena whispers.
“A guard, maybe. Or one of Agudelo’s men,” I say, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “We can’t wait around to find out.”
Gently, I carry her through the corridor to my room, where I pound on Elmo’s adjoining door. My heart beats in my chest like a drum, each thud echoing loudly in my ears.
Elmo opens the door, his eyes widening when he sees Serena. But then he regains his composure. “Daniela came to me. I’ve got a car ready to go. How much time is left?”
I look at my watch. “Only fifteen minutes.”
“We should be able to make it. Are you packed?”
“I never unpacked.” I pat my pocket. “I keep my passport on me at all times.”
“Good. Let’s go. Daniela’s already in the car.”
“Did she know…?”
He shakes his head. “No. I had a suspicion about why we were really here, but I wasn’t sure.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I grit out.
“I was under orders from your grandfather. But you’ve done it. He’ll be pleased.” He looks over his shoulder. “Let’s go before the security comes back on. We have to be careful of the night guards. Morehouse and the other staff are all in bed.”
I nod.
Agudelo is gone for the night, and I’ll be gone by morning.
With both Serena and Daniela.
So the deal won’t be finalized.
Mario won’t care.
Because I have what he ultimately wanted me to get for him.
The drive to the airport is long, and the air in the car is tense. Serena is, of course, out of it, and Daniela is gripping the armrest for dear life, her nails digging into the leather.
It’s clear that a lively conversation isn’t going to help pass the time on the drive to the airport, so I get out my laptop. It’s connected to the Internet through my phone.
Agudelo will try to come after me. Vega as well. And then there’s McAllister to deal with too. I have to figure out a way to make sure all three of them are taken care of.
First there’s Vega. I have a feeling he’ll be the slipperiest of them all. After all, he convinced my entire family that he was dead for years. And Mario Bianchi is a difficult man to deceive.
In my observations of Vega the last two weeks, I’ve noted only one consistency—he attends a local soccer match every Sunday in some sort of devotion to his roots. He invited me along to the game last weekend and bought me an empanada from a local street vendor, who recognized him immediately. Perhaps there’s a way to poison him through there.
Then there’s McAllister. I haven’t gotten the chance to know him too well, besides our interactions at his home and then at the hospital. In both instances, I was otherwise occupied. First with Belinda, and then with my dying mother. I’ll have to hire a private investigator to figure out his routine and then work from there. He will not be happy about my marriage to Daniela, so I’ll have to make a strike on him pretty quickly as well.
I’ll also have to figure out a way to make sure that Belinda is taken care of in the wake of her father’s demise. I make a mental note to get in contact with some trusted sources with social services.
Which brings me to Agudelo. He will be the easiest. I’ve been able to observe him in pretty close quarters the past three weeks. His routine isn’t terribly predictable, but his propensity for lavish parties is. Every weekend he hosts several of his friends at his mansion along with an assemblage of female escorts. Daniela, thank God, was no longer required to attend these parties after we announced our engagement, but I was still expected to make an appearance. Agudelo, even after the engagement, encouraged me to take one of the women to my bedroom, but of course I never did. His friends did, though. One by one they would disappear into one of the mansion’s many bedrooms.
Agudelo himself would wait until the last of his friends had taken a woman and then retire to his study for a cigar, usually around midnight. That will be when he’s at his most vulnerable. I send a few messages to some Bianchi allies on the ground here to see if they can’t get in to one of those parties and take him out after he retires.
I bet there’s an in through the waitstaff. He always hires a bunch to hand out booze and hors d’oeuvres. Maybe if I can hack into his finances, I can figure out which caterers he hires and go from there.
Luckily, this is something I’m quite good at. Every so often while I was in Europe, I had to scrape a few bucks off of some demented millionaire’s bank account to keep my own funds safe. I make sure that my VPN is still secure and then open a custom hacking tool on my laptop—a program I coded myself while overseas, designed to exploit common vulnerabilities in financial databases. I know Agudelo keeps most of his money in the Banco de Bogotá, as I’ve seen his checkbook a few times whenever he’s made payments. I access the bank’s website and then launch a phishing attack, planting malware that allows me to bypass the security layers. Within minutes, I’ve gained access to Agudelo’s encrypted financial records.
I skim through the information, looking for any information on who Agudelo has hired to cater his raucous parties. Looks like he’s engaged the services of a place called “Sabor Ajiaco” for his last several events. That’s my in.
I’m about to log off and wipe my digital trail clean when I notice a few big transfers of money from Agudelo’s account. They’ve both been made in American dollars, which seems odd. The first is a $100,000 transfer to someone named J. Smith. I can’t help a laugh. That’s a fake name if I ever saw one.
But the next transfer makes my blood run cold.
Fifty million dollars. Dated the same day I flew to Colombia.
Made payable to the Raven’s Wings Foundation.
Present Day…
The ballroom is buzzing with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting sparkles over the elegantly dressed attendees. I stand near the entrance, greeting guests and keeping a watchful eye on the room. This event is crucial for the Bellamys’ public image—and for my own plans.
I scan the crowd, pausing here and there on familiar faces. Politicians, businessmen, socialites—all here to support a good cause. The Raven’s Wings Foundation is a noble effort, dedicated to funding blood cancer research and treatment. It’s a legitimate cause, which makes my presence here all the more important.
Then I see her.
Raven.
She’s standing near the stage, talking to a small group of admirers. Her short dark hair, barely grown out, catches the light and frames her face in a way that’s both striking and delicate.
Her dark eyes shine with a light that’s hard to ignore, her smile genuine as she speaks to her supporters. There’s something about her, something raw and real, that pulls me in.
Has pulled me in since the first time I laid eyes on her, when her head was covered in dark peach fuzz. My heart beats faster in her presence, and my groin tightens. I can hardly breathe as images of devouring those full pink lips invade my mind.
They were the softest and sweetest lips I’ve ever kissed…
I draw in a breath and walk toward her, the need to be close to her nearly overwhelming me.
I should stay away. I promised to stay away.
But damn…
I weave through the crowd and nod at people I mostly don’t recognize. After all, I’ve only been back in this country a couple months, not counting my time in Colombia. When I reach her, she’s just finished her conversation and turns to face me.
“Vinnie,” she says, her voice warm and inviting, as if what transpired between us never happened. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Raven.” God, her lips. They glisten with a silvery effervescence. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Congratulations on the event.”
“Thank you,” she says, her gaze locking onto mine. “It…means a lot to have your support.”
For a moment, we stand there, the noise of the ballroom fading into the background. I’m struck by the depth in her eyes. She’s been through hell and back—part of it due to me—yet she stands here, a pillar of strength.
Does she remember what we shared?
What we said to each other?
Of course she does. And she probably wants me to get the hell out of here. But for the sake of looking good for the board of her new foundation, she’s remaining cordial.
What I really want to know is if, under her warm facade, her heart is breaking like mine is in this moment—this moment when we must pretend to be mere acquaintances.
“I have to admit,” I say, leaning in slightly, “I’m impressed by what you’ve accomplished. The foundation, your journey… It’s inspiring.”
Her smile widens, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “That means a lot…coming from you.”
Does it?
Or is this part of the show?
Before I can respond, an amplified voice interrupts us.
“May I have your attention please.”
I look toward the front of the ballroom where a man stands at the podium. Austin Bellamy, dressed like the Texas rancher he is. At first glance, his black tuxedo and crisp white shirt seem like normal cocktail attire, but the bolo tie with the turquoise gemstone slide shows his roots.
What doesn’t show is the grisly side of him I’ve recently discovered.
“Thank you all for coming this evening to our gala in support of my daughter’s new foundation, Raven’s Wings. We won’t take up a lot of your time, but it’s only proper that the founder herself say a few words. Come on up here, sweetheart.”
Raven waves me off and makes her way through the crowd to step up to the microphone. The room falls silent, all eyes on her.
“Good evening, everyone,” she begins, her voice clear and strong. “Thank you all for being here tonight and for supporting the Raven’s Wings Foundation for the research and treatment of blood cancers. This foundation is incredibly personal to me, and I’d like to share a bit of my story with you.” She pauses and scans the room. “A few years ago, I was diagnosed with leukemia. It was the most terrifying moment of my life. The uncertainty, the pain, the endless treatments—it was a battle I wasn’t sure I could win. At first, I was overwhelmed by fear and despair. The thought of losing my life, of leaving my loved ones behind, haunted me day and night.”
The audience is silent, hanging on her every word.
“I remember the nights spent in the hospital, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I would ever see another sunrise. Each day was a struggle, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. The treatments were brutal. There were days I couldn’t get out of bed, days I wanted to give up. But through it all, I found strength in the love and support of my family. They were my rock, my reason to keep fighting.”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes glistening with emotion.
“My brother Falcon was my greatest support. When the doctors said the traditional treatments for my type of leukemia had failed and that I needed a bone marrow transplant, he was the only match out of three brothers and a twin sister. Without a second thought, he stepped up and gave me the ultimate gift.”
Without a second thought? Raven’s need got him an early release from prison, though I understand why Raven isn’t mentioning that fact. Everyone here knows anyway.
“His bone marrow saved my life. His selfless act cured me, and I stand here today, cancer-free, because of him. Falcon, thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Across the room, I see Falcon Bellamy stand up and nod at his sister. He looks good in a tux, but it’s so odd seeing him in anything other than ranch wear. Savannah is beaming next to him in a midnight-blue gown. Neither of them looks at me. They might not even have realized I’m here.
The audience applauds, some wiping away tears.
“But our journey didn’t end there,” she continues, her voice gaining strength. “Surviving cancer gave me a new purpose. I knew I had to give back, to help others facing the same battle. That’s why I founded the Raven’s Wings Foundation. Our mission is to fund research and provide treatment for blood cancers, to give hope to those who need it most.”
She pauses, looking around the room, her gaze firm and determined.
“I want to share a moment that changed my perspective during my treatment. The night after the transplant, I should have been ecstatic, but I was feeling particularly low. I was tired of the pain, the uncertainty. I felt like I was losing myself. My brother Falcon sat beside me, held my hand, and told me that it was okay to be scared, that it was okay to feel weak. He reminded me that being strong doesn’t mean never feeling fear or pain—it means pushing through despite those feelings. It was in that moment that I realized strength isn’t about never falling. It’s about getting back up every time you do.”
I can almost hear the words in Falcon’s voice. He was speaking about his time behind bars. Savannah has told me that he learned that survival on the inside depended on internal as well as external strength.
The room is silent. I look around at the awed faces. Everyone seems captivated by Raven’s words.
“This foundation is not just about finding a cure. It’s about supporting patients and their families, about providing hope and strength to those in the darkest moments of their lives. Tonight, your generosity will help us continue this vital work. Together, we can make a difference. Together, we can give hope to those who need it most.”
She steps back from the microphone and the room erupts in applause. As she makes her way down from the stage, she catches my eye and smiles.
As the applause dies down, I know two things for certain.
One—I’ve given up Raven Bellamy for her own good, but I’ll never love another. Not even the gorgeous woman, my blushing bride, who I brought to this event as my plus-one.
And two?—
I will kill a man tonight to protect her.