Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
I gnacio left his bodyguard downstairs and took the private elevator to the top floor where his father’s office was located. Benicio’s executive assistant waved him through, and he knocked on the door before entering.
“ ?Qué pasa, papá? ” he said.
Benicio was standing behind his desk and glanced up. He switched to Spanish too. “Hi, son. Give me a second.”
“Take your time.” He appreciated his father being willing to meet with him in the middle of the day on such short notice. He was busy, not only with work but also with the transition of Thiago take over the business.
He sauntered over to the sitting area, where two leather couches flanked a table with a couple of business magazines on the surface. “Will Thiago be moving into this office?”
“No, and I need a place to work when I come in occasionally. He brought in designers to combine two offices, and they’re already working on the renovations.”
“I bet it’s much different from this.”
“Much,” his father agreed with a laugh.
Benicio’s taste ran more traditional, with dark wood finishes on all the furniture, a built-in bookcase, and a credenza. Knowing Thiago, he’d want a modern aesthetic to match his office in Brazil.
Benicio gathered a few documents from his desk, placed them inside the top drawer, and then locked it. “I’m starving,” he said, picking up his charcoal jacket from the back of his leather chair and slipping his arms into the sleeves.
“Did you decide where you wanted to eat?”
Benicio buttoned his jacket as he moved from behind the desk. “I thought we could walk to a restaurant down the street. There’s a great little Ethiopian place that I’ve eaten at twice in the past month.”
“Sounds good to me. I haven’t had Ethiopian cuisine in a long time.” Ignacio fell into step beside him.
They took the elevator to the first floor and exited a side door onto the street. As they passed by the front of the building, Ignacio told Randall he didn’t have to come and to wait in the car.
Ignacio had pulled his hair into a bun and wore a black cap low on his face. In the hustle and bustle of downtown Atlanta, he didn’t anticipate anyone paying him any attention.
As both men strolled down the sidewalk, Benicio asked, “What happened the other night between you and the music executive?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? The news said you punched him and stomped him. That sounds like something Thiago would do, not you.”
“I didn’t stomp him, but I should have.” His publicist had issued statements on his behalf to calm the frenzy after he hit Leo and insisted that he steer clear of the media and use the standard No comment response if asked about the incident.
He didn’t care about himself. His only regret was that he had caused Delta more trauma. When he found her on the floor in the bathroom and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, the world had collapsed around him. He had seen nothing but pain and wanted to stop it. If he could, he would kill Leo Hargrove, but instead of murder, he was going to keep his promise to Delta and fix the mess he had made.
“And why should you have stomped him?” Benicio asked.
“He’s a vile human being, and a beatdown was long overdue.”
Ignacio changed the subject, and he and his father chatted about mundane topics until they arrived at the restaurant. Inside, the waitress led them through a maze of black-stained teakwood tables. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, creating a stark contrast to the restaurant’s dimly lit interior. Ignacio slid onto a booth seat and picked up the menu but decided to let his father order for them both since he’d eaten there multiple times.
When the server left them alone, he folded his arms on the table.
“Are you ready to tell me why you wanted to have this meeting? When you said you needed to talk right away, I was concerned.”
“I have a problem, and I need your help figuring something out.”
“Tell me about it.”
Their male server approached and placed their club sodas on the table.
When he left, Ignacio leaned toward his father. “I have a friend who has a problem?—”
“A friend?” His father arched a white eyebrow.
“Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking. The problem is really someone else’s.” He had to convince his father of this, or he’d be concerned. Despite them all being adults, his parents still worried about them and were willing to help whenever problems arose.
“Okay, go ahead,” Benicio said, pouring his water into a glass filled with ice.
“As I mentioned, my friend has a problem. Something happened to them a long time ago. It was a crime, and the person who committed the crime against them has a video and recently threatened to release it.”
His father frowned. “Isn’t the person who committed the crime worried about the release of this video? It would incriminate them, wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” Ignacio confirmed. “But the victim has an irrational fear of being exposed and refuses to accept that. They think the perpetrator may release the video, or parts of it, to make them look bad. They’re terrified of this happening.”
Benicio scratched his beard. “That’s a tough position to be in. They’re a victim being victimized again.”
“Exactly.” Ignacio lowered his voice. “I have an idea of how to help them, but I’m not sure where to turn for this help.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I need to get the video.”
Benicio nodded slowly. “That’s the best option. Is there any chance there are multiple copies?”
“Possibly, and if there are, we’d need to get them too. Do you know of anyone who could handle this type of situation? I don’t care about the cost.”
His father studied him for a fraction of a second before asking, “You’re footing the bill for this… friend?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Well, I have an idea of someone who could help—maybe. Your friend’s problem sounds like the kind of thing they could assist with, but you’d have to talk to them and find out for sure. I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
“Okay,” Ignacio said, anxiously awaiting the information.
Benicio also leaned in. “Oscar and Sylvie’s son-in-law works for a company of ex-military people or something like that. To be honest, I’m not sure, but I know they’re good at what they do, and I took several cards from Oscar in case I ever find myself in a bind.”
He reached into his pocket, removed his wallet, and pulled out a card, which he slid across the table.
Ignacio picked it up. “Tyrone Evers, The Cordoba Agency.”
Benicio nodded. “He’s their son-in-law, a former cop. Anyway, the company itself is a security and investigative firm, but Oscar hinted they could handle situations no one else can.”
“This might be exactly what I’m looking for.”
“Give Tyrone a call and see what he says. He’ll let you know if they can help or not.”
“Thanks. I knew you’d have an answer.”
“It’s nice to still be needed,” his father said with a low chuckle.
Ignacio tucked the card into the front pocket of his jeans. “You’ll always be needed.”
Benicio smiled. “So, tell me what’s going on with your film project.”
They spent the rest of the meal discussing his ideas and the decision to add the twist after Delta’s suggestion, which Benicio agreed was a good idea.
When the food arrived, they indulged in huge platters of meat seasoned with onions, peppers, and a blend of spices. On the side were potato stew, mushroom stew, and rolls of teff injera.
Finally, they left the restaurant, Ignacio carrying a container with a meal for his bodyguard. As they strolled up the sidewalk, he finally broached another subject that had been on his mind since he learned about the role Delta’s parents played in giving that monster access to her.
“Father, I want to thank you. Not only for the help you just provided but for how you protected me when I was younger. You never let me travel alone and wanted to be involved in every aspect of my acting career. I hated that shit.”
Benicio chuckled. “Yes, and I remember how upset you always were.”
“I understand now, and I understand why you said no to certain events. At the time, I couldn’t grasp why you’d have me miss out on opportunities that could help my career, and I didn’t care when you explained there would be other opportunities.”
Though he’d benefited from having actor parents, when he was younger, he’d assumed he could be further along in his career if his father hadn’t limited his options. His parents often argued about his career because his mother believed he was old enough and mature enough to handle more of the industry, but Benicio had disagreed.
Ignacio usually sided with his mother’s assessment, but now he knew better. He didn’t think she cared any less about him than Benicio, but more than likely, she had been more optimistic about his chances because he was male.
His father shot him a sidelong glance. “What happened to make you think about those days all of a sudden and change your mind about how I limited your activities?”
They stopped near the front of Santana International. “Call it growth. Understanding. Clarity.”
“I know show business, and I knew you were not ready for it.” His father sighed. “It’s easy to be coerced into things you wouldn’t want to do because of the glitz and glamour and the money. I knew you loved acting, but as your parent, it was my job to keep you away from harm. There are many young people who left the industry scarred. I didn’t want you to suffer like them.”
“I understand now, and I’m sorry for being such a little shit back then.”
His father smiled. “One day, you’ll have your own children, and I expect you to do the same.”
“I will, believe me. I’ll probably be worse than you, and they’ll hate my guts.”
“I hope they don’t,” his father said with a laugh. “Everything with you and Delta is good, yes?”
“We’re working through some things, but we’re good.”
“Hmm. I like her, but no more back-and-forth nonsense. The two of you need to decide if you’re going to stay together.”
“This time is different. We will.”
“I hope so. Let me know how things go with The Cordoba Agency, and if you need me again, you know where I am.”
“Thanks.”
Benicio patted his arm and lifted the brim of the hat to kiss his temple, the way he used to when he was a kid.
Ignacio watched his father enter the building and then headed toward his car. As he waited to cross the street, he pulled out the card again.
The Cordoba Agency.
He’d give them a call today. He sure hoped they could help.