4. Blood And Sand
4
BLOOD AND SAND
Dahlia
The Present
I scribble my signature across the dotted line, eyebrow raised as I hand the papers back to Gino. “So quickly?”
He nods and puts out another set of papers for me to sign, each one tabbed with post its in different colors. “After your call on Thursday, I started putting the paperwork together. It wasn’t too difficult. Luckily, the sale with Delano Montgomery Group hadn’t been finalized yet so it was easy to pull out of the deal. As soon as you’re done signing the original and the copies, I’ll make sure these get mailed first thing tomorrow morning. It’ll be express so they should get there no later than next Wednesday.”
My hand stills halfway through signing. The address of the Barcelona house stares back at me in bold black ink and my chest feels hollow.
My home…
I loved my house. It was the first thing that ever truly belonged to me, the first thing someone had ever gifted out of love instead of pity. Those first few months of renovation were exhausting but full of so much hope. Every jar of paint and bathroom tile was another stone set in the foundation of my future. Now that future has been reduced to a signature on paper. I can’t help but feel as though I’m signing away all my hopes and dreams but remind myself of how I got here. That future belonged to Alejandro and now I have to give it back.
Rian’s ultimatum was the push I needed to finally sever ties with my previous life but doing so comes with financial consequences. None of the money I have access to actually belongs to me and while the spending was fun, it was excessive and unnecessary. Last night, I kissed each of my credit cards goodbye before cutting them up and flushing the tiny pieces down the toilet. Lyss and I held a candlelight vigil while Do?a Ana prayed for the sewage pipes.
What I need to focus on now is establishing financial independence for myself. Losing the Barcelona house hurts more than I care to admit but it’s the only property whose sale proceeds I’m entitled to. I can still smell the varnish on my hands from all the refinishing I did in the gallery. Can still feel the bruises on my knees from all the hours I spent scrubbing and regrouting the tiles in the downstairs vestibule. I earned every cent of the 30 million euros it’s being sold for and if I had any interest in prolonging this, I’d make him pay more for it. As it is, I’m ready for this to be over. Alejandro’s been begging me to sell the house to him since the developers got involved. Seems like he finally got his wish…
“Dahlia?”
I lift my head. “Hm?”
“Are you sure about the townhouse?” he asks. “I’m sure we can work something out?—”
I shake my head. “I can’t. The townhouse is worth $15 million. More now after all the renovations I’ve done. I wouldn’t accept it as a gift and financially, the upkeep and property taxes would start to bleed me dry in five years.”
Alejandro will keep the proceeds from the sales of my other properties, including the house on 92 nd Street. It kills me to know I’ll have to leave but hopefully this next move will be the last for a while.
“All I ask is that he gives me until the end of the year. I won’t have time to move before graduation and I’m interning at Park and Cusick this summer.”
“Of course. Was there anything else?”
I open my mouth to respond when there’s a knock on the door. Li enters the room almost immediately.
“Rian told me you were up here.”
I manage a tight smile. “We’re almost done.”
He gives a pleasant smile in return, unwilling to let his distaste for me show. “Can I offer either of you a drink?”
Li approaches the bar cart by the fireplace. As one of The Empress’s finest patrons, my lawyer Gino has access to its numerous private meeting rooms. Since we both planned on being here this evening, we decided to take care of the paperwork now before he goes on vacation next week for his anniversary.
He drops his voice to a volume only I can hear. “Mr. Narvaez’s lawyers were sent a formal notice as well. Not sure if they saw it; I sent it pretty late in the afternoon and it’s already the middle of the night over there.”
Alejandro was told hours ago that I’m cutting financial ties with him and not a text or phone call since? Either he’s dead, furious, or doesn’t care. I should be happy about the first two. Instead, I find myself dreading the third.
I look over, and Li is shaking up a cocktail, surprisingly uninterested in our conversation. Then again, even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to hear us anyway. Muffled music from downstairs, chatting in the hall, and crackling from the fireplace make it too difficult. Every time a flame bursts, a jolt of fear runs through me and I angle my body away from the heat, reminded of a different fire entirely. Gino dismisses himself and I thank him for his help as I walk him out. When he’s gone, I shut the door, trapping both Li and me inside.
Li pours the cocktail into a martini glass and garnishes it with an orange twist. He extends the drink to me so I cross the room and take it from his outstretched hand. He pours the rest into a second glass which he lifts and clanks against mine.
“Blood and sand.”
I take a sip and a strange mix of scotch and orange juice coats my tongue. Both flavors fight for dominance against the sweet vermouth but there’s a fourth, more abstract taste I don’t recognize. Li answers as if having read my thoughts.
“Cherry herring,” he explains.
I finish half of it to be polite and abandon the glass on the bar cart. Li takes a few casual sips but I’ve never seen him finish a whole drink before. He likes to nurse whatever’s handed to him and part of me wonders if it’s because he fears being poisoned by someone. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him eat a full meal either
“Special Agent Morales asked for you,” he remarks.
I lift a brow, keeping my expression neutral. “Did he?”
Li remains unreadable. His black hair is covered in a light dusting of glitter, likely from one of the confetti canons on the dance floor. Dressed in couture from head to toe, delicate gold embroidery is sewn along the hem of his garnet red longline blazer. Without a shirt under it, the outfit is more sensual than formal and he’s wearing an obi-style belt around his waist, whose intricate design mimics the work done on his blazer. What Li doesn’t say with words, he manages to convey through his fashion choices. Opulent and lovely enough to conceal the threat of danger underneath. Because even though his pants are long and loose, I know the pockets are big and baggy enough to conceal a gun at all times.
“He says the two of you have a lot to catch up on.”
He wants to know whether or not I’m going to sell him out to the FBI because how I respond will determine my fate. Or at least that’s what he thinks. Li has a number of pieces in the game but I’m not one of them.
“Well, I should probably go see him then. But, before I do…”
I walk over to the table where I left my clutch. There’s nothing inside it save a Hermes scarf wrapped around a small, vintage pistol with a single bullet missing.
“Consider it a token of our friendship.”
I drop the clutch in his hand and his brows draw together. It takes him seconds to register the weight and size of the object in his grasp and not even Li can keep the look of surprise off his face when he realizes.
“We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to make amends,” I say. “Rian’s important to both of us. Best we get along. Don’t you think?”
His eyes narrow with a hint of suspicion but more than anything, I know my gesture caught him off guard. Li’s grip tightens around the clutch and he lowers his arm, bringing the weapon close to his chest, almost in fear of it being taken away. Without speaking he gives a subtle nod, and I know he’s accepted my olive branch.
Now to let the Trojan horse do its work.
I find Special Agent Morales at our usual spot by the bar. I slide onto the stool next to him and the bartender arrives to take my order. Morales doesn’t speak until there’s a boulevardier on the counter in front of me.
“How was it?”
“I’d have a harder time tempting a thief to steal.” I grab the Maraschino cherry in my drink by the stem before popping it into my mouth. “He didn’t check to see if it was the right gun.”
“He wouldn’t have, not in front of you. And when he does, he’ll find a perfect replica.”
I try turning to face him but he grabs the back of my seat and leans in as if to whisper something but really, he’s holding me in place. “If you move, you’ll be in plain view of the cameras. Don’t.”
One of the reasons Morales and I meet at The Empress, aside from the added benefit of putting Li on edge, is the ability to hide in plain sight. It’s why we sit at this specific corner of the bar, away from cameras or security guards. No one can hear or see a word we’re saying. Morales keeps his back to the crowd in case there are any lip readers around.
Meeting like this means there’s no paper trail. But it also means that the only two people who know the truth are sitting at this bar and if something goes wrong, we’re both exponentially fucked.
When Morales and I first crossed paths last year it wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a fling. Our short-lived affair ended when one night during pillow talk, he let a little too much slip and I figured out he was more than a thorn in Li Huang’s side. He was on a mission for revenge and I might’ve let him embark on his journey alone except I couldn’t. Not after learning that if Li Huang goes down, he could take all of Narvaez Enterprises with him.
About a year and a half ago, Morales’s partner Amy Walsh was undercover. During her pursuit of one criminal entity, she’d unintentionally gotten mixed up in Li’s drug business. When he found out, the confrontation turned deadly and he killed her with a single bullet through the forehead. What ensued afterward was chaos. Li was arrested but later released and his entire operation was put under the microscope. Suspects by association, Damiano and Rian came under scrutiny but the inquisition was short-lived. Despite having launched an in-depth investigation, the FBI couldn’t find the murder weapon and without it, their case against Li was nonexistent. Circumstantial evidence was all they had; if it could even be called that. What they needed was the smoking gun. Literally.
Morales checks the time on his phone and swears. He kills his drink in a single swig and yanks his coat on. “I have to go.”
“Without settling your tab?” I tease. He has a bad habit of always rushing out of places. Whether it’s his wallet, his gloves, or to pay a bill, he’s always forgetting something.
“Tell your boyfriend to cover it.” His tone drips with sarcasm. “He owes me one.”
Morales leaves in a hurry and almost bumps into Rian on his way out. Rian’s gaze flickers between me, sipping on a cocktail at the bar, and the FBI agent who just whizzed past him.
He approaches saying, “You look like you’re up to no good.”
“I always am.”
I tilt my head back to receive the kiss he gives me. “Want to get out of here?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I barely manage to unlock the front door of my house before Rian has his hands on me.
We stumble into the vestibule in the darkness, losing coats and gloves along the way. Halfway down the hall, I trip over one of the side tables and lose a heel. Rian catches me at the last minute but loses his balance and knocks over the vase of flowers. He swears under his breath and I laugh as I pull him up the stairs and into my bedroom.
My legs hit the back of the mattress and his hands roam across my body, igniting the blood in my veins. I tear through the buttons on his shirt and he kisses his way down the column of my neck before sinking his teeth into my flesh. A low, scooped neckline leaves the tops of my breasts exposed and he bites hard enough to bruise, running his thumb over my nipple until it hardens beneath the fabric of my dress.
He tosses me onto the mattress and I almost tell him to turn on the lamp because it’s practically pitch black in here. I don’t remember closing the curtains before I left but I don’t linger on the thought long.
There’s a soft, almost inaudible click . And then there’s gunfire.
Two gunshots in quick succession and Rian grunts, falling somewhere in the darkness as a scream leaves my lips. I scramble to the edge of my bed and turn on the lamp, ready to reach for the pistol I keep tucked under the left pillow?—
Someone’s sitting on the love seat by my window. The surprise pulls another strangled cry from my lips.
Alejandro tilts his head. Gesturing with his gun, he points toward where Rian once stood and asks very calmly, “Who is that?”
“ What the fuck are you doing in my house ! ”
“Tell him to get up,” he replies smoothly. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Alejandro—”
He rises from the love seat and in two long, rapid strides, eats up the distance between him and the bed. “Is this your little boyfriend? Lo voy a matar . Así que muévete antes de que nos dispare a los tres.”
“You are not killing anyone in my bedroom. Put the gun down!”
There’s shuffling behind me and the bed shifts under Rian’s weight. It all happens so quickly. I hear another click and know he’s taken the safety off his gun.
“No, stop it! Stop !”
I push Rian out of the way but Alejandro grabs my other wrist and yanks me off the bed. A split second passes and their gazes meet. Rian flinches and Alejandro’s eyes widen but he doesn’t lower his gun.
“Narvaez?” Rian says at the same exact moment Alejandro utters his name like a threat. “ O’Neil ?”
Rian looks at me. I look at Alejandro. He looks at the two of us. Three voices overlap at once.
“ You know each other? ”