24. Neither Guilty Nor Innocent
24
NEITHER GUILTY NOR INNOCENT
Alejandro
The Past
December
T he sound of an opening door echoes across the otherwise empty basilica.
Candlelight flickers across the nativity scene on display and the empty manger reminds patrons of Christ’s eminent birth. Otherwise, statues of the Three Kings, the Virgin Mary, and her husband Joseph fill the stable. Real straw lines the bottom and holly and garland are scattered atop the roof. Few things on earth come close in splendor and majesty to a Catholic Christmas. My sense of faith hasn’t been as strong in recent years but the cruelty of the world hasn’t beat the wonder and awe out of me yet.
A woman reaches the end of the aisle and genuflects before the sanctuary. I don’t turn to look at her but I recognize Regina’s veil and the scent of her perfume—sharp and visceral, unearthing decade old memories I once thought long forgotten.
She lowers herself into the seat beside me and doesn’t speak.
“Thank you…for being so punctual.”
She squeezes her hands tight in her lap before releasing them. Regina raises her chin and lifts the veil from her face. “I only came for Sandro.”
“Yes, you were always a devoted sister that way.”
“Please. I’m begging you,” she pleads quietly. “If you ever cared about me, if you ever loved me… stop . Sandro’s ready to call a truce.”
“A truce? After only four months? I’ve only just begun.”
“You have my word. He’ll never go after Dahlia again?—”
“So he admits it.” I turn in my seat, interrupting her. “He set the fire in the lounge.”
She presses her lips together.
I change tactics. “How’s your sister?”
A beat passes before she finds her voice. “Monse’s fine.”
“With your brother, I assume? She was always unfailingly loyal to him. In fact, isn’t she the one who told Sandro about us?” I ask. “She’s the reason he showed up at our wedding…in this very basilica.”
“I didn’t come here to reminisce, Alejandro. You’ve made your point. Almost all our capos are either dead or have turned against us. No one wants to do business with us and the SVA has intercepted every last one of our shipments since September.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you’re doing it but we are a breath away from collapse.”
“Then go legitimate.”
“We can’t . You know we can’t. He’s taken out loans against the business to try to keep everything else afloat. If we try to go legitimate now, it could bankrupt the investment firm. Not to mention leave us and our territory vulnerable.”
“Sandro should’ve thought of that before he put a target on Dahlia’s back,” I inform her. “I’m not stopping. And I won’t until there’s nothing left of him. If I were you, I’d grab my sister and run back to Corsica. Cut my losses and try to live out the rest of my days in peace.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“Fine. You can stay here and suffer the consequences… Montserrat .”
The color drains from her face.
She bolts to her feet but I catch her by the back of the neck. Removing the syringe from my pocket, I ease the needle into the first pulsing vein I see. I cover her mouth and she screams against my palm, clawing against my arm until she’s eventually released. Montserrat rushes out of the pew and onto the church aisle but the sedative she’s been given is powerful. She barely makes it five steps before she starts to lose balance.
“Do you remember the Christmas we all spent together in London when Regina and I were still in university?” I tuck the used syringe into my pocket. “It was when she first introduced us to each other.”
Montserrat stumbles and catches herself on a nearby pew. The veil falls from where it’s pinned into her silky hair and tumbles to the ground.
“I used my key to get into her flat—I must’ve been carrying a dozen bags from Sainsbury’s—and dropped them on the table where she was sitting. I’ll never forget it, I bent down, kissed her, and said, is your sister here yet? ”
Montserrat makes a last-ditch attempt for the door but she’s too far and the aisle is too long. I catch her by the upper arm and she spins around, attempting to throw a punch in my direction but the hit never lands.
“When all of a sudden, the doors to the kitchen open and Regina walks in…but Regina was supposed to be sitting at the table. Only, it wasn’t her. It was you .”
She struggles in my grasp but the fight is leaving her quickly. “Let…go…”
“Regina never told me she had a twin sister,” I say. “And since then, I made a promise to myself. I would never confuse the two of you again.”
Montserrat grabs the front of my coat but her grip is weak as her body becomes malleable in my grasp.
“Close your eyes, Monse. I promise it won’t hurt.”
“ I don’t want anyone to lay a hand on her. Anyone . Understood?”
Dimitrio nods. “Don’t worry. It’s taken care of.”
“Make sure she’s comfortable. Monse’s free to roam around but never without a chaperone. She isn’t a clueless American in a foreign country—it’ll be a lot more difficult to keep her under control than Dahlia.”
He lifts a brow at me. “I wouldn’t exactly call how you handled Dahlia last summer ‘keeping her under control’.”
We enter the kitchen and before I can say anything else, I notice Lyss sitting on one of the island stools. I give my best smile. “Brosnan.”
She doesn’t look up from her textbook. “Narvaez.”
“I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Really?” She scribbles something in her notebook before picking up a highlighter. “Because I don’t.”
Dimitrio snorts but makes an effort to conceal his laughter by clearing his throat.
Personally, I don’t have any objections to Lyss, and when Dahlia started bringing her around, I had Diego look into her. Alyssa Brosnan-Rinaldi, twenty-three-years-old, born in Queens to an Irish father and first-generation Italian-American mother, top of her class at Fordham and on track to becoming valedictorian if she can manage to raise her GPA by half a point this semester. Formerly of Stanford University, she moved back to New York after her father’s dementia diagnosis and has since been helping to keep her family afloat with a series of temp jobs in the city, none of which pay very well and whose tenure never surpasses six months.
Dahlia needed a friend of her own, someone who wasn’t related to me or paid to watch over her. I don’t even mind that Lyss knows we have a “family business.” If Lyss can be the confidant and support Dahlia needs to find long-term happiness here, then I’ll accept her presence with delight, even if she does hate me. Somehow, it makes me respect her more.
Outside, Dahlia paces the length of the pool with her phone pressed against her ear. It looks like she was in the middle of making dinner because there’s rice on the stove and a bowl of chicken breasts on the counter that haven’t been seasoned yet. We must’ve arrived toward the end of her conversation because a few seconds later she hangs up and returns inside.
Lyss must be appraised of what’s going on because her spine straightens and her brows furrow with concern. “What did she say?”
I might not have cared to listen in on their conversation—Dahlia and Lyss tend to get lost in their gossiping sessions for hours—but the stricken look on Dahlia’s face sends alarm bells ringing. She approaches the island and I pull out one of the bar stools for her to sit. It takes her a few moments to find the words.
“Karina’s parents are getting divorced.”
Lyss gasps. “Paula and Rogelio?”
“Yes…” She lifts a hand to the side of her face. “He…my uncle. He was cheating on her.”
“Oh Dee.” Lyss reaches out to touch Dahlia’s arm. “How’s Karina holding up?”
“Devastated, obviously. She was supposed to come here and spend Christmas with us after her ballet show but…”
A phone rings and instinctively I reach for the one in my pocket but Dimitrio lifts a hand, signaling that it’s his. He walks away to answer the call and I take it as an opportunity to focus on Dahlia.
“What else did she say?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just that she isn’t planning on coming anymore. Apparently, she’s known for a few weeks but waited to tell me until Tia Paula figured out what she wanted to do.”
“That’s understandable.”
She nods in response. “I know. I know it is. But I still feel awful. All this time I could’ve been there for her. Had I known earlier, I would’ve gone home.”
“When did everything happen?”
“Before Thanksgiving, right around Lettie’s birthday.”
“Alex?”
I look over and Dimitrio’s in the entryway, signaling for me to join him. And I might’ve if not for the look Lyss gives me, pinning me in place.
“Sorry, is my friend’s distress interrupting you?” she remarks.
Dahlia startles and turns to me. “What?”
“Nothing.” I kiss her forehead. “Ignore carrot top over there.”
Her nose scrunches up. “I’m a brunette .”
Dahlia responds despondently, “Your hair is auburn.”
“Look, Dimitrio and I have something important to take care of but why don’t I call Diego and see if we can fly out earlier. Hm?” I caress her cheek. “Your last final is tomorrow morning. We can leave in the afternoon and spend a few days with Karina before her show and be back by Christmas Eve.”
She gives a light shrug. “I don’t know.”
“It’s whatever you want.” I kiss her quickly. “Just let me know. You can tell Merida to come with us too.”
“First of all, I’m half-Irish, not Scottish . Imbecile.”
I tap her nose as I pass. “Whatever you say.”
With pursed lips, Lyss gets up from where she’s seated. Crosses the distance between the kitchen island and the counter, and stops where my KitchenAid is plugged in. She yanks on the black chord until it pops out the electrical socket and slowly crosses the kitchen, dragging the appliance across the counter with her.
Dahlia sighs, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “Alyssa… don’t .”
I practically trip over my feet trying to catch it in time. It dangles over the edge of the counter and Lyss releases the wire before returning to her seat.
“ Alejandro ,” Dimitrio grabs my shoulder. “Come on.”
I put the KitchenAid back in place, plug it into the wall, and Lyss and I don’t stop glaring at each other until Dimitrio drags me out of the room.
Lyss’s voice follows us on the way out. “What do you even see in that guy…”
Dimitrio and I head upstairs to my office. On cue, the landline rings and Dimitrio closes the door behind us while I approach my desk and answer the call.
“Do they know?” I ask.
“Not yet,” Ferrer replies. “Sandro thinks Monse’s run off again but Regina’s concerned. Apparently, her sister left her phone and wallet behind and Regina noticed a missing outfit from her closet.”
I set the phone down on the table and hit speaker. “Give it a few hours. By nightfall, pull Sandro and Regina aside. Do you know what you’re going to tell them?”
“What we rehearsed. I have someone on the inside who informed me there’s a woman the Narvaez family is trying to keep hidden. And as of today, she has her own security detail.”
“Do you think we should add anything?” Dimitrio asks.
I consider as much and eventually decide against it. “No. Too many details and it’ll look suspicious.”
“Is there anything else I should tell them?” Ferrer asks over the phone.
Nothing comes to mind and I look to Dimitrio for his input.
“Don’t elaborate. Make it clear you’re relaying to them everything you know, word for word. Regina might try to force more information out of you but you have to make it seem as if there isn’t any more information to share.” Dimitrio instructs. “Call us when it’s done and we’ll go from there.”
“I’ll want to know if either of them is planning a retaliation,” I say. “I doubt Sandro will; he’s too vulnerable right now and knows I won’t actually hurt Monse. Regina, on the other hand…”
Ferrer speaks with an emotion I find difficult to identify over the phone. “Yes…so I’ve noticed.”
We end the call and Dimitrio sinks back in his seat with a sigh. “Sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I always do.”
The last few months of planning have all led up to this. Little by little, I’ve chipped away at what Sandro treasures most. It’s always been about power, money, and influence for him. Without his capos and his footmen, he has no power. Without his drug business he has no money and with his legitimate enterprises sinking under crippling debt, he’s losing influence. Soon, he won’t be able to keep control of his own territory and his rivals will pick apart at what he’s left behind. One day, he'll be surrounded by enemies with no way out. And I could’ve stopped there.
However, snatching Monse was personal.
I have no intention of hurting Montserrat—I’m incapable of it. Although we’re the same age, she always reminded me of Lettie and as the younger twin, I followed Regina’s lead and treated her like a little sister. Despite my fondness for her, I wasn’t going to let Sandro’s assassination attempt on Dahlia go unanswered.
He won’t retaliate because in doing so it would make him vulnerable. He doesn’t have the manpower to spare and if he went to the twelve families, he could be implicating himself. Sure, I’d land in hot water for taking Montserrat but the second the other families ask me why I did it, I won’t hesitate to tell them the whole truth. At which point, Sandro will lose the very few allies he has left…if any. Which means Sandro will spend the next few weeks agonizing over where Montserrat is, if she’s okay, and what I have planned for her. Not to mention that Regina will make every second of his life a living hell until he gets her sister back.
Regina isn’t completely innocent but I wouldn’t consider her guilty either. More like collateral damage I’m very happy to see get caught in the crossfire.
“I’m assuming Dahlia can’t find out.”
I sit back in my seat and rub my jaw. With all the grinding I’ve been doing lately, it’s a miracle the tension hasn’t cracked any of my molars. “No…she can’t.”
“Have you thought of how you’re going to swing that?” Dimitrio fixes me with a look. “For one, she’s going to notice half the security detail is gone.”
“And we were supposed to spend New Year’s at the villa with Abuelo. I told my grandfather we had a change in plans but I didn’t tell Dahlia.”
“Tell her we’re going to Vallvidrera instead. She won’t be suspicious.”
“She’s more intuitive than you give her credit for.” I remark. “And my grandfather isn’t exactly subtle. To be honest, I don’t think I want them in the same room together. At least not until all of this is settled. Abuelo isn’t above using Dahlia to sway my opinion and I’d like to avoid a confrontation like that at all costs.”
“Hm,” Dimitrio considers this a moment. “So you’ll spend the holidays here?”
“We could always extend our stay in New York. I might’ve had a hard time convincing her before when Dahlia had her heart set on spending our first Christmas in the new house.” I get up and finally remove my coat and suit jacket desperate to rid myself of all these heavy winter layers. “But Karina’s parents are separating and I know Dahlia will want to be there for her.”
My cousin studies me a moment. “That seems a little manipulative. Doesn’t it?”
I unholster my gun and drop it on the desk. “And so what if it is?”
“If Dahlia finds out?—”
“Dahlia’s never going to find out,” I fire back. “And if she ever does…then so be it.”