Chapter 8
F allon
“Secrets and lies have a way of coming back to bite you no matter how far and how fast you run.”
His words lingered in my mind. He was right, so much so my skin was crawling. He knew I was keeping something from him.
Navarro hadn’t committed the heinous crime I’d accused him of.
The sexy Spaniard with a wicked accent and dazzling eyes hadn’t kidnapped my sister. I doubt he’d had anything to do with my father’s disappearance either.
Now I was completely confused. What I’d discovered in my father’s home after he’d disappeared in the dark of the night had been damning.
To say the least. To learn more details about a past life I’d tried so hard to forget, including more about the role my father had played in a dangerous regime had been bad enough.
But there’d been more, details that I’d pieced together.
That he’d been at least partially responsible for dozens if not hundreds of deaths had been horrifying. His double life had finally come back to haunt his children in his wake.
I’d spent one full night searching through his things, finding hiding places I hadn’t known existed in the house. That included information he’d left for me specifically.
Bank accounts.
A will.
Deeds to property in Barcelona.
A name of an attorney to call in case of his death.
It had all been too much for my fractured mind. I’d lain in a ball for hours as the memories had surfaced.
Up to that point, they’d been few and far between, some including Navarro. Only he’d been different twenty years before, a boy, not a man. He’d seemed so regal, so honorable.
And so caring.
The basis for my dark-haired hero in my personal fairytale, a story Brooke had heard ad nauseam .
While the paths we’d crossed had been brief, for a young girl they’d been more memorable than almost anything else.
How strange. How sad. A beautiful summer day.
A festive party. A stupid girl determined to catch and save a furry creature.
When I’d tripped over some rocks, a sharp stick driven into my leg, he’d carried me back to my house in his arms. While I’d been crying, clinging to him as I wept.
There had been more, yet the shadows of why he’d been so angry haunted me.
What I did remember was that we’d both lived in glass houses made from greed and power. Even a child could feel the danger. Only I’d been more worried about monsters lurking underneath my bed and not from those considered friends and family.
Another series of fleeting images crisscrossed my mind and I almost doubled over.
Navarro was lost in the photograph I’d handed him as if experiencing terrible memories of his own, but I could read people. He was an innocent man.
Of this crime anyway.
My emotions were all over the place. During a time when most children were playing with dolls or watching their favorite cartoons, I’d overheard horrible conversations including details about my mother’s death.
Correction, her murder.
My father had tried to soften the horrible crime, acting as if she’d had an accident. The whispers in the house from soldiers and employees had told me otherwise.
But I’d heard him rage, screaming that Navarro and the Torres family had slaughtered my mama. I hadn’t understood anything until much later in life. By then, he’d stopped talking about my mother or what had occurred. He’d set aside every picture.
As if she hadn’t existed. I’d hated him for it. I’d ignored him, turning inward and leaving his home as soon as I was legally allowed. That had left Brooke to care for him and to take his bullshit. Maybe all the guilt I’d felt over the years had fueled this insanity.
The notion that time healed all wounds was wrong, very wrong. However, trauma and time had placed a thick wall between reality and nightmares, memories fading because my mind had needed an escape. Our new life had brought some peace, some sense of normalcy.
Seeing the photograph and reading the documentation my father had kept secret had brought enough back I’d formed a certainty and hatred for Navarro.
The chance I’d been wrong was increasing. My nerves were frayed. My pulse skyrocketing.
I’d wanted him to be the bastard who’d come back to finish what had been started. I’d all but foamed at the mouth thinking I’d managed to break through his security and his defenses, but I’d been wrong.
What happened to women who accused a reprehensible, merciless killer of an act he hadn’t committed? Somehow, I doubted we’d be sharing another intimate moment together. Maybe he’d toss me in a large body of water and fill it with piranhas.
The images were bloodier than any horror flick I’d seen. But much more realistic.
For several days I’d been concentrating on envisioning a dozen ways in which I could kill the man. From spiking his drink with arsenic to using piano wire and wrapping it around his neck. I’d gotten creative and would pretend to be a part of his landscaping crew and use a weed eater.
But as soon as I’d reminded myself I wasn’t into blood and gore, I’d scratched the idea off my list. I’d written several ideas on paper. I could only imagine what the police would think if they broke into my house since I’d left it in plain sight.
At least I’d been left a trophy by the bastard who’d taken my sister.
It had been done so on purpose. Using it to end Navarro’s life had seemed perfect.
I’d talked with the police. They hadn’t given a damn.
Just another girl lost in a city full of creeps and criminals.
When I’d finally pulled myself up from the wretched haze, I’d booked a flight to Mexico City.
How many times since I’d found the photo in some of my father’s things had I looked at the picture?
He’d been sent the photograph. I’d found the envelope on his desk.
Block lettering. I’d memorized every detail, every line in Navarro’s face and the way he smiled.
I’d called him evil and had dreams of how I’d kill him.
As I studied his face as he stared at the photograph the exact way I’d done, I realized it was possible I’d been lured into a trap.
I’d been so consumed that by the time I’d boarded the flight, I’d been wired for sound.
Now, as I stood here in the ugly space after the man had saved my life once and had likely kept me from injuring myself from an accidental fall, I realized I’d been a fool.
Navarro wasn’t responsible for my sister’s kidnapping.
Yet he was involved based on his past like I was because of mine.
Could I trust him enough to tell him who I was?
I folded my arms, shivering from the thought alone. Not yet. He was no longer the boy who’d saved me.
My head was throbbing just thinking about the possibilities.
Unmoving, he stared at the picture unblinking for a full minute. When he lifted his head, the expression of rage on his face matched the way I’d felt. “Where did you get this? Do not lie to me, Fallon.”
“I found it in some of my father’s things when I went to talk to him.”
“And?”
“He wasn’t there. Someone sent him the photo in the mail.”
Navarro looked away briefly, obviously trying to control his anger. “Just who is your father?”
“A man who lost his conscience.” I wasn’t entirely certain what my father had gotten into or if he was just another victim, but I refused to tell Navarro every detail just yet.
I also had no intention of reminding him of our past. One thing I had learned a long time before was never to play my hand until the last minute. That’s how poker games were won.
His eyes narrowed, but he continued to stare at me. I sensed he was doing his best to control his anger. The thick cords on the side of his neck pulsed and his jaw was clenched.
“Name.”
I felt more uncomfortable than before. “Why do you need to know?”
“Because I do, Fallon. Do not cross me. You won’t like the results.”
“And I don’t like being threatened. I’ve had enough of that in my life.
” Shit. I wasn’t known for being able to keep a secret.
Lies were even worse. As soon as the words left my mouth, I noticed just how intense the man had gotten.
“Charles Baldwin.” In my mind, I was screaming that wasn’t his real name. Fallon Baldwin wasn’t mine.
I was fucking cartel royalty. Had I known that to be the truth? Of course not. I’d been a good girl my entire life.
“Sit down and tell me everything.”
As he’d done before, he commanded instead of asking.
There was no recourse and nowhere else to turn.
It felt as if I’d been lured to Mexico for the sole intent of getting close to Navarro.
Maybe the intention had been for me to find the photograph.
Or simply to find an opening for someone, thereby placing a target on Navarro.
There were notes written in my father’s handwriting as if he’d meant for me to find them just in case I hadn’t searched until I’d found his hidden compartment.
Maybe he’d fled to keep from being killed.
So why not tell me? I felt like such a fool, but there hadn’t been another choice.
My sister’s life was at stake and if no one else would, I’d be her champion.
I moved toward the couch, sitting down carefully. The adrenaline had finally started to wear off because my hands were shaking.
He took his time easing into the chair only inches away. Leaning forward, he placed the picture on the coffee table. “Don’t leave anything out, Fallon, because I will know and that will anger me. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
His nod indicated he believed me. There seemed to be no other option than leveling with him. Nothing had gone according to the crazy plans I’d concocted. “Do you live in Los Angeles?”
“Santa Barbara.”
“What do you do in Santa Barbara?”
“What does it matter what I do?”