Chapter 26
N avarro
Coming home to my house in Barcelona usually meant nothing more than limited downtime.
I’d selected the house from a picture, visiting the location for ten minutes before deciding to purchase it.
While it was private, a picturesque contemporary nestled on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, I’d barely spent enough time to formulate a decorating plan.
As if I’d cared.
Four walls and a roof were all that was important, at least according to my father. As I stood staring out the window at the turbulent ocean waters, I was struck by how entirely different it felt now that two women were in my house.
While Fallon remained a challenge, defiant at every turn and during every conversation, Brooke was a calming force. Much like Maya had been over the years. Their interactions were another reminder that family was important if not vital for anyone in a leadership position.
Criminal or not.
I turned away from the window, staring down at the photograph I had in my hand.
The beautiful thing about pictures was that they not only told a story, but they also never lied. Of course it was possible to doctor photographs as had been done for years, now more easily accomplished with the AI coming online for mainstream users.
However, when you had an old photograph in your hand, one that had been stored in a box for two decades, the logistics allowed you some certainty and comfort that what you were seeing was real.
Maybe I’d become homesick, longing for the good feelings only memories could provide. For whatever reason I’d tugged out one of a few boxes of personal items I’d collected from my parents’ estate, and I’d spent hours reminiscing over events filled with both joy and sadness.
A flash of lightning drew my attention to the oversized window. The storm had come on all of a sudden, a beautiful afternoon giving way to a downpour. At least the storm itself matched my mood.
Dark and unforgiving.
The reason I’d decided to go down memory lane was simple.
Because of Fallon. Because of her love for her family, her sister all she’d been able to think about for three days.
While I’d mostly gone on as business as usual, checking on shipments, including a new crop of diamonds that had arrived from Australia, she’d planted herself at her sister’s bedside.
Without asking me for anything.
I’d provided everything she’d needed, but we were still on rocky ground. There was no trust. Not that I blamed her.
At this point, trust was difficult for both of us, but sentiment was more about the past and not what was happening under my own roof.
I took a sip of my drink and picked up one of the photographs, easing them under the light of the single lamp I’d turned on. I preferred the darkness anyway, night being when I usually did my most critical thinking.
Only on this night, something was nagging at me.
I’d lamented over pictures taken with Lucian and me. In every photo we’d had huge smiles, as if we didn’t have a care in the world. But the one I was holding right now was more perplexing. Maybe I hadn’t found this one in particular before or simply hadn’t paid close attention.
There were several men in the picture sitting at a round table.
Rafael Torres, both Salvatore and Valentino Aldero, and two other men with their backs turned to the camera.
It was conceivable the two were cartel leaders of a smaller organization such as Genevieve’s father, Julio Morales.
He’d been around then, only not nearly as powerful.
The Morales Empire had only come into power after the Aldero Empire had been all but decimated. Rafael had cleaned the streets with the man’s employees, claiming the dead leader’s territory.
The city had erupted in turmoil, law-abiding citizens also paying the price. After that, a crackdown of criminal activities had altered the landscape of Barcelona. Suddenly, more legitimate operations had been sought. That forced a change in the Torres organization that expanded over the years.
It had been a wild time and for a young boy just getting his feet wet, I’d loved every fucking second of running the streets with Jago, then also with Kruz.
The good old days.
Another flash of lightning drew my attention once again.
What the fuck were we missing?
My instinct told me Fallon’s father had risked the safety and the lives of both daughters, yet I had a feeling it was for an entirely different reason than Fallon believed.
I tossed the photograph onto the table and moved toward the window, mesmerized by the display of natural power. There were many missing pieces, yet one thing remained certain.
Fassi needed to die. There was no other choice.
There were dozens of ways to make a man suffer. I excelled at many of them.
The use of various traditional weapons was of course the easiest method of ending a man’s life. However, it took skill to use whatever was handy, ordinary items that moral people would never consider using.
Saws.
Drills.
Sledgehammers.
Piano wire.
The reason I was fixating on my skills? The rage that continued to regurgitate itself. Heading to Mexico had been nothing but a wild goose chase, a tactical turn for whoever was pulling the strings. Why? So I’d be paired with Fallon?
There had to be easier methods, although I couldn’t think of them. We were worlds apart and not only in mileage. Would she have traveled to Spain if she’d thought her sister had been brought here? Maybe, but the logistics would have been a huge obstacle.
Now all I could think about was the pain I wanted to inflict on Farid Fassi and his Moroccan goons. I paced the floor, doing what I could to put the pieces together. Why had Jamal Fassi been so intent on destroying the Torres family?
When the snake had reared his ugly head, I’d bought that he was simply another drug lord wanting to eliminate the competition, using diamonds as a way of positioning a red carpet down for his arrival.
But my gut had been churning since he’d slithered from his viper’s den a second time, almost ending Kruz’s life.
Now his son had his sights set on me, using the bad framing job to lure the Brain out in the open. From what Fallon had told me, she’d believed her father had run like a coward. I had a feeling he’d done so to try to keep his daughters protected.
From the danger, the truth, the past, or all three?
Maybe when and if I determined which one, I’d have a better understanding of Farid’s determined vendetta.
I pulled the glass to my lips, taking a deep breath while doing so. Bringing Fallon into my house and my world had changed everything. How? She was everywhere and nowhere, ignoring me as much as possible. She’d barely spoken to me, spending all her time nursing her sister back to health.
Was I jealous? Maybe. What kind of man did that make me when I was envious of a half-dead woman? I rolled the glass across my eyes, ignoring the ache.
Not just in my head and groin, but also in my heart. I’d never felt such a need to protect as I had the moment I’d closed the front door. It was no secret we were back in Spain. By now, Fassi knew we’d left Mexico.
With the goddamn formula intact.
If that’s what he really wanted, he would eventually make another appearance. We had to be ready, or the cat and mouse game would continue. And I for one was sick to death of playing by his rules.
I sensed her presence the moment she walked into the room, the crackle of electricity scouring every nerve ending. I remained where I was, curious as to what she would say or do.
“I heard you won my sister over.” Fallon’s comment was difficult to read.
“How so?”
“She thinks you’re the cat’s meow. I told her the jury was still out.”
My muscles tensed, my balls tightening. “Oh, it is, huh?”
“Yes, but whatever you said to her convinced her that you’re a good guy.”
“I’m certain you told her otherwise.”
She sighed on purpose. “I told her a lot of things. So here’s the thing. I think we should get married.”
I almost dropped the glass I was holding. Fallon’s voice was strong, crystal clear, and without hesitation. I turned around slowly, studying her in the limited light. Night had fallen, another day spent with the two of us in silence.
I’d spent more time watching her taking her sister for a short walk on the beach than going over details of what I knew and suspected.
Also in silence.
Now she was interested in getting married, making the announcement like another business deal. “What did you say?” How could I not have a grin on my face? The woman continually shocked the hell out of me.
She walked in or perhaps I should say she waltzed in, the air of confidence exactly as the night in the club. The night when I’d become determined to break her. It was interesting how things worked out. Perhaps she was the one doing the breaking.
As she headed for the bar, I remained quiet, cocking my head over my shoulder to watch her every move.
There was nothing more pleasurable than observing her.
She hadn’t realized it, but I’d also watched her paint, standing in the shadows the only time she’d left Brooke’s side and heading outdoors in the late afternoon sun.
Everything about her was sensual, including the way her long fingers gripped the paintbrush or when they moved to shove a piece of hair behind her ear. I’d felt more fulfilled in watching her work than I had being with any other woman.
I’d salivated the entire time, indulging in filthy images.
She didn’t answer me at first, taking her time to prepare a stiff drink, stiffer than I’d seen her make. After spinning around, she leaned against the bar with her ankles crossed, one hand on the edge of the credenza. “A wild storm,” she finally said.
“Yes, potentially dangerous.”
“Not nearly as dangerous as being around such a powerful man.” She purred at the end of the sentence.
“Only to those who cross me.”