Chapter Fourteen
Igor
“Joaquin was murdered last night.”
I look up from the documents spread across my desk to find Sergei striding into my office with a grim expression on his face. Disbelief washes over me.
“What?”
“I just got a call from the Mexican cartel. He was assassinated in his office last night.” Sergei steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “They found him around midnight with three shots in him—two to the chest, one to the head.”
For a long moment, I simply stare at him.
Death is common in our world, especially sudden, brutal death, because with every ally you make, you double your enemies.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but Joaquin Villalobos wasn’t just some street thug. He was the head of one of the largest cartels in Mexico. Men like him don’t just die overnight, especially when he’s always heavily guarded by security.
“What happened?”
Sergei shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”
I lean back in my chair, my mind immediately drifting to the meeting we had barely a day ago. Joaquin had looked me in the eye and sworn neither he nor his men were behind the attack, and even when I got the call and informed him it was traced back to his cartel, he still had doubts.
And now he’s dead.
I rub my temple as I try to gather my thoughts.
To find out the person behind this, we’d first have to figure out who’d benefit the most from Joaquin’s death.
Unless he’s a fool, no one would make such a bold move against the head of the cartel unless whatever he’s getting in return would be worth the possibility of getting killed.
So far, only one name comes to mind. “What’s Emiliano doing about his death?”
As second-in-command, it’s his job to find out who dared to kill Joaquin right under the cartel’s nose. If anyone’s going to find out what the hell happened to Joaquin, it’s him.
“He took over before sunrise. Word on the street says he’s behind it. But no one dares to question him now that he’s the head of the cartel.”
I rub my temple thoughtfully and connect the dots.
Joaquin mysteriously ends up dead. Instead of a burial and ruthless investigation, Emiliano takes over before Joaquin’s body is even cold.
Something’s not right.
I straighten my spine. “Fetch me everything you can on Emiliano. He’s far less friendly than Joaquin was. Plus, he seems to have a thirst for bloodshed. We need to know what he’s after.”
Sergei nods once and places a file on my desk. “I already did.”
I flip it open, my eyes moving over photographs, financial records, intercepted communications, and surveillance reports.
It turns out Emiliano has been meeting with the leaders of the Irish mafia and the Costa Nostra, both of which were Joaquin’s enemies, and mine by extension.
Everything makes sense as I piece the puzzle together.
The planned hit on the port on the same night I was expecting a shipment, the assassination attempt on me and Audrey, the raid at my club, and the fake documents pointing to Audrey as the enemy.
Meanwhile the real traitor was right under my nose…and Joaquin’s.
“That son of a bitch is behind everything,” Sergei says gruffly, his eyes red with fury.
I close the folder and toss it to the side. “He is.”
Sergei looks lost for a moment. “I don’t understand. If he wanted to take over the Mexican cartel, why the hell did he plan a hit on you?”
I already figured out the answer to that question.
“He was trying to drive a wedge between the bratva and Joaquin. That way he could kill his boss without looking like a shitty viper and gain an alliance with the bratva at the same time. It would’ve been a clean takeover on his end.
If luck was on his side, the bratva might’ve done the dirty work for him and handed him the throne on a platter. ”
But Emiliano is one unlucky bastard.
A venomous snake that deserves to be slain on sight. Joaquin is rolling in his grave with fury right now.
“What do we do?” Sergei asks. “We can’t let the rat run around thinking it won the cheese.”
I chuckle, but it’s dry and humorless. Beneath my calm exterior, an entire volcano is building inside me. I can’t believe I fell for the lies that piece of shit sent me about Audrey.
He raided my club.
Planned an attack on me.
And hurt my wife.
Surely, there’s no way the sick bastard thinks he’ll get away with all of that bullshit. I’ll let him run around for a while thinking he’s won. It’s the best way to handle a piece of shit like him.
Then, when he thinks he’s gotten everything he wanted, I’ll hit him right where it hurts and make sure he loses every single thing he has.
“We do nothing.”
Sergei gives me a disapproving look. “We can’t stand by and watch that dick destroy this city. Not after everything he’s done. He rules the Mexican cartel now. There’s no guarantee he won’t try to attack you again.”
A wicked smile tugs the corners of my lips.
“I’d like to see him try.” Shutting down my computer, I rise to my feet and start for the door. “Keep an eye on the Mexicans. Emiliano especially. Report his every move to me and tighten security around the club as well.”
“Yes, boss.”
I halt for a moment. “Have one of the guards secretly keep an eye on Audrey. If she leaves the mansion alone, have him follow her. But make sure she never finds out.”
He nods. “Has she done something suspicious?”
“No.” It’s less about being suspicious of her and more about keeping her safe. I know how stubborn she can get, and there’s no guarantee she won’t sneak out on her own again, especially when she gets tired of having her guards follow her everywhere. “Just do as I say.”
He nods again. “Where are you going?”
“To my wife.”
***
The mansion is quiet by the time I arrive.
I’ve grown used to hearing Audrey before I see her each time I get home.
She’s usually somewhere in the house bossing the maids around like she owns the place, arguing with the chef over something ridiculous, or trying to assemble a piece of furniture herself despite having a dozen men willing to do it for her.
But today, there’s nothing.
The silence sits heavily over the mansion, making the place feel unfamiliar.
I loosen my tie as I walk through the foyer, my thoughts drifting back over the last few days.
Ever since Audrey came to the club, things between us have been...different. I’ve kept my distance.
At the time, it seemed like the logical thing to do, considering the situation. Every piece of evidence pointed toward her, and I couldn’t allow my feelings to cloud my judgment. Not when my empire was at stake.
Still, every time I looked into her eyes while she insisted she knew nothing about the raid or the attack, a part of me wanted to believe her.
I simply wasn’t sure if I could trust her completely, but I was wrong for creating the gap for doubt to creep through.
It’s all his doing.
Emiliano.
The bastard manipulated everything from the shadows, carefully planting evidence that pointed straight at Audrey while he positioned himself to seize Joaquin’s empire. Every suspicious phone call. Every conveniently timed security breach. Every anonymous tip. The assassination attempt.
He’d wanted me to doubt my own wife.
And I’d done exactly what he expected.
The realization leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
On the drive home, I stopped at a florist.
The young woman behind the counter asked what occasion the flowers were for. I froze, not knowing what to answer.
It’s not our anniversary. I didn’t get a promotion at work, and we aren’t expecting a baby. And I’m apologizing to the woman I accused of destroying my empire wasn’t exactly something I could say out loud.
So I simply pointed at the bouquet of deep red roses she recommended and paid without another word.
The flowers feel oddly foreign in my hand now.
I’ve bought Audrey jewelry worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
A mansion.
Designer clothes.
None of those things made me half as nervous as carrying a bouquet of roses through my own front door.
Noticing she isn’t downstairs, I head straight for our bedroom. Just like I expected, she’s laying on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
Our eyes lock, but she doesn’t say a word to me. She only holds my gaze for a moment, then returns to whatever it is she was doing on her phone before I came in. Somehow, her ignoring my presence cuts deeper than words ever could.
The distance between us is unbearable, so I walk over to her and hold out the flowers. “These are for you.”
Her fingers pause on the screen. She glances up at me. “You’ve never given me flowers. What’s the special occasion?”
My jaw locks. She’s right; I’ve never given her flowers. And for the first time since we got married, I realized I haven’t even been doing the bare minimum for my wife.
I could afford a thousand gardens filled with roses, lilies, sunflowers, and whatever other beautiful plants exist. But I’d never thought of this simple gesture until now.
“I’m sorry.”
Her brow arches. “I’m confused. What are you sorry for?”
“You said you had nothing to do with everything that happened, and I didn’t believe you. I didn’t trust you, and I thought that upset you. It’s why I got you the flowers.”
Her eyes flit from my face to the bouquet of roses in my hand. She remains silent for a second, peering at me in confusion. “And you believe me now?”
“I do.”
“What changed?”
I sigh. “Joaquin was murdered last night.”
She blinks at me, seeming completely lost. “Joaquin? You mean the Mexican who was at the club on the night of the opening?”
“Yes. That Joaquin.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “That’s…sad. But I’m struggling to see what that has to do with me being innocent. Did he confess he did it before he died or something?”
I shake my head. “It turns out his second-in-command was behind it.”
Panic flashes across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. “What’s his name? The second-in-command, I mean.”
I’m surprised she’s asking, but I answer anyway. “Emiliano. Do you know him?”
“I don’t think so,” she says.
“I know. I’m sorry for everything.”