26. Ares
Ares
Lourdes and I greet Elani in the salon, watering indoor plants.
She asks what we would like for breakfast and also what she could pack for our boat trip.
My phone beeps repeatedly with incoming texts during the exchange, and it’s hard not to grumble.
I mute my cell, but my phone continues to vibrate with more incoming messages.
I suspect Daria has urgent news about David. Lourdes strikes up a conversation with Elani, so I step onto one of the terraces to call Daria.
“Have you located Sinclair?” I ask when she picks up.
“The tag suggests he’s driving around hunting your assassin, Quinlan.”
“How soon until Sinclair figures out his address?” I ask.
“Quinlan’s phone security is iron,” she says. “He’s been carrying out hits for his cousin for nearly two years. The guy knows how to blend in and lay low.”
If this wasn’t any six-feet-four-inch killer with an Irish brogue and a man-bun, I’d agree.
“Do we warn him?” Daria asks.
“No. Not until it’s eminent.” I take a breath. “If that’s all, I have to call Atlas with this development.”
“I await your further instructions,” she says, and the line goes dead.
I video-call Atlas next and give him an update on Sinclair. “We need to put Quinlan Empire on notice.”
“I told you we should have hired a contract killer,” Atlas says, challenging me.
“David Sinclair is a contract killer. I couldn’t risk contacting someone who might be an ally, who would have given him a heads-up and next, Lourdes is gone.”
I wonder if David figures out Rhys Quinlan is a mob assassin and not some random punk that I dragged in off the street to kill him, would he back down?
I shake my head. Men like Sinclair don’t retreat. That’s the problem with insecure men.
“I need to warn you, killing David might lead us into a war with the Bratva.” I brace for the argument I know my brother will make.
“Excuse me?” He sounds rightfully concerned.
Until now, Atlas thought David was some lone-wolf hitman married to a woman I wanted. It’s time for me to explain everything to him, if I’m putting my family at risk.
“Lourdes’s father worked for Yuri Volkov in Chicago.
Then he died in a car accident.” I glance over my shoulder to see if she’s still with my house manager.
“Sinclair told me in the club that night that he thinks her father stole money from the Volkovs. Sinclair works for some middleman, but it’s really the fucking Bratva who wants Lourdes. ”
“Jesus, Ares.” He sounds pissed. All we went through with the Irish is coming back to him. “Is this woman worth a war with Kirill?”
No one is taking Lourdes away from me.
“Every new pakhan inaugurates his reign with lockdowns, followed by a bloodbath. We have to hope that Yuri dies soon and Kirill will be distracted and no longer care about getting revenge for what Lourdes’s father may or may not have stolen from them.”
“That’s a hell of a gamble,” Atlas says with an exhale. “I don’t need to remind you that most of our fighters were killed with Alexander.”
A force we never replaced since I made peace with Griffin Quinlan.
“I know it well.”
I look toward the open terrace doors, and Lourdes is done talking to Elani. She’s now lingering on the opposite terrace. Her sundress billows against the soft wind coming in off the sea. Then she disappears back into the house, and I lose track of her.
Alexander would have liked her. But I don’t want to think of past wars. I need to deal with the war going on in my head, my heart. And between my legs.
“What’s so special about this woman, Ares?” my brother asks, pulling me back into the conversation with him.
“This one is different,” I say softly. “This one can destroy me.”