ALESSIO #3
Charly lets out a humorless laugh. "I'm in fucking Puerto Vallarta."
That surprises me. "Mexico?"
"Yeah. They went on a family vacation. I had to race home, throw clothes in a bag, grab my passport, and catch the next flight."
"Where are they now?"
"No clue. Somewhere in Puerto Vallarta." Frustration bleeds through every word. "Now I've got to figure out which damn hotel they're staying in."
"I'll take care of that."
Silence.
"You can?"
"I know people. Give me a few minutes." I lean against the wall. "You're positive it's her?"
"So help me God, Alessio..." His voice softens. "I'm positive."
For several seconds neither of us speaks.
"So..." I finally say. "All this time... She's been hiding in suburbia?"
Charly sighs. "Looks that way."
"No." I shake my head. "That doesn't make sense."
"None of it does right now."
"If she'd escaped..." I theorize, "If she'd gotten away... why the hell wouldn't she call Beccs?"
The silence that follows is answer enough.
Finally, Charly speaks. "That's the question, isn't it?"
I push away from the wall and start pacing again. "There has to be more to it."
"There usually is."
"I can’t believe she'd disappear for four years without a reason."
"I don’t want to believe that either." Charly sounds tired.
"But until we know..."
"We don't know."
I glance toward the bedroom again. Toward the woman sleeping peacefully.
"I'll stay down here a few days," Charly says. "People make friends on vacation. Especially Americans in another country. I'll bump into them. Start talking. See what I can learn."
"Good."
"I'll keep you posted." After another second, he adds, "And Alessio?"
"Yeah?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
"So do I."
"What are you thinking?"
I look back toward the bedroom. Determination bleeds through my words. "This isn't going to hurt Beccs."
"No?"
I slowly shake my head. "No. It's going to hurt Rachel."
Charly lets out a long breath. "I've been thinking the same thing."
"I'll wire you more money."
"That's not necessary."
"It is."
"Alessio—"
"I insist."
He chuckles quietly. "I'll call when I know something."
"You'd better."
The line goes dead. I don't waste another second and call Valentina.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Alessio?"
"I need the name of a hotel."
A keyboard immediately starts clacking in the background. "Who am I looking for?"
"Rachel and Jack Abercombe. They're in Puerto Vallarta. I need to know exactly where they're staying."
Valentina doesn't ask why. She never does. Instead, she replies with four words I never get tired of hearing. "I'll call you back."
I close my eyes. Beccs chose me over her sister…
I look at the clock… last night. Somehow...
that terrifies me more than the Collector ever could.
Eight hours. Beccs has been asleep for eight straight hours.
Not once have I considered waking her. Every twenty or thirty minutes I quietly crack the bedroom door open, just enough to watch her breathe.
Old habits. No. New habits. Eight hours ago, I'd have called them distractions. Now... I call them priorities. She stirs once, mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like rich spoiled asshole, then buries her face deeper into my pillow.
I smile despite myself. She's fine. Good.
Quietly, I close the door behind me and walk into my office.
The city stretches beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows; Vegas looks like any other metropolis during the day.
Nothing fancy, nothing special. But at night.
At night it's a whole different ballgame.
Funny how a city can keep breathing while your world almost stopped.
I lower myself into the leather chair, careful of my ribs, and let the silence settle.
Then I start putting pieces together. Javier.
Dead. Gabe saw to that personally. Los Hijos del Desierto should be in complete chaos right now.
Power struggles. Lieutenants turning on one another.
Everybody trying to grab the throne. But according to my last reports...
business is moving. Shipments are coming on schedule.
Orders are being followed. That only happens when the man you killed wasn't actually in charge.
Javier wasn't the king. He was the face.
The figurehead. I'm convinced it's Cesar who was pulling the strings all along.
I lean back slowly. That explains why Javier would walk straight into Massimo's hands.
Why every time we thought we'd cornered the Collector...
he was gone. Why the cartel operated like a machine instead of a gang.
One man built that machine. And now we know his name.
Unfortunately... knowing who your enemy is and finding him are two entirely different things.
Then there's Flea.
That little bastard vanished the second the shooting started.
He knows where Cesar is. Or at least where he was.
Which means somebody will find him eventually.
That somebody needs to be us. There's one man left who might know where the little shit could be holed up.
I pull my phone from my pocket and stare at the screen for a long second.
I open my messages and type.
Me:
Pick up my old man.
My thumb hovers over the screen. No. Not like that. I erase the message. Then start again.
Go pick up my father. Be respectful. No unnecessary force. Bring him to the penthouse. It's time we had a conversation.
I hit send. Almost immediately, the three dots appear. Followed by.
Damage Control:
On it, Boss.
A knock sounds at the front door. Knowing that my guards wouldn't just have let anybody come this far, I call, "Enter."
Gabe strides through the door, looking about as rough as I feel, carrying two paper cups of coffee. He knows I hate that shit.
"Thank you?" I take one.
He takes one look at me and snorts. "Jesus."
"Like you look any better." I counter, and we grin at each other. He's sporting a large bandage around his head where he was grazed last night. Lucky for us, he's harder to kill than the pope.
He nods at the cup in my hand. "Drink."
I grimace and take a careful drink. "This stuff is just as vile as last time."
I don't even know how he can buy or drink it. I know for a fact that he owns a state-of-the-art coffee machine, because I gave it to his sorry ass.
He drops into the chair opposite mine, carefully.
"You look worse than I do," I remark.
"I got shot."
"You got grazed," I correct.
"You got kidnapped."
Yeah, that still sits wrong with me. Kidnapped, like a little girl off the street. When I get my hands on Flea, he’ll regret the moment he ever set eyes on me. "Fair."
For a moment, neither of us says anything. Just two battered men drinking bad coffee after one hell of a day and night.
Finally, Gabe breaks the silence. "How's Beccs?"
"Asleep."
"Good. She probably needs it."
"Yeah."
"Audra's finally sleeping too."
I nod.
"Doc said she's lucky—so are you."
I glance down at the raw grooves still circling my wrists. "I know."
Gabe follows my gaze. "You scared the shit out of us."
"I figured."
"When those pictures came through..." He shakes his head. "I thought we'd be recovering a body."
"Sorry to disappoint."
He laughs. "Bastard."
"You look disgustingly happy," I observe. Especially for a man who got shot, almost lost the love of his life, and had one hell of a meeting.
"I am."
"It's unsettling."
He chuckles, completely unapologetic. "It gets worse."
I arch an eyebrow.
His grin widens, and he says one word: "Twins."
I blink. "Twins?"
The bastard actually puffs out his chest. "Audra is having twins." Then he adds unnecessarily, "Mine."
"You couldn't just have one?"
Gabe laughs. "Apparently not."
"Overachiever."
"Story of my life."
I get up, and we fist bump before hugging. "Congrats, man." And I mean it from the bottom of my black heart. He deserves it.
"Thanks."
"You look like a rooster." I can't help but needle.
"I feel like one."
"Don't get too cocky. They'll be teenagers one day."
Gabe's smile falters for the first time. "...You really know how to ruin a man's happiness."
"It's one of my better qualities."
His smile fades. "Business?"
With a smirk of pain that reminds me I still haven't taken the damn painkillers, I fall back into the chair and nod. "Business."
"Massimo wanted me to bring you up to speed."
I lean forward. "What've we got?"
"Javier's dead."
"I assumed that from our conversation earlier."
"The cartel didn't miss a beat."
Exactly what I'd been hearing. "So he really was just the figurehead."
Gabe takes another sip of coffee, making me shudder and wonder if he has something else in his cup. I wouldn't put it past the bastard.
"Looks that way," Gabe says darkly. "Cesar's been running Los Hijos del Desierto all along. I'd bet my casino on it."
I lean back. "So now we know what we're actually hunting."
"Yeah."
"A ghost with an army."
Gabe stares off for a moment, then asks, "What about Flea?"
"Gone."
"Shit."
"We've got people looking. And I've got someone who might know where he is."
That's good enough for Gabe.
I want to know, "What about Damiano?"
Gabe actually smiles. "I finally talked to him."
"And?"
"He told Massimo and me to stay the fuck out of it."
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "That stubborn bastard."
Gabe chuckles. "Runs in the family."
"He say anything else?"
"He said..." Gabe shakes his head, still amused. "I'm handling it."
Of course he did; we trade a knowing look and grin at each other. Then Gabe grows serious again. "We're giving him room."
I nod. "It's his fight for now."
"For the moment."
My phone vibrates against the desk.
Damage Control:
We're here.
I look toward the elevator. "Right on time."
Gabe follows my gaze. "The man who might know where Flea is."
"Yep. My old man."
He studies me for a second. "You want me to stick around?"
I think about it. Then shake my head. "No. This one..." I pick up my coffee,
"is long overdue." I stare at the cup. "I might make him drink this. That'll make him talk."