Attraction
CARLOS
“Please, Mr. Fuentes, I’m begging you.”
Christopher has worked for me for five years.
Five years.
I let him into my home, trusted him with preparing my food, and even helped his family when his wife died, leaving him the sole carer of their three children.
I let him in.
My guard has been down for a long time around him, and that was the problem. Once more, I have been proven right: familiarity breeds disloyalty.
Again.
“Mr. Fuentes,” he pleads on his knees, sobbing. “I made a mistake. If I could take it back, I would.”
Grayson doesn’t lower the gun from where it’s pointed at his head. I walk closer, making sure every step registers as fear. I see it on his face, slowly, his eyes widening with terror.
The Grim Reaper never forgets, and those who cross him will always remember...
I never forget.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t let Grayson pull the trigger?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Calmness is its own threat.
Christopher’s hands grasp together, his fingers intertwining like he’s about to pray. To me? Doesn’t he know I’m closer to the devil and the fires of hell?
“I have my children. What will become of them if I die?” he begs.
My face remains impassive. “Why didn’t you think of them before you betrayed me?”
He blanches, his eyes filling with tears. “I was an idiot. I-I have a gambling problem. Please. They preyed on my weakness.”
I feel my teeth grind together. “Did these years of service in my house mean so little to you—did I mean so little to you—that when you were in trouble, you went to my enemies for help?” My restraint is chipping at the edges.
There will be no forgiveness here.
His betrayal has cost me not only money, but more importantly, it cost lives. Francesca did not deserve to die that way. I will avenge every drop of her blood they spilled.
I look to Grayson, giving him a wordless confirmation. Christopher senses his time is up. The decision is made. He begins to shake and cry.
“Mr. Fuentes, please. I will repay—”
“Yes, you will. With your blood,” I say.
I don’t turn away.
He will see my face before he goes and remember it even in hell.
The shot rings out. His body jerks back, falling onto the plastic-covered floor.
Now I walk away.
I pull my phone from inside my jacket pocket and dial the number I know by heart.
Alice, my secretary, picks up on the first ring. “Mr. Fuentes, good morning. What can I do for you?”
“I need a new chef.”
************
I pause the video where the camera zooms in on the woman’s face. Delicate features, beautiful dark caramel skin, hair swept back and piled on top of her head into a large chignon.
She is gorgeous.
“I want her,” I say.
Alice’s eyes widen. “I don’t think that’s wise, sir. I only showed you her file, and everything I could dig up on her, because she applied. Clearly she’s not—”
“I want her." My tone is final.
Alice nods once and begins typing on her tablet. “When do you want to interview her? I must insist on a trial.”
I press play on the video and watch her features morph into shock at the accusation, even though she just saved the man’s life by administering the injection in time. I watch security drag her to where I can’t reach her.
Not yet.
“Tomorrow,” I say, “but not at the house. The new residence.”
The old house is compromised, but I don’t tell her that. I do my best to keep my assistant out of Mafia business. That used to be Francesca’s job. My hand clenches on the arm chair at the thought of her.
“I will send Grayson to pick her up,” I hear myself say.
Precautions are needed now more than ever.
Alice nods but says nothing, still typing. She doesn’t ask about details, familiar with what falls under her jurisdiction when it comes to my business.
“Done.” She looks up with a smile. “Email sent. I gave her another location so she doesn’t ask questions until...your arrangement.”
My phone buzzes and I pick it up without looking at the caller ID. Only a select few have this number.
“Yes?”
“You wanted an update on Christopher’s children.” It’s Luke. “Their grandmother took them in. We already made arrangements to cover their school fees and everything else they will need.”
“Good.”
They will not pay for their father’s sins. I still have Santiago to take care of, but the Fuente de la Muerte Cartel isn’t today’s problem. They will get what’s coming; that’s not even up for negotiation.
They will look up soon and find that it’s raining bullets.
My eyes drift to the beautiful chef’s face on the screen. A thrill runs through my body, and the urgency for revenge ebbs away, replaced by something fiercer that is less likely to cost my soul.
It’s the thrill of the chase.
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