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Miguel
Death.
I’d been around death my entire life, privy to lost innocence. My father had made certain that I understood that death was our friend, a necessity in keeping the peace. I’d learned all about required brutality, understood the various killing methods. All used.
All perfected.
An old English saying had been instilled in me since I’d been a little boy. Death has no calendar. Perhaps I’d never fully understood the meaning until now. Then again, I’d always been the impetuous boy, the fast and furious teenager, and the reckless young man.
And now?
Maybe I was simply too cautious, my inability to seek wrath at any cost a determining factor in the attempt at taking over the Garcia operations. My father would certainly agree. Maybe my sweet mother, a righteous and kind soul, had instilled a sense of fairness. I took another sip of coffee, the taste much more bitter than normal.
I’d never considered myself a cruel man, including the use of excessive force with regard to my enemies. Since seeing the heinous acts performed by the Rivera cartel, I realized I’d been right.
Maybe it was time to alter my methods. I half tossed the mug onto my desk, shoving my hands into my pockets, disgusted with my cavalier attitude.
I’d been a fool to leave the wretched pictures in a position where Valencia could possibly find them. She’d recognized several of the locations within seconds, her initial subdued reaction more out of shock than anything else.
Then she’d locked onto a single picture more than any of the others, finally breaking down into sobs. No amount of questioning had been able to break through. While she’d tossed the group of photographs in my face only seconds before locking herself in her room, I’d been able to figure out the single picture that had taken the utmost toll.
I stood at the window in my office, glaring out at the quiet seas, wondering how Aleksei had managed to get his hands on the information. From what I could tell, the photographs weren’t from law enforcement records, but handled more like art. If I was right in my assumptions, Santiago Rivera was a very sick man, his penchant for death unlike anything I’d experienced before. The pictures were merely trophies for his particular proclivities.
Slaughter.
My connections with the Coast Guard had confirmed the boat was a total loss, a million dollars’ worth of product washed out at sea. Cordero’s early phone call had indicated the rumor mill was saturated with utter bullshit on the streets. Sadly, that would only increase if I didn’t make a direct hit sooner versus later.
And still no sign of Santiago or indication that he’d left the country. When I found the little prick, he was going to learn what it meant to cross a member of the Garcia family.
Hearing my phone made me snarl. I needed time to process and plan, the interruption fueling my impatience. I knew exactly who to expect on the other end. “I anticipated your call.” I could hear my father’s raspy breathing and sighed.
“I just bet you did. Another shipment ruined?” my father snarled, cursing under his breath. “What the fuck is going on? Is this Rivera’s doing?”
“I’m still uncertain.”
“Then what the hell do you know? We can’t have this crap going on, Miguel. You know that better... than... I...” He was forced to stop, wheezing and coughing violently.
Goddamn it. The last thing my father needed was for his blood pressure to rise. My suspicions regarding his health were on the uptick. He was a proud man, refusing to let anyone else see his weakness. While he was also a fighter, I realized his years of heavy smoking had taken a significant toll.
I shifted away from the window, peering down at the photograph. The quality was outstanding, capturing every detail and nuance of the kill. Whoever the young man had been, it appeared he knew his assailant. Either that or he’d been with someone else prior to his murder. The items placed on the table in the background indicated either a meeting or something more intimate for two.
“What I know is that caution is in order and that Rivera is a sick fuck. We need to use prudence in order to determine the best course of action.” My words sounded far too practiced and similar to what I’d said at his house only days before.
“Goddamn it, Miguel. This shit is getting out of hand.” When my father hesitated, I was prepared for whatever bad news he’d avoided. “However, I have something that might prove useful.”
“Which is?” From what I could tell, the young man in the photograph couldn’t be more than in his early twenties. While several of the victims depicted had their faces blown off, the brutality used on the poor sucker’s murder had been particularly gruesome.
But his face had remained unscarred.
A message being sent.
“I suggest you come by the house this morning.”
There was no sense in arguing. “Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.” My agenda was full, quieting the rumors in an effort to keep my ranks free of defection. I was no fool. Whoever was attempting to muscle in on my regime knew the best way to do that was unravel from the bottom up. Killing top members of my organization, or anyone in my family for that matter, would only prove to drive loyalty in my direction. If my laborers believed I was incompetent, they would be easily swayed to work for another organization.
Another wave of rage shot through my system like a jolt of electricity. I slammed my fist against my desk, savoring the slice of pain.
“Such an angry man.”
The sound of Valencia’s voice was far more soothing than I could have imagined, even if her tone was filled with disdain. I eased the photograph into my pocket as I studied her face, her swollen eyes keeping my anger full blown.
She watched my actions, biting her lower lip and maintaining her distance. I could tell she blamed me for forcing a devastating realization about her father. At least she was up and dressed, the attire obviously provided by Sylvie.
“I’ve come to tell you that I’m leaving now with one of your armed guards. Just as commanded. Sir.” Valencia’s words were succinct, laced with acid.
“Sylvie,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Yes. Is she your girlfriend? I must say, rougher around the edges than I would have imagined you being with. Should be an interesting day.”
“I suggest you lay off the insults. Not only is Sylvie highly trained and skilled in areas of marksmanship and martial arts, but she takes no shit from anyone. Especially from a mouthy brat.” I moved around the desk, chastising myself for sparring with her. “And as I told you before, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“A brat. Interesting choice given your actions as of late. By the way, I suggest you lay off the insults. I obviously have every reason to be mouthy. It’s not every day you’re forced to accept just how disgusting your entire life is.” She walked a few inches closer, her body language completely shut down. “Just so I know, were you planning on springing those pictures on me over a bottle of champagne?”
I knew her method of dealing with pain and frustration well. I’d perfected the model over the years. I walked closer, fighting my natural dominating urges when she took a giant step backward, and lowered my voice. “I meant what I said last night. I never wanted you to see those photographs.”
After a few seconds, her expression softened.
“Where did you get them?”
“From a... friend.”
“With friends like that,” she said, laughing bitterly. “You are well aware pictures can be doctored.”
There wasn’t the time or place to get into an argument. I pulled out my wallet, selecting a credit card. “Take this for your purchases. You can buy anything that you want, but please make certain that you select some evening attire including shoes.”
“Does that mean we’ll be going out?” She eyed the card before moving closer and snatching it from my hand.
“I will enjoy sharing my beautiful city with you. You’re not a prisoner, Valencia.”
“As you said.” She fisted the plastic, stepping several feet away from me. “No wedding dress yet?”
The rhetorical question didn’t deserve an answer. Not at this point. “We will be going out to dinner tonight. However, I will make sure groceries are purchased.”
“Pizza and beer?”
“Is that what you’d prefer?”
She opened her mouth as if to mutter yet another nasty retort then exhaled, looking away from me. Her mouth twisted, her chest rising and falling. When she finally spoke, her words were full of sadness. “There’s a little place in Cuba that used to serve the best pizza I’d ever had, the crust chewy with a melt in your mouth flavor. You could smell the garlic from a mile away, the sauce they used just incredible, fragrant and delicious. The mushrooms were succulent, the pepperoni and sausage spicy. They also had a tiny little brewery. It’s funny but I never enjoyed beer until going there. Everything was perfect from the atmosphere to the location. Just a cheap little joint, you know? The owner and his son worked there, trying to make ends meet. They had a single waitress, a young girl who was just as feisty as I was. Just amazing.”
I was able to envision the off the beaten path restaurant, allowing my imagination to capture a moment spent with Valencia. No bodyguards. No danger. Two people enjoying spending time together. I clenched my fist, realizing that my life was far too complex.
“You make that sound like the restaurant doesn’t exist any longer.”
“It doesn’t,” she said in a faraway voice. “Destroyed. I’d heard some terrible things and finally went to see for myself. Everything was gone, the place boarded up. I asked the villagers what happened, and no one seemed to know. I was... devastated.” She rubbed two fingers across her lips before shooting me another harsh glare. “However, that was ages ago. The past. Who cares now?”
“Sounds very special,” I managed, noticing the mist in her eyes, “and I can understand why that would bother you.”
“I can’t see you at a place like that. You’re far too... sophisticated. Suave.” She gave me a slight smile.
I chuckled given the way she said the words, exaggerating her Spanish accent. “I’ll have you know that I thoroughly enjoy finding a tiny little hole in the wall gem where you can relax and not have to pretend to be somebody you’re not.”
“Is that what you do, pretend?”
I had to think about her question. “Don’t we all?”
Valencia nodded several times. “Sadly, I’ve learned the hard way not to get attached to anything or anyone so pretending is a way of life. Not worth it fighting for what you want.”
I closed the distance, allowing my fingers to trace down the line of her arms, my breath skipping from the sensations rocketing through me. Seeing the goosebumps forced my cock to full attention.
She leaned forward, her delicate fingers crumpling around my shirt. The slight moan escaping her lips was far too enticing, the way her luscious lips pursed a clear invitation to ravage her.
I pinched her chin between my thumb and forefinger, lowering my head until I was able to brush my lips across her flushed cheek. “Be careful today. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Sighing, she rose onto her tiptoes, her fingers crawling up to my neck, her back arching in an attempt to get closer. “You’re a formidable man, Miguel. If you’d allow your guard to fall, you’d be so easy to love.”
I captured her mouth, unable to keep from sliding my hand down her back and cupping her rounded bottom. She wiggled when I tugged on the hem of the sundress, pressing my finger into the cleft of her ass. When I gave the plug a twist, her entire body quivered in my hold. After pulling on the end, I thrust the plug in and out several times, my cock aching to the point of raw pain.
The feel of her heated body against mine was incredible, driving the savage hunger back to the surface. I dominated her tongue, drinking in her divine essence while longing to have my face buried in her sweet pussy. I continued driving the plug in brutally, my thoughts drifting to shoving her over the edge of my desk.
Unfortunately, time was of the essence. I broke the connection, biting down on her lower lip before pulling away completely and smacking her ass cheeks twice.
Her face remained flushed, the color blossoming along her cheeks like the petals of a delicate rose.
“Good girl. You’re wearing your plug.” I expected a snappy retort.
Valencia smoothed down her dress, laughing softly. “I can follow orders, sir.”
Goddamn, I wanted the woman.
She gave me a final nod before heading out of the room. Her sad words from earlier lingered, much like her words of love, furrowing into my very soul. I wanted to wrap her up in warmth, showing her that I was capable of providing what she needed; however, I couldn’t trust my own emotions. At least I had an answer about the boy in the photograph. Had her father killed him because of their relationship? It was a development to keep in mind.
* * *
“Miguel! What are you doing here?”
Seeing my mother’s face always brought a smile, no matter the circumstances. She rushed toward me as if she hadn’t seen me in weeks, her embrace tighter than usual. “Just a meeting with Dad,” I countered, although she knew very well that I’d been summoned.
She laughed, the lilting sound more casual than I was used to. “Don’t let him bite you today. Your father is in one of his moods.”
“Isn’t he always?”
My mother was a proud woman, her attire always beautiful and her graceful actions a constant reminder that there was so much good in the world. Today, she seemed a bit more harried than normal, her words clipped as if they held some alternative meaning. Even her manner of dress was off, although I couldn’t put my finger on why.
She darted a glance over her shoulder at my father’s closed office door, lowering her voice before speaking. Her grip on my arms remained firm but I could easily tell she was shaking. “Your father had a doctor’s appointment today. It didn’t go very well. Please don’t tell him I told you.”
“What’s wrong?”
After a few seconds, she shook her head. “He’s just doing too much. You know how your father is.”
While I understood, she was hiding the truth in the same way my father was.
Exhaling, I wanted nothing more than to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but I had my doubts. “When are you leaving on your trip?”
Her look of surprise was telling.
And damning.
Yet in her usual way, she attempted to hide the fact my father had lied about their world journey. “A couple of weeks. As you might imagine, I’m nearly frazzled trying to get everything in order.”
“Where are you going?”
“Oh, you know your father. He has some surprises in store.”
I knew then that this particular meeting had only some to do with our enemies. “I know how much you’ve wanted to see Paris.”
“Yes, the Eiffel Tower has always been a dream.” She had a faraway look, her eyes misting over. “We’ll make certain to send you wonderful pictures wherever we land.”
When she gripped my hand, squeezing harder than normal, the hard tug in my heart was a reminder that I did adore my father. I always had, even though we’d butted heads my entire life. He’d been the rock of the family, working long hours in order to achieve success. His tall tales of being a dishwasher after arriving from Cuba had been the kind of stories to keep a little boy consumed by respect. I’d never thought of my father as a frail man, but on this day, the lump in my throat was painful.
“Everything is going to be all right, Mother,” I half whispered, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“I know. They always are. Did you know your father planned four different trips to Paris over the years and every time, the plans had to be cancelled? I think he was more devastated than I was.” She blinked several times, looking away to hide her tears.
“Well, the fifth time is a charm.”
“Yes. Yes. Well, we shall see what karma has in store,” she whispered. “I won’t keep you. I have a salon appointment in a few minutes.”
I pulled her close, kissing her forehead. “You do realize how much I love and admire both of you. Don’t you?” As she shivered in my arms, I almost lost it.
Easing back, she pressed her cold hand against my cheek. “I know, dear. Don’t forget to tell your father that. He would love to hear how you feel about him. It’s... important.”
She walked away, her heels clipping against the marble floor. I watched as she headed for the stairs, her gait much slower than normal. My mother was one of the strongest people I’d ever known, but on this day, all I wanted to do was protect her.
Protect. I couldn’t seem to get the concept out of my mind.
I stood just outside the door to my father’s office, trying to rein in my need for answers, my usual demanding attitude. Whatever crisis our family was facing needed care and my full attention. Instead of barging in, I knocked.
“Come.”
Even my hand was shaking when I twisted the knob, taking several deep breaths before closing the door behind me. It had only been a couple of days since I’d seen my father, but I could tell he’d aged, his complexion even more sallow, his cheeks sunken in. Even his breathing was raspy.
“How are you doing, Dad?” I asked casually.
“Dad? I don’t remember the last time you called me Dad instead of Father or Carlos.” While he laughed, he almost immediately coughed, forced to double over behind his desk.
“Why don’t you really tell me what’s going on?” I walked closer, glancing down at the items on his desk.
He noticed my curiosity and shifted his folders, hiding whatever he was working on.
But I’d seen a few words, enough to know my fears were real.
Last Will...
“I have some information for you about Santiago that you might find... helpful.” He opened his desk drawer, pulling out a jump drive and tossing it in my direction.
“What’s this?”
“Santiago isn’t a good man. There are several individuals who’ve expressed interest in taking him down. You’ll find information that may help you do just that. If he’s the one behind sabotaging our ships, then you’ll know what to do. I leave it in your capable hands, son. Your mother and I are leaving sooner than expected.”
“And the reason?”
“Let’s just say she’s eager,” he said, trying to offer his usual robust smile.
I pocketed the drive and leaned over his desk. “How bad is it?”
“Our business? We’ll recover. You just need to show the rank and file who’s boss. I’m very proud of you and what you’ve accomplished over these last few years. It’s time for you to take the reins. Maybe I waited too long. You’ve been doing a lion’s share of the work anyway.”
I simply shook my head, remaining quiet.
His smile faded and he slowly eased down onto his office chair. “Would you be a good son and get your old man a drink? And I don’t want to hear any crap about it being only ten in the morning. I get enough of that from your mother.”
“Think I’ll join you,” I said in passing. When I walked toward his bar, I clamped my hand shut before reaching for the glasses. Jesus. I was shaken, a heightened level of fear. This wasn’t like me in any regard. The sound of his continued cough kept me on edge.
I moved back toward his desk, sliding the crystal across the surface before sitting in one of the two leather chairs. While I’d always loved the thick, soft leather, I’d learned early on that the chairs were reserved for visitors he deemed worthy of sitting across from him. Until recently, that had never included me.
I watched the way he fingered the glass, rolling the tip of his index finger around the rim aimlessly. I had no idea what to say at this point.
“You care for her,” he said with an entirely different tone than before.
“Who?”
“Son, if you honestly think there’s a single thing that goes on around here without my knowledge, you’ve underestimated me and the men who remain loyal.” His smile was more genuine than normal.
“Cordero,” I huffed.
“You forget that he trained under me. That kid begged me for almost five years to allow him to join the family. Scrawny little fucker who was so wet behind his ears.” He laughed and lifted his glass in a toast. “Look at him now. Built like what the women would call a brick shithouse, your right-hand man and trustworthy. You can’t beat that.”
Cordero had certainly risen in the ranks, owning his Capo status to my father, but he and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. And yes, he was extremely loyal. “It’s none of his business what I do in my personal life.”
“That’s where you’ve never understood how important it is to choose the right woman in your life. Oh, I know men in our ranks never have just one woman, but for me, your mother was more than enough. She was the very light of my life, the reason I kept going, working so hard. Did I ever tell you that her father threatened to kill me more than once if I ever bothered her?”
I’d heard countless stories over the years, but this was certainly new. “And I’m certain that didn’t go over well.”
He laughed again, this time without wheezing. “Jack and I are old buddies now. I was far too old for Lucinda and of course, I was nothing but a goddamn motherfucking piece of trash dishwasher. I do think that’s a direct quote.”
I lifted my glass, chuckling. “Look at you now, Pops.”
“Your mother loved me even when I didn’t have a dime. She continued to love me when I built this business and yes, she knew almost every detail of what I was working on. At least at first. When it became too painful for her loving ways, I stopped bringing her into the business.”
For my old school father to actually allow my mother to be involved in decisions made was definitely news. “That was probably wise.”
“Yes,” he said absently, taking a huge gulp before continuing. “What I’m trying to tell you, son, is that if you are keeping this girl to simply get to Santiago, don’t. It’s bad for business, your soldiers, and for that poor girl.”
I took a swallow of scotch before answering. “What if it’s more?”
He leaned over, lifting a single eyebrow. “You have to think carefully, but if you’re certain about your feelings then care for her with all your heart. Never let business or another woman get in the way. Respect her. Treat her right. And if you need a reason to kill Santiago then you have one. He’ll never let her out of his world. Never. Not unless he’s dead or put in a prison where they have no keys.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The utter hatred my father had for the man meant whatever past they had together was tumultuous. We sat quietly for a few minutes, perhaps enjoying each other’s company more than usual. But I had to know what he was dealing with.
He was my father after all.
“How sick are you?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice even.
As usual, the stoic man clammed up, twisting in his chair until he was able to see outside. “You worry too much, son. Now, I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone, son. You make very good decisions. Do what’s necessary to keep things going.”
“Look, we should talk.”
We both heard some commotion in the hall just seconds before my mother burst into the room.
“Lucinda, what is it?” my father asked as he jumped to his feet.
“Your daughter. She won’t tell me what’s wrong,” she responded, wringing her hands. “But, Carlos, Elena has a black eye.”
I was out of the chair within two seconds, taking long strides out into the foyer. Elena was already halfway up the stairs, no doubt racing in an effort to get away from having to explain. Thank God, Selena was with her.
“Elena. Stop,” I demanded.
“Unkie Miguel!” Selena squealed.
“Go to your room,” Elena insisted, pushing on her daughter.
“But Mommy!”
Elena was unraveling. “I said go. Now!”
Selena frowned but scampered off, my sister trying to follow closely behind.
“We are going to talk about this,” I insisted.
“Leave me alone, Miguel. I can handle this. I just need some time,” Elena said in a muffled tone. I could tell she’d been crying.
I managed to grab her arm, pulling her as gently as possible to a halt. When I eased her around to face me, my blood boiled. “What. The. Fuck?”
She immediately struggled to get out of my hold, pressing her other hand against her swollen eye. Her lip was cracked, dried blood drops on her chin. “Leave it alone.”
“Who did this to you? Who attacked you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I kept my grip firm, taking several scattered breaths. “Did Winston do this to you?”
When Elena winced, I knew I was going to kill the motherfucker.
“Miguel, please. We had an argument. I shouldn’t have made him angry. That’s all. Nothing more. I just need some space to think.” My own sister, the girl who’d kicked a boy in the balls when she was barely thirteen years old had been reduced to this.
Oh. Fucking. No.
I lifted her chin, surveying the damage. “Did he hit you anywhere else?”
“No. Not really.” She sniffed then broke into tears. “I don’t know why he’s like this. He was always so sweet to me before we got married. I do everything I can not to make him angry. He’s changed over the last few months. Just...”
My mind was already planning the method in which the man would die, while my heart was breaking for her as well. I pulled her close, holding the back of her head. “I promise you that everything is going to be all right. You don’t need to deal with this shit. Don’t worry, Dr. Calhoun is never going to lay a hand on you again.”
“But I love him. I really do.”
For all the stories I’d heard over the years, the various affairs that men within cartels and mob families had on a regular basis, I’d never understood their lack of respect. Maybe I was from a different world, but I wasn’t going to stand for this. Not for any reason. I should have taken out the motherfucker the first time I knew something was wrong.
I eased her back, trying to lower my voice. “Right now, you need to think about your daughter and nothing else. If that bastard could handle doing something like this to his own wife, imagine what he’d do to Selena.”
“Then I’d cut out his heart,” she stated with absolutely no inflection.
“That’s my sister, strong and beautiful. Just stay here. Okay? Trust me.”
“Miguel, what are you planning?”
“To make certain he doesn’t hurt you again.” I kissed her on the forehead once more and jogged down the stairs heading toward the front door.
“Miguel. Be careful what choices you make,” my father said from only inches behind me.
As I opened the door, I allowed the words to filter in and tipped my head until I could see his face. “Don’t worry, Father. You taught me well. I’ll do what’s absolutely necessary and nothing more.”
I’d give the good doctor two choices. If he was a smart man, he’d make the right one. If not? Then I would do what came naturally.
No one fucked with my family.