LOZANO DESCENDED THE GANGPLANK STEPS, his breathing erratic. Normally the prospect of closing in on a prize invigorated him. At least that’s what the capture of Solana had done for his stamina.
Not this time.
For some unknown reason.
Even just before dawn, the Palawan air was sticky. The private plane had flown overnight to land at a former client’s isolated airstrip.
Former. Now deceased.
He smiled.
A small car waited at the opposite end, with Ricardo and Julius beside it. Lozano seethed inwardly at his son’s designer sunglasses and a floral buttoned shirt. At least the boy had worn a black jacket over the ridiculous shirt, with leather shoes instead of flip-flops. Julius sported his signature dark suit, purple shirt and matching tie—probably the only set he had. Both men needed a lesson in dressing well.
Tiburón’s footsteps thudded down the steel steps, a large duffel bag thrown over his back.
Ricardo and Julius had gone ahead of him to secure accommodations and ensure the equipment for their next operation. His son glanced around, his head turning slowly like a surveillance camera, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Julius stayed by the vehicle, his body taut.
Lozano’s instincts prickled. “What’s wrong?”
“Father,” Ricardo cleared his throat. “U.N. Security Forces have retaken Solana. Bendetto is dead.”
Heat flooded Lozano’s body. He curled his fingers into fists.
“How?” He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted warm blood.
“The U.N. Security Council passed the vote in secret, and told everyone it was delayed. Diversionary tactic.”
Fucking politicians. Ricardo continued, taking his father’s silence as asking for more information.
“Prince André sneaked onto the island with some Royal Guards. Joined up with the remnants of the Solanian Army and slipped into the palace. Just as the U.N. Security forces arrived.”
“That spoiled pansy?” Lozano barked. “The man’s a drunk who can’t put on pants without bodyguards.”
“U.N. Security forces arrived to suppress the mercenaries while—”
Lozano grabbed his son’s neck, jerking him to within inches of his face.
Perhaps now, my son will listen.
Ricardo’s eyes widened.
“Ricardo!” The car door opened, the lovely fiancée obviously fearing for her lover. Julius slammed the door shut before she stepped out. The henchman was smart enough to keep her away from a family argument.
Everything was crumbling around Lozano. The fall of Rome, with his brutes scattering like cockroaches in daylight. He tightened his grip, and Ricardo wheezed.
“It would be so easy to snap your neck. You’re far from my first. But you are my son, and it’s my job to teach you. To discipline you when you fail me.”
“Please, Father,” his son croaked. “Let me fix this.”
“I’m surrounded by incompetence, including my own son!” Lozano’s spittle dotted Ricardo’s face. He shoved the boy to the ground, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt, pebbles pelting his son’s trembling body.
Ricardo coughed and struggled to his feet. “U.N. Security Forces distracted Bendetto’s army—”
“My army!”
“Your army,” Ricardo corrected. “Allowing the prince to invade the palace and kill Bendetto.”
“Where’s Raul?”
Ricardo took another step back. “No word.”
Lozano inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm. “Don’t shy away from me, you coward. Face your father like a man.”
His phone vibrated in his suit pocket. Raul’s picture filled the screen. “Where are you?”
“Your general failed.”
“You failed,” Lozano thundered into the phone. “You were sent to ensure his success.”
“He grew cocky.” Splashes and surging engines filled the background. His youngest son was on a boat. Saving his own bloody skin. “Bendetto tried to tighten his rein on our soldiers without giving them incentives. When the shit got real, they bailed.”
“You were supposed to keep him in line.”
“Some dogs enter a fight of their own making. The handler needs to let them learn a lesson.”
“Or cut their losses and run,” Lozano corrected. “Don’t you preach at me, boy.” He rubbed his eyebrows hard, casting several hairs to the ground.
Like father, like son.
“The next time you want to teach a dog lesson while wasting my money and risking my neck on a year-long effort,” he bellowed into the phone. “DON’T! You do as you’re told!”
“Yes, sir.” The only sound on the other end of the phone was more splashing.
Lozano almost smiled as he pictured the acquiescence on his son’s face. Most of the time he appreciated the defiance in his youngest child, his wick of anger easily lit…and useful.
“Where are you?” he continued, his chest aching. “I’ll send the plane for you.”
“No need.” Several voices filled the background, speaking what sounded like Indonesian. “I’m going to rally up some more recruits, and meet you in Manila.”
Lozano snorted. Translation: I’m going to hide from your wrath, and party my dick off while you calm down.
“Manila’s compromised. Go to the hill estate in Cebu.” Suddenly dizzy, Lozano locked his leg in place and inhaled deeply. I’m travelling too much. The humidity and stress…bad combination.
“We’ll have another shot at Solana,” Raul interjected, too blasé. “While we regroup, I’ve left a few sleepers on the island. They’ll keep me informed, and won’t make a move unless we say so.”
“Good,” Lozano rasped. “Very good, boy.”
“Are you all right?” Raul asked, just as Ricardo helped him to his feet. How did I end up on my knee?
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Get your ass to Cebu.” Lozano hung up and placed the phone in his pocket. His chest felt tight, but the dizziness faded.
The car door opened, and Ricardo’s fiancée, Sophia, stepped out with her gold wedge sandals. Her Thai-style burgundy dress left one shoulder bare. Gold and silver accents covered the material down to her knees, and a gold ribbon belt made her tiny waist appear even thinner.
She approached him with a bottled water. The diamond engagement ring glittered on her finger, even with no sun. Long, dark hair reached her waist. Her pretty face reminded him of his wife. “For you,” she said softly.
Ricardo pulled her into his side, though it could have been more of a protective instinct than affection. After all, Lozano had threatened to cut off her finger. She was quite a lovely thing. Although with the disastrous news weighing on him, she was an unwelcome distraction.
Lozano took the bottle. “Get back in the car.”
Her smile disappeared. Ricardo kissed the top of her forehead, and Julius escorted her to the vehicle. When she was inside, and unable to hear their conversation, Lozano downed the water to regain his concentration.
“We have to find the princess. It’s the only remaining leverage we have. With André back in control, that will be his main priority, so we have to beat him to her.” He turned to Tiburón. “Get your brother and his chopper ready. I want that bitch in front of me in less than twenty-four hours.”
He turned to Julius. “The princess is key. But if you can retrieve her and the engineer—alive—then the plane is your bonus.” He cocked his head toward the G6 behind them. Julius never even looked at it, merely nodded at Lozano.
Ricardo glanced at the car.
“Don’t worry, son.” Lozano straightened, and adjusted his suit. “You, your precious fiancée and I will prep for royalty.”