Mile High

by Ophelia Bell

  The toilet in the adjoining bathroom flushes, and we all go silent as whoever is on the other side of the door turns on the faucet for a brief second. When the water turns off, the bathroom door opens.

  Marco stands in the doorway, his casual demeanor replaced by steely determination. He spears me with a sharp look that I can’t read, but I’m positive a hard conversation is in store for me later. Then he looks at Katherine.

  “If you’re talking about Captain Benjamin Watts, I want you to tell him Marco Santos wants in. He’ll remember me. Because whatever the fuck this ‘mission’ is, if it involves my family, you’d better be damn sure I’m going to personally make sure it’s a success.”

  I clear my throat and point at my brother. “Senator Longo, I’d like you to meet my brother, Marco.”

  “I know who you are, Commander Santos,” Katherine says. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but your entire team is already on our list. We just have to go through proper channels to get you reassigned. You will hear from us before too long, I assure you.”

  Introductions and revelations settled, I leave Callie to spend time with her mom and best friend, while Marco heads to the back yard to take over grilling duties from Sam. I settle into a chair on the back porch, nursing my beer and watching as Zoe is fawned over by Celeste while Mom looks on with a smile. My daughter is a fearless little thing once she gets comfortable with new people and seems to thrive as the center of attention.

  “She’ll rule your life if you let her,” says a deep voice from the doorway behind me. I crane my head around to see Arturo Flores step through, dressed down in slacks and a peach-colored button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He clinks his bottle with mine and takes the empty seat next to me.

  I eye him suspiciously before nodding. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He chuckles. “You say that now when she’s too young to get into much trouble. Just you wait. She’ll challenge you at every turn.”

  His gaze is fixed on Celeste, but I don’t see an ounce of regret. Only pride.

  I tense when the Quiñones twins step through the door, but they stride right past Flores as if he isn’t there and straight to their sister Toni, who stands in conversation with a couple other guests near a table filled with desserts. My little brother Sam stands at Toni’s side and scowls at the twins when Toni greets both her brothers with big hugs. I don’t miss the sidelong looks they give Sam, which prompt him to turn and slink back through the crowd. He stops at Elle’s side and hovers over her like a big guard dog, his eyes narrowed at Benny and Baz as if daring them to try something.

  Sure enough, within a few moments, both twins’ gazes gravitate to my sister, but Sam’s right in their line of sight. This is definitely a fight in the making, and I hope to hell the parties involved keep their heads. Sam’s been in love with Toni since he was a teen. Now she’s his boss, but his adoration of her has only grown keener over the years. And it’s hard to say what the twins’ interest is in Elle, but they went to school together and have been friends for years, so maybe it’s innocent, but you wouldn’t think it based on Sam’s overprotective streak.

  Elle doesn’t seem to register the stunt, or the casual glares. She’s too involved in whatever conversation she and Celeste have been immersed in for the last twenty minutes. Staring at them side by side, it’s clear at a glance that they’re sisters, at least now that I know. They have the same eyes, and similar head-tilts when they’re deep in thought.

  “I see where Elle gets it. That drive and independence. You still haven’t told her, have you?”

  I glance at Flores, whose gaze is still fixed on the two women. “Her life will change when she knows. It doesn’t serve any purpose to tell her yet. Her or Antonia.”

  I lift an eyebrow, because that’s the first time he’s claimed Toni as his out loud.

  “So their right to know the identity of their biological father isn’t reason enough?”

  He turns to look at me, gesturing toward the girls. “Tell me, would you have let Zoe know who you really were if her parents hadn’t been killed?”

  “I see your point,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have a right to know once she was old enough to process it.”

  “There’s more than one reason I accept both your brother and Leo as my daughter’s partners. They are a barrier between her and those who would harm her. That doesn’t mean I think they’re expendable, but her life is more important to me than anything. However, any danger to her is only a result of her name—of her link to me and my organization. The second I claim my other children, they become targets too, and anyone close to them. They’re better if they, and the rest of the world, are kept in the dark, comprendes?”

  I clench my jaw, but begrudgingly nod. If I have any regrets about claiming Zoe, it’s only because I’ll have to come clean to her eventually about some of the darkness in my past. Though there are some secrets I may never share.

  “Does Celeste know all the names of the men you’ve killed?” I ask in a low voice. There’s music playing and we’re surrounded by the din of dozens of conversations going on at once, so it’s unlikely anyone can hear me, but I don’t want to take any chances.

  He casts a shrewd glance my way and shakes his head. “She just needs to ask. But there’s one name that isn’t on that list, despite what you might be thinking.”

  “What I might be thinking is that we had a conversation a few weeks ago and you agreed to take care of something that needed doing. And now that thing is done.”

  He chuckles and lifts his beer to his lips. After swallowing, he says, “I won’t deny setting things in motion, but the timing wasn’t right for Marcella. I didn’t think she was in any condition to handle a loss like that. Turns out God had other plans. I did check with my contact to make sure he didn’t jump the gun. Your father was drunk when it happened, and had no business working on helicopter engines in that condition. Since his unit loved him so much, they didn’t put it in the report. Simple slip and fall. Hazard of the job.”

  I just blink at him, trying to decide if I heard correctly. Dad’s death was an honest to God accident.

  Flores laughs and stands, patting me on the shoulder. “You can ease your conscience, son. Now why don’t you introduce me to my grand-niece? Any woman who can survive a week with César Zavala and still laugh like that little angel is someone who’s earned my respect.”

  I take a moment before I follow, surveying the scene before me and processing his speech. I can’t dispute his logic, but my perspective is a little different. My siblings and I are tight, but have always been independent. I’m not about to be the one to unilaterally decide for them how best to keep them safe. It should be a joint effort, and to make sure it is, I’m going to have to give them the tools to protect themselves.

  Deciding to start with Marco today, I stand and head his way. He redeploys in a couple days, so I don’t want to waste time, especially considering he just volunteered his own life to the cause.

  45

  Mason

  My world brightens in the days after the party, after Papá Flores revealed that he never had the chance to act on my demand that he assassinate my dad. With Mom home, things start to feel normal for a change, though I occasionally find myself just standing in the middle of the living room, marveling at the fact I’m even back here.

  The crazy thing is that when I was discharged from the Navy three and a half years ago, I wasn’t anywhere close to wanting this. I was too antsy to focus on settling down. I bounced between money-making schemes and women’s beds like a teenage girl trying on prom dresses. To say I’m a different man now would be a huge understatement.

  Everyone is getting back to their lives now. After the party, Elle and Sam head back to San Diego. Marco disappears on another SEAL mission, vowing to call the second he gets word of his new assignment coming through. Dad’s death barely caused a blip on our radars, though I think it was one of the factors in Mom’s desire t
o throw herself back into her dance classes. She was married to him for over thirty years, and it can’t all have been bad if she stayed, even if the reasons near the later part were more about protecting him from Flores than actually loving the bastard.

  She still isn’t quite steady enough on her feet to dance, but won’t budge on the issue of returning to work. Despite mine and Maddox’s objections, Callie insists it’ll be good for Mom to get back to her regular routine. Something about neuroplasticity and creating new pathways to replace the old ones requiring constant work. It’s evidently better if Mom doesn’t just sit around and rest.

  Maddox and I convince her to compromise by hiring one of her advanced students as an assistant, so she can delegate the more physical aspects of teaching and not push herself too hard. But her transition back to the studio gives me the opportunity to evaluate my own direction. It’s been a challenge settling into life as a single dad, but one I have zero regrets about.

  Well, I might have one. Not a regret, exactly, but one loose end that I haven’t yet found the right moment to tie up.

  With Mom back at work, I wind up spending more time at her studio with Zoe, helping both her and Maddox out with their respective businesses. Exercising my strategic mind to help the two of them is rewarding, but every time I’m in that old building, I wind up pacing around the big garage in back and letting my mind wander to what it could be.

  My own dream remains at the back of my mind, but it slips into my daily thoughts more and more and I find myself scanning online classified ads, looking for old cars that could turn into potential projects.

  I’m not at a stage where I could advertise my services yet. The car Rafael and I rebuilt isn’t due to arrive from Mexico City for another week after the party, and I need one or two more under my belt first. But I have money saved from the last three years being in the DEA’s pocket and spending very little, plus saving my earnings from being one of Zavala’s thugs. Before too long, I’ve managed to sketch out a business plan to show my brother.

  Within a week, we have the garage set up with proper lifts and tools, and a wrecker arrives with the first project—a rusted-out ’65 Thunderbird. It’s a diamond in the rough, and my dick gets a little hard as we unload it into the bay and I start work almost instantly. Rafael’s Mustang is sitting pretty in another bay beside Maddox’s truck, giving me all the inspiration I need to make this new project shine.

  For the next couple weeks, I’m practically living in domestic bliss, working in the garage all day with Zoe in a playpen in a safe corner. Sometimes she spends time with her grandma Marcella, or her aunt Celeste, but most days she’s with me. My daughter has no shortage of female role models, but Callie is the one who makes her face light up the most when she comes over, which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like. I want her every night, but her schedule doesn’t allow for it, so we take full advantage of the nights we do manage to spend together.

  It’s been a month since Dad died and Mom came home from the hospital. Valentine’s Day, to be exact. It’s a Monday, which Callie has always said was a slow day at work for her, so I convinced her to take the afternoon off.

  I’m working on a special project for Sam when she arrives at the garage still in scrubs, her entrance announced by Zoe’s excited squeals. My daughter clambers to her feet, rocking unsteadily before taking a few cautious steps to the edge of her playpen and grabbing hold of the cushioned rail. I stare, awestruck and unable to speak for a few seconds.

  “Oh my god, is she walking?” Callie’s hand flies to her mouth and she rushes to Zoe, grinning like a fool while I wipe my hands on a grease-stained rag and join her. She only has eyes for Zoe, though. “Were you walking, Zo-Zo?”

  “It’s a first for sure,” I say, stunned and smiling as Callie hoists Zoe in her arms and kisses the babbling little girl on the cheek. Then she graces me with a less chaste kiss and my body hums with pure joy of a different sort. My baby girl walked! The event very nearly overwhelms me but Callie’s warm embrace brings me back to earth.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she murmurs in a seductive voice when we part. I almost regret not agreeing to let Elena, Arturo’s housekeeper, take Zoe for the full day, but I’m glad I didn’t after witnessing such a milestone. She’ll be spending the night at the Flores estate with her uncle, but I wanted to have her with me and Callie for the first part of our afternoon plans.

  “Same to you, wildcat,” I say and give her ass a gentle squeeze.

  Her gaze shifts behind me to the Harley Davidson Sportster chassis that rests on a small lift. It can’t look like much at the moment, and her skeptical expression tells me she isn’t impressed.

  “I thought you just did classic cars?” She takes a step past me and examines the naked frame with her head tilted.

  “This is a side project. Sam’s trying to impress a girl, and he thought giving her a hog for her birthday was the best way to do it. When it’s done, it’ll look like this.”

  I hold up the artist’s rendering Sam created of what he wants the bike to look like when it’s finished, complete with Toni Valentine’s organic vine-like logo on either side of the fuel tank.

  Callie blinks and opens her mouth, a startled laugh escaping. Zoe coos and gurgles in response. “He’s giving that to a girl he likes? Does she even like motorcycles? Does she even like him? Wait a sec, it’s Toni, isn’t it? Never mind, I get it.”

  I chuckle and nod. “Yep.” Sam’s adoration of his boss isn’t exactly a secret in our family. He’s been infatuated with Toni ever since he hit puberty, and his feelings haven’t diminished one bit after working for her for the past three years, first as an apprentice at her tattoo studio and now as an associate artist with his own cubicle and regular clients.

  “Well, there is something to be said for grand gestures. I have a feeling she’ll love the bike. As for Sam, he might have an uphill battle getting her to reciprocate his feelings. He’s a bit young for her, you know.”

  “The Santos men are the most patient, persistent men on the planet. Mad and I are both rooting for him. Besides, it’s giving me an excuse to expand my skillset with restorations.” I pat the handlebar of the bike and turn back to her. “Are you ready to head out?”

  She holds up her backpack. “Do I have time to get changed? You didn’t tell me what you had planned for us, so I hope what I brought works.”

  “Whatever you want to wear is fine. Just make sure you have a jacket.”

  Once she’s changed out of her scrubs into jeans and a sweater, I strap Zoe into her car seat in the back of the Mustang, making sure her little hat is secure. It’s a sunny February day, though still cool for Los Angeles. But there’s no way in hell I’m taking this car out with the top up on a day like this.

  The engine rumbles to life as smoothly as ever, purring like a kitten when I give her gas. My brother’s on hand to open the garage for us and waves goodbye, giving me a knowing wink as I head down the alley to the street at the end.

  I make my way through the city streets north into the Hollywood Hills. Eventually the windy neighborhood streets lined with million-dollar homes give way to undeveloped landscape, green from winter rainstorms. The road winds around and the wind whips Callie’s hair across her face. She laughs in delight, turning in her seat at the sound of Zoe’s enthusiastic squeals from behind. Her little hands are up in the air and her two-toothed grin radiant as if she’s on the ride of her life.

  “This is exciting, isn’t it, Zoe? Dada’s taking us on an adventure!” Then she looks at me and says, “You know, in all the years I’ve lived in LA, I’ve never ventured up into the hills.”

  “It’s worth the trouble, trust me.”

  In a little while I reach our destination, an overlook with a view of the city in one direction and the famed Hollywood sign in another. My heartbeat speeds up as I pull into the empty parking lot, grateful for the relative privacy. It’s a romantic spot, but most couples won’t be venturing to places like this for a few more hou
rs.

  Callie is laughing as she fights with her tangled hair, her blonde tresses a mess from the ride. “I wish I’d known this was the plan or I’d have brought a hat, or at least braided my hair first.”

  She digs into her purse for a hairbrush and begins to work through the tangles.

  “Baby, you’re gorgeous no matter how your hair looks, but I think I have something in the glovebox that’ll help for the ride home.”

  Setting her brush on her lap, she leans forward to pop open the door to the glovebox. There’s only one object inside, and she just stares at it for several beats before putting one hand to her mouth.

  “Oh, Mason. Is this what I think it is?”

  Shakily she reaches inside and delicately lifts the small velvet box. She stares at it for another second before slowly opening the lid, then stares some more, her mouth open.

  I turn in my seat and take her hand. “Callista Angelica Longo-Nicolo, you’re the woman of my dreams, the light of my life—” A raspberry noise from the backseat cuts me off and Callie lifts an eyebrow. “Okay, one of the lights of my life. I hecking adore you. Will you marry me?”

  She snorts a laugh, then declares, “Yes! My god, I thought you would never actually do it! I love you so much. Both of you. Of course I’ll marry you.”

  I extract the sparkly ring from inside the box and slip it on her finger, feeling a surge of pride at the way it shines in the sunlight. I shouldn’t compare it to the trashy little thing her ex gave her, but the look in her eyes tells me I did good. The diamond is about five times the size of the old one, and the band is encircled with tiny diamonds too. It cost a pretty penny, but I wanted to indulge.