“Then why are you here if I’m to be kept in the dark?” he sneered.
“Aside from informing you to cease your efforts with the Russians, I came to give you a heads-up. Two possible scenarios could unfold. One of them, should it transpire, would require your assistance.”
He tipped his head back, his lips blossoming into a satisfied grin. “I see. So, you might need my help, but I’m not permitted to know with what.”
I raised my hands with a shrug. “It is what it is. I don’t make the rules.”
In a flash, his sneer was back. “You have my fucking number. Maybe I’ll be available when you call.” He turned his back on me, returning to his desk chair in a show of dismissal. For one of the most feared men in our business, he could act like an overgrown child.
I couldn’t help smirking from the satisfaction of being the source of his tantrum. It was time to leave before matters devolved further. As I turned to exit, something on one of his shelves caught my attention. I froze, examining the delicate features of an object I knew well. A small statue of the Lady of Guadalupe. I walked to the place where she humbly stood, arms outstretched in welcome.
“What are you doing?” Vargas barked, but I was too stunned to reply.
I picked up the figurine, only about four inches tall, and turned it over in my hands, studying every tiny detail. In particular, I stared at the three broken prongs of light radiating from her left side. All the other prongs surrounding her were intact, but those three had been cut in half.
“Did you go to see her?” I asked.
“No, I never made it there,” he answered warily, unsure of my intent.
“Seems odd to have a souvenir if you never went.”
“That’s because it’s a souvenir but not from the holy site.”
I nodded, eyes never leaving the figurine. “My mother took me when I was young, and we bought a statue just like this while we were there. Two years later, I accidentally knocked it over and broke off three of the rays, just like this one.” Finally, I lifted my steely gaze and glared at him.
Vargas’s eyes narrowed as if he were suddenly seeing me for the first time. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “I always wondered why my brother took in a rat off the street, but now it makes sense.”
“What are you talking about?” My stomach clenched with unease, sensing I would not like what he had to say next.
“You’re his son.”
“Nazario?”
“No—Alvarez.”
“The dead cartel leader? I wasn’t his son—I grew up dirt poor, not living in some mansion.” I was so confused about how he could possibly jump to such a conclusion.
He shook his head. “But you did, didn’t you? You lived in an enormous house, just not on the main floor. Alvarez was with a woman when I killed him. I wondered what he’d been doing there in the servant’s quarters, but I figured he was simply talking to the staff. That wasn’t it at all, was it? That woman was your mother. I took the statue from her room to remind me of our accomplishments that day.”
I racked my brain, trying to remember what I could about those early years of my life. My mother had worked for a rich man, but I was a child and had paid little attention to the man. Everyone called him El Jefe, or boss, inside the house. Later, it had never occurred to question who my mother’s boss had been. I lost that life, spending two years on the streets after her death and quickly leaving every vestige of my childhood behind.
What Juan Carlos claimed was possible, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Disbelief and denial clouded my vision. I refused to accept that Naz had been responsible for my mother’s death. I’d viewed him as my savior for so long. My foster father. How could the one person who gave me hope during my darkest hours be the same man responsible for my greatest grief? It was too much to comprehend.
“You’re fair, just like him. Did you ever question why you looked so unlike your mother?”
I shook my head absently. “There’s plenty of non-native people living in Mexico. That didn’t mean Alvarez was my father.”
“No, but it makes sense, and somehow, Naz figured that out. That’s why he brought you home with him.”
I slammed the figurine back on the shelf as if it had stung me, then stepped away from the offending object, overcome with emotion. I couldn’t breathe. As though the walls were closing in around me, and if I didn’t lash out, I’d never survive. I had to get out of there before I did something I would regret.
“I believe we’re done here.” My words were clipped, strained with my effort to maintain control. I didn’t wait for him to respond. I stormed out of the house and tore off in my car at speeds only rivaled by my racing heart.
Chapter 9
Giada
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep when Primo left, but between my relief at seeing him again and being sex drunk from the orgasm of a lifetime, I passed out cold within minutes of his departure. I woke the next morning deliciously sore in all the right places. My mouth spread in a feline grin as I recalled the events of the night before in glorious detail.
My mystery man had a name, and I had his phone number.
Whatever it was that was growing between us wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
Primo may not live near me, but plenty of people managed long-distance relationships. I would get to see him before he went back home, and who knew where things would go from there. The world was suddenly my oyster, full of possibilities.
I rose from my bed with renewed energy and purpose. Normally, it took at least two cups of coffee to summon that kind of enthusiasm first thing in the morning. Yet today felt different. Like a new beginning.
What better way to start an adventure than with yoga? No matter where my life took me, yoga would always be a part of my routine. I threw on my workout clothes and got ready for my day, including brewing a cup of coffee because my need for the dark brew would not be diminished by any amount of natural vivacity.
I was bringing a mug to my lips for that first delectable sip when someone pounded on my front door.
Did security at the front desk not stop anyone from coming up?
I mean, really. It was freaking Grand Central Station around here.
I couldn’t imagine Primo had come back already. The only other person who paid me unexpected visits was Alessia, but she didn’t tend to break down my door when she knocked. I readied myself for whoever I’d encounter on the other side and opened the door.
Maria stood in the hallway, swathed in a cloak of indignant fury. “Do you have any idea what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into?” She stormed forward, forcing me aside.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I closed the door behind her and tried to tamp down the surging sense of unease churning in my stomach.
She set down her purse on my kitchen counter and fished out a stack of photographs, handing them to me. “I’m talking about him. The man you picked up in Vegas is the sicario Matteo hired to find Sal.”
I glanced at the still shots of Primo entering my apartment, taken from the security cameras Maria had installed. “You know him?”
“I only saw him briefly when we went to finish Sal. He’s a sicario, Giada. Do you know what that means?”
“Like Benicio del Toro in that movie? Aren’t they Columbian or something?”
Maria rolled her eyes. “That may have been where the term originated, but it means he’s a cartel hitman. He works for the Sonora Cartel, the largest and most ruthless trafficking organization in America.”
“Wait. You said Matteo hired him?”
“I’m not sure exactly what their past is, but yes. Matteo knew him somehow and had him help us find Sal down in Vegas. That’s how we were finally able to finish him.”
Sal had worked as Uncle Enzo’s underboss, which I only discovered when I learned about the mafia. They’d been childhood friends, but their connection went far deeper. Sal turned on my uncle, and shit hit the fan until Maria and her now
husband, Matteo, went to Vegas to put an end to Sal.
Maria was telling me Primo was a cartel hitman? I wanted to argue there was no way, but that would have been a big fat lie. Primo seemed every bit the criminal, and I had just ignored that minor detail.
“I have no clue how you got in with him”—Maria cut into my thoughts—“but you need to walk away and fast. That man is dangerous.”
“Yeah, but isn’t that the world we live in? Isn’t Matteo dangerous? And what about our fathers? You can’t tell me their hands are clean. How is Primo any different?”
Maria snatched the photos from my hand and shoved them back in her purse. “I’m not arguing with you about this. You can take it up with our fathers.” She opened her phone and began to dial.
“You can’t tell them!” I hissed.
“Fuck that. If you think I’m keeping quiet about this, you’re deranged.” Her eyes darted away as her call was answered by a masculine voice. “I’ve got a situation. Can you and Uncle Edoardo meet me in an hour at the house? I appreciate it … see you then.” She lowered the phone and glared at me. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
***
“A fucking sicario? Jesus, Giada. Your mother warned me you would end up in trouble, but I didn’t think you’d find yourself this deep.” My father massaged his forehead and paced along the wall of Uncle Enzo’s office.
The force of his words was a punch straight to my gut. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the disappointment in my father’s voice or having him berate me in front of others. Uncle Enzo, Maria, and Matteo all eyed me in varying degrees of wariness and irritation. I told myself they were all just trying to protect me, but I felt as though I was being attacked, which made me defensive and angry.
“Every one of you is a giant hypocrite, pointing fingers at Primo like he’s some monster because he’s in organized crime. Are you too high and mighty to see that you’re just the same?”
“He’s a part of a cartel, Giada,” Uncle Enzo cut in before my red-faced father could lash out. “Those men are not like us, despite what you might want to believe. They have no code or honor among them. Their world is cutthroat—kill or be killed. They are savages. I can’t speak to this man, in particular, but any association with that world is dangerous. That’s why we’re concerned. We got word a while back that the cartels were moving in on the East Coast. Recently, they had trouble with the Russians, but we haven’t had any direct encounters with them. We knew they would show up eventually, but we’ve had no cause to act so far. I believe this could be their first move on us.”
“And that’s precisely why they’re so much worse than us,” my father spat. “Going after women and children.”
“It’s not like that,” I hurried to explain. “We met in Vegas, and he didn’t even know who I was.”
Dad huffed, and Maria rolled her eyes, but it was Matteo that spoke up.
“I’m not sure you grasp what the cartels are capable of. No one here is claiming to be innocent. However, our organizations and actions are a far cry from the depravity that has unfolded in Mexico, where the government has lost control over crime lords. Public executions, slaughtering pregnant women, trafficking children and women into the sex trade, even bombing public places. They are the worst kind of terrorists, preying on their own people, and there is no one to stop them down there. They have absolute authority and no conscience whatsoever. We are businessmen, though more ruthless than most, but they are tyrants.”
An unsettling chill permeated deep into my bones. Hearing Matteo give a calm, impartial analysis of the cartels put their concerns in a different light. He wasn’t an overreacting father or an uncle looking to keep me in line with exaggerated threats. I hardly knew him, so my death would mean little more to him than a funeral and consoling a mildly upset wife. He had no reason to lie. His explanation held a resounding note of truth, and I worried Primo posed far more danger than I’d imagined.
He told me straight out that I should fear him. Maybe I needed to heed that warning. But if he’d wanted to hurt me, he could easily have done that already. Although, Matteo implied that any association with the cartels was dangerous. The threat wasn’t just Primo.
I didn’t know what to say. It was entirely possible I’d gotten myself in worse trouble than I realized.
Uncle Enzo filled the silence. “We don’t know what this man wants or what is going on yet, so until he’s left town and things settle, I want guards on the women of this family. We can communicate the threat to the capos and see what more we can learn on the streets.”
“What does that mean? Am I going to be on lockdown or something?”
“Not exactly, but I don’t want you leaving your apartment unless it’s necessary. If you do, we’ll need to get someone to escort you. I don’t want you out unprotected.” Enzo raised an eyebrow in warning.
“I’m not trying to be difficult, I swear, but I can’t just stay in my apartment indefinitely. I have a nail appointment tomorrow, and I’ll have to get out occasionally just to stay sane.”
“Enzo,” Matteo interjected, “unless you have someone in mind, I’m happy to volunteer my brother, Filip. I believe he’s already met Giada and is familiar with the situation.”
Uncle Enzo nodded. “If you can spare him for a while, that would be a great help. Giada, we won’t ask anything oppressive of you, but I expect you to work with Maria and Filip while we sort this out. Will that be a problem?”
My heart ached with a crushing disappointment that my sordid affair wasn’t to be all that I’d hoped. I felt an inexplicably strong connection with Primo, and I bitterly regretted not getting to explore where that might take us. I told myself it was best to end things if he was truly a part of something so horrific as Matteo described, but it was still hard to process that the man I’d met could be so evil.
“It’s not a problem, Uncle Enzo. I’ll make sure to be safe.” My voice sounded weak and brittle to my ears, and I hated it. I didn’t want to be a wounded butterfly in need of saving. Yet that was where I stood, and it was all my fault. Leave it to me to fall for a criminal so dangerous that even my outlaw family didn’t approve.
Maria drove me back to the city, but neither of us said a word. I thought about everything we’d discussed in Enzo’s office. They believed Primo had targeted me, but they didn’t know the truth. I’m the one who had targeted him. He had only hunted me down because I stole from him. His involvement in the cartel was merely circumstantial, but I couldn’t tell them that. Explaining how I’d stolen the lighter would be even more degrading than watching them all scowl at me for simply knowing Primo.
He may be part of something dangerous, but he wasn’t nearly as conniving as they would believe. He had only responded to the situation I had created. Was there a way for me to get that point across without telling them all the sordid details? If there was, the solution escaped me.
I didn’t want to be the family fuckup, but it also killed me to think of not seeing him again. Aside from having the most incredible sex of my life, being with Primo made me feel alive. It was as though I’d been stuck in a holding cell all this time, waiting for my fate to be decided. Seeing him was that verdict I’d been waiting for, but instead of setting me free, it looked like I’d be locked up indefinitely.
My thoughts and feelings were a chaotic jumble. I tried to convince myself I hardly knew the man and couldn’t possibly miss him, but cutting ties with him felt like losing a part of myself. The part that would help me realize my identity. Help me find my place in the world.
Equal parts heartbreak and anger caused tears to cloud my vision.
Never in a million years would I admit I needed a man to complete me. To make me happy. So why was I falling into that trap now? Yes, I was overwhelmingly attracted to Primo, but I didn’t need him. I was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need any man—especially one who could be dangerous to my family or me. It would be selfish to put the people I loved at risk so I could have a relationship. The
re were plenty other men out there. I needed to stop acting like a child.
I wiped my eyes, hoping Maria didn’t notice, then took out my phone. Scrolling to Primo’s name in my contacts, I typed out a message with trembling fingers.
This isn’t going to work. Please stay away from me.
I hit send and tried not to panic.
None of my family knew I had his number, and I wasn’t going to tell. The fact that I’d ended it was all that mattered. Seeing him in my contacts was the one vestige of him I got to keep for myself. That, and his silver lighter would be all I’d have to remind me of the man who lit my soul on fire.
Chapter 10
Primo
I spent the afternoon contemplating what Juan Carlos had asserted about my past. It made sense, no matter how hard it was to admit. My father had been right there in the same house as me, and I’d never known. My mother hid it well. Although, I’d been a child and likely wouldn’t have picked up on changes in her behavior when he was around.
What had their relationship been like? I was certain it had to have been consensual. She talked about her boss highly, even in private. It made me wonder if he cared about her. He’d been married with a family, so he couldn’t acknowledge an affair with one of his staff, but he also didn’t send her away. We were always lucky enough to have money for a car and other treats when others who worked at the house couldn’t afford such luxuries. As a kid, I never questioned it, but now, I wondered if Alvarez didn’t provide for us beyond my mother’s wages.
I’d been told my father was a soldier and had died near the time of my birth. A convenient story, yet so unlike my mother. She was a devout Catholic. My conception and the resulting lies must have weighed on her terribly. Perhaps enough to make a pilgrimage across the country to seek forgiveness at the feet of the Lady of Guadalupe.
Impossible Odds: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 4) Page 7