Te amo.
That pulls me further out of my current lull. From there, I remember the policeman who took me away. We were walking, going into a building and… That’s when it went dark.
I force my eyes open to get a look at him. It’s mostly my intuition that has me guessing who he is. But there’s something in the dented chin and jawline and the curl of his lips, which is handsomely devilish in his son. In Richard Coleman, it just comes off as malevolent.
He’s good looking in a predatory way. I can see how a young woman from Spain trying to make her way in America could fall prey to that expensive suit, thick head of hair, green eyes, and a greasy smile. She probably was thrilled someone so seemingly important was giving her the time of day. Maybe somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was bad business, but she had a defiant soul, the kind that threw caution to the wind for the sake of a thrilling adventure.
Until she was in too deep to get out.
“I can see you’ve figured out who I am, but just in case, I’ll make my introductions. Richard Coleman.”
I use what has worked for me thus far: silence.
He studies me, waiting me out, then seems amused when it’s obvious that I’m not going to talk.
We’re in an office. It has the feel of old-fashioned wealth, with dark wood paneling and leather-bound books filling the shelves. There’s a small bar with a decanter of something amber-hued off to one side, half-full. A large globe stands in one corner, which I’m sure is there just for effect. The shutters to the windows are adjusted in such a way that all I see are thin lines of a dark sky, so I have no idea where I am. For all I know, I could still be in Spain.
Richard leans back in his large leather chair and forks his hands over his stomach as he assesses me.
“And you are Leira Montoya, which I find to be the most interesting coincidence in all of this. I don’t particularly like coincidences; they have a habit of blowing up in your face.”
Even if I was inclined to talk, I’m not exactly sure what he expects me to say in the face of that. I don’t like coincidences either, even if I am still half-clueless about all of this.
“But here you are Leira, daughter of Pablo Montoya, a man with whom I have a very interesting history. And apparently, you’ve been spending the past week with my son.”
I make the mistake of blinking in surprise. How the hell does he know that?
That cruel mouth twists into a sneer. “You’re wondering how I know that? Maybe even wondering what my history with your father is?”
My head screams with curiosity until I realize that neither much matters in the present moment. All I can do is think about Layla, and at this point, Lucinda. She must be dead if he’s moved on to kidnapping me.
“Well, Leira, one thing I’ve learned over the years is that information is priceless. It’s far more valuable than money. Sometimes more valuable than life itself,” he says, giving me a cold look with those green eyes that look nothing like Enrique’s.
“For example, your father has information that once cost your sister her life.”
I almost scream out in anger. Yes, I could have easily figured out that this man is the enemy of my father, the one who kidnapped my sisters, and be certain of the fact that he was the one who killed her. Having him admit it so blithely, as though confessing nothing more than having a second helping of dessert, makes me want to rip his damn throat out so it’s the last thing he ever says.
“So the question is, Leira, what information do you have for me?”
I simply stare at him, my expression as dull as possible. If he thinks simply asking is going to work on me, he’s sorely mistaken. His own son was far more persuasive an interrogator and even he didn’t get an answer until I wanted to give him one.
A grin spreads Richard’s face, evolving into a laugh. The hands crossed over his stomach rise and fall with it. “Too easy?”
My face remains impassive.
“I see,” he says, still with a smile on his face. “I understand the value of quid pro quo. Why should you give me anything, when I’ve given you nothing?”
I remain still, wondering what he has that could possibly be of interest to me.
He opens the laptop sitting on his desk and logs in. After typing a few more keys and hiding the touchpad, he spins it around for me.
Lucinda!
She’s in an empty room, wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. A cloth gag is tied around her head and her hands and ankles are both bound. Her hair, which is more wavy than curly like mine is, is a mess, probably from struggling so hard like she is now.
Both my breath and my heartbeat accelerate at the fact that she’s still alive, and the fear of what he plans on doing with her if I don’t tell him anything.
My eyes dart back up to him and find his gleaming with satisfaction. Now, I want to rip those out as well.
“I’m going to assume I don’t have to spell it out for you, Leira. You already know I’m capable of murder. Your mother and sister were a warning to your father. Layla was just uncooperative. So, tell me what I want to know, the secret your father told you to keep, or the next of your kin dies.”
Now, I do lash out. With my fingers curled into claws, I jump out of my chair and leap across the desk. The brief look of complete and utter surprised horror on his face is almost as satisfying as the trail of blood my nails leave across his cheek before my hands make their way to his throat.
In retrospect, it would have been smarter to grab something heavy to hit him with instead. I manage one quick squeeze before he knocks me away like a rag doll. My back hits the desk hard, and the pain radiates up my spine. Before I can drop to the floor, he sends me there with a slap so hard I see stars. My head hits the hardwood floor with a thud that I’m sure will leave a bump.
“You stupid bitch!” he roars.
My head has stopped spinning enough for me to see his hand fly up to his face and pull it away, enraged to find blood there.
I stupidly smile, knowing it will only make him angrier. I’m beyond caring. I know that even if I tell him what he wants to know, he’ll kill both me and Lucinda. What use are we to him after that?
“You could have made this so much easier. Now I have to make it hard for you,” he growls, before kicking me hard in the stomach.
I gasp but the air is too busy leaving my lungs now that my stomach feels like it’s been completely displaced. I curl in on myself in recovery and to protect me from the second kick that comes, which lands against the side of my head.
That’s when the world goes black for me once again.
Chapter Fifty-One
Enrique
After leaving my parents’ house, I used the information I had to make the quickest phone call. Walter Hanson was an easier search since I didn’t even know the first name of Leira’s father.
Ten o’clock p.m. on a weekend, California time. It was no wonder I got a message service for the lawyer’s work phone number. Still, I left a message: This is the man who has been with Leira Montoya this past week. I need to get an urgent message to her father. I think she might be in danger.
After that, using what Leira had told me about her father, I finally found a name, but the only number was to his shipping company. I left the same message there.
That, along with my phone number, should be enough for a call back as soon as he listens to it. Even if Leira is safe with him, despite my fears, her father should at least be curious enough to pick up the phone, if only to read me the riot act.
In the meantime, I’m meeting with my crew to finalize this plan. We’re in the private room of a bar in a fairly large metropolitan city, a place where it’s easy enough to get lost in the sea of tourists, especially this time of year. I’ve gone a more roundabout way than usual, if only to avoid any tails who might still be following me. No need to compromise my crew.
As usual, we meet over beers and food, paying with cash only. It’s typically a combination strategy session and re
union. This time, being as it’s been less than a month since the last one, the reunion is a bit pointless. We’ve hardly had a chance to forget each other.
I look around at Ulrich, Deigo, Francis, and Tiago. “This will be the last one. We’re skipping ahead to the final target.”
They all give me solemn looks as they absorb that. It’s the one they’ve been expecting for a while, one final heist.
“We need to do this before the end of the week.”
This has them sitting up straighter and giving me incredulous looks.
“You’re kidding,” Ulrich says with a crooked smile.
“I’ve been planning this since we first began. I have it all mapped out. All we need to do is execute it.”
“Why the rush?” Diego asks.
I’ve never lied to them, and I’m not about to now.
“I’ve been compromised.”
This gets the expected reaction of outrage, concern, and accusation.
“So, you’re saying we could be under surveillance right now?” Tiago argues.
“I was careful. Besides, if they wanted us arrested or dead, we would be.”
“Who is they?” Ulrich asks, posing the important question to cut through the bullshit.
“Constantin. It was the earrings. They had a tracker on them.”
Once again, the outrage comes.
“But really, who the hell does that?” Francis points out.
“Someone who is fucking greedy. There’s more,” I say, taking a breath before continuing. “Richard Coleman most likely knows about me.”
I reveal to them the same information I learned from my parents.
“You are putting us all at risk, and what for?” Ulrich asks, still in that easy tone of voice he always works with. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“There is a woman I care about who may be in danger,” I say without hesitation, looking each of them dead in the eye with the challenge.
A few of them balk, but they are smart enough to keep it to themselves.
“There is also the lion’s share of the money that will come out of this one,” I continue, keeping them focused on the bottom line. “The information we get alone will be enough to set you all up should you wish to continue on…without me.”
“You’re the tech guy,” Francis points out. “You know how to do all that behind the scenes shit.”
“So ask yourselves, do you really want to spend the rest of your lives being thieves? Right now, you are worth more than even the wealthiest people in the world. I can get you through this one, but after that…you should think about what you really want in life. I’ve found mine.”
“Love does not inspire confidence,” Ulrich points out.
“But it does inspire determination on my end,” I say, giving him an even look. “It’s also going to make this easier.”
“How?” Tiago asks, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Because, if the situation is what I think it is, Richard Coleman is going to invite me to walk through the front door.”
* * *
The first call comes from Pablo Montoya himself.
“Who the fuck are you, and where the fuck is my daughter?”
Although I knew in my heart that Leira wasn’t safely at home with her father, it still seizes with fear that she’s most definitely in the hands of Richard Coleman.
“My name is Enrique Marín,” I say, then listen closely for any indication that the name is familiar to him. I’m still ninety percent certain he’s the one who originally sent me the information about my biological father’s clients.
The long pause that follows tells me all I need to know.
“It was you who sent me the information about Richard Coleman.”
“How did you meet my daughter?” he snaps instead of confirming that fact.
I grin, despite the circumstances. “It was actually she who found me.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks angrily, as though I’m teasing him with some game.
“Back at the Santa María de Atlántica Convento?”
That earns me another pause before he speaks again. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Do you have my daughter or not?”
“No,” I say, suddenly impatient with this conversation when there are plans to be acted upon. “I think we both know where Leira is. Trust me, when this is all over, we can have a nice chat. In the meantime, I’m going to handle it.”
He coughs out a sharp laugh. “When this is all over, you will be lucky if you still have your cojones attached. And in the meantime, I already have people working to get her back from Richard.”
“I think my plan will be more effective.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m going to walk right through Richard Coleman’s front door, get Leira back, and then kill him.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Leira
I come-to to the sound of muffled shouting. My eyes open fully when I see the source through my squinted gaze.
“Lucinda!” I exclaim, sitting up.
The act has my head pounding again and I close my eyes, taking a moment for it to ease away. It isn’t just my head that hurts. My body aches in a way that makes me think maybe Richard got a few more kicks in while I was knocked out.
Bastard.
I take a breath and focus. Lucinda is thankfully still alive, and I plan on keeping it that way. Somehow.
In the meantime, she’s still tied up, but I’m unbound for some reason. I slide across the floor, hissing at the pain that screams from my midsection, back, and various parts of my legs.
“Thank god!” She gasps when I untie the gag from her mouth. There’s an indented mark rounding out from either side of her lips, slightly darker than her toffee-colored skin, a few shades lighter than mine. It must have been in there good and tight. No wonder she couldn’t work it free herself.
Some rush of emotion overcomes me, and I hug my sister, thinking about what this must have been like for her all this time. The things that sadist must have put her through. Lucinda is most definitely the prettiest of the Montoya sisters, at least in my opinion. There’s something sultry in the tilt of her eyes and the way she cocks a smile.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” she says in a raspy voice. “But I’d feel better with these bindings off.”
“Of course,” I say, hurriedly removing them.
She flexes her hands and rotates her feet as though trying to get the blood flowing again.
“What’s it been like here for you?” I ask in a hesitant voice. If it was really bad, she probably doesn’t want to talk about it. And I’m not sure I want to know.
She slides her eyes to me and finally seems to notice the bumps and bruises. “I guess you already know firsthand.”
“How did you hold out? Keep from telling him what Dad said? I don’t think I can stand weeks of this.”
“You didn’t tell him?” she asks in surprise, once again eyeing my injuries.
“Of course not.”
She looks ahead to stare at the wall and nods, then she whispers, “Good.”
I feel slightly pleased at that. Lucinda has always been the smart and tough one. Or maybe I just feel that way because I spent the most time around her growing up while the others were off doing their Older Sister stuff.
“We have to stick together. Make sure they can’t get anything out of us,” she insists, whipping her head back to face me. “We need to come up with a lie to give him just in case he does something that inadvertently makes us talk.”
I nod, agreeing that’s a good idea.
“But I want to make sure we have the same information. Dad might have told me something completely different from what he told you.”
“Why would he tell me something different?” I ask, feeling slightly offended. Yes, Lucinda is probably better suited to head a large corporation, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less trustworthy.
&
nbsp; “The information could have changed since Richard took me.”
I relax, realizing that could be a possibility.
“So what did Dad tell you?”
I open my mouth to speak before catching myself. There’s a reason I stayed silent in the first place. I look up toward the camera that relayed the first images I saw of my sister.
“The camera?” Lucinda asks, following my gaze. “I don’t see a microphone.”
“They could still be listening. In fact, I’d bet on it. Why else would they put me in the same room as you with no gag.”
She continues to stare at the camera, her face growing angry. I don’t blame her. Everything about this situation is a violation in the worst way. At least I still have my dress on.
“So just whisper it.”
“We can’t take the chance.”
“Don’t be silly, Leira.”
“I’m not being silly, Lucinda,” I retort. How the hell doesn’t she see how reckless that would be? What does it even matter if our secrets are the same? “Besides, hopefully it won’t be an issue.”
“What does that mean?”
I just smile, not wanting to give anything away. By now, my father must have realized I’ve been taken, and he knows the man responsible. No doubt the calvary will be coming soon enough.
So why is Lucinda still here weeks after she was taken?
A wrinkle of doubt tests my will. Why would he wait so long to try and rescue her? When Layla was taken, the house was complete madness in the attempt to first figure out who had taken her, and then try and do something about it. Unfortunately, she was dead before that could happen. It’s been well over a month since Lucinda was taken. Surely by now, someone with Dad’s resources would have at least had Richard questioned, and that’s after resorting to more direct means of getting her back.
“What does that mean, Leira?” Lucinda repeats, giving me a hard look.
Spanish Pirate: A BWWM International Legacies Romance Page 23