“I have my answers. It’s time for you to get yours, Leira.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Leira
My father is not pleased.
Been there, done that. This is nothing new for me. The only thing that has changed is that I’m no longer that girl in a woman’s body who was sent to an island convent only a little while ago.
This woman has seen some shit.
And she no longer tolerates any shit.
Enrique, next to me is also changed. Gone is the cynical outlook on life, a life that now has meaning beyond seeking revenge from his father.
Richard Coleman’s many crimes are now being thoroughly investigated. So are those of his known clients, known thanks to an anonymous tip with some very thorough records including names and accounts and routing numbers to various Luxembourg banks.
The focus will no doubt fall on one Constantin Papadopolous, who, for some reason, had an unusually large amount of money sent to him only recently. That was the last of Enrique’s substantial share of money stolen over the years, which he no longer wanted anything to do with. All the better to cut ties with the man who killed his mother.
We’re here in Los Angeles in my father’s study, the same place I so often met him with my tail tucked between my legs after being caught in one scheme or another. This time I’m seated in front of him, legs crossed and back straight.
“We both have a right to know everything, Dad. I think we’ve deserved it. How did you know Richard Coleman?”
“You think just because you run off to Spain together, you have a right to make demands? Do I even want to know what you were up to over there?” The hard look he gives me turns to granite as he shifts his gaze to Enrique.
“Probably not,” I say.
Dad’s eyes snap to me with anger.
“But it’s none of your business.”
His brow lowers, and I can see the fury building. “And yet you think you have a right to know mine?”
“We almost died, Dad,” I say softly. “My mother and two sisters were killed. Enrique’s mother was murdered. So yes, I think we do have a right.”
He holds firm for just a few seconds before sighing and nodding his head. He settles back in his chair and looks off to the side in thought. “I suppose you are right. Secrets are the cause of most of this trouble.”
He sighs again and turns back to us. “I will tell you everything. Then, after this, I will never speak of it again. What happened in the past deserves to be laid to rest there.”
“I’m fine with that,” Enrique says, focused hard on him.
“Me too,” I say.
Dad nods, then begins speaking.
“My success in Mexico, long before moving to America, is not exactly as I told you, mija. I was…involved with the drug cartel. A minor player, I simply got paid to look the other way at the hotel I worked at when negotiations were taking place. This was long before the business became so nasty with such extreme violence. But I could see the writing on the wall.”
I cast a glance to Enrique, whose eyes remain on Dad, but I can see the hint of a gleam in them as he smugly signals how right he was back in that hotel in Ibiza when I told him about my father.
“Then, when I tried to start my own businesses, they blackmailed me into using my stores to help launder some money. I thought selling the stores and taking the money to America would give me a fresh start. But it followed me in a far more grand way. Richard Coleman was the one to reach out to me, using my vulnerable status as a temporary resident as leverage. One call to INS about my less than savory history, and I would not only be deported but put in prison first.”
Dad’s face grows angry. “So I continued to work for them, shipping drugs throughout Latin America.”
Dad’s eyes look off to the side again, and now there is a hint of a smile on his face. “Then, I met your mother. It was at a charity event for the Catholic Church. She was…not only lovely but good and kind-hearted. The most beautiful soul I had ever met. Even her name reflected that, Linda…pretty. I was…enamorado.” The smile grows on his face. “She was not so easily sold. My money and influence meant nothing to her. She had no idea what I truly did for a living. But she did bring me back to the Church.”
“When she finally responded to my affections, I should have known the cloud of deceit I held onto would never let me find peace. I wanted to end it all, cut my ties with the cartel and Richard, start over with a clean slate. But then Lorraine came, then your five sisters…and eventually you,” Dad says, giving me a fond smile.
“I had a family to support. More importantly, a family to protect,” he says firmly. He exhales, and his eyes slide to Enrique “Then the first domino fell.”
Next to me, Enrique sits up straighter, paying closer attention.
“Your mother first came to Los Angeles as a young woman, not even old enough to drink in this country. She was beautiful and hopeful, but this city it has a way of destroying young dreams. She found solace in the Church, and Linda felt a special affinity for her.”
Dad pauses, his eyes falling away from Enrique’s before he brings them back up to face him and continue. “It is my fault that Richard Coleman ever set eyes on her. He was here in Los Angeles on one of his occasional in-person meetings just to make sure I stayed in line. He thought it would be amusing to attend a Catholic charity event with me. A fun lark, he called it.” Dad’s nostrils flare in anger. “I thought it would be harmless enough. He had no reason to ruin things by telling Linda anything about the business I was in.”
His gaze softens as he stares at Enrique. “Unfortunately, Daniela was working at the event. She was a server for the caterer, one of the jobs Linda helped her get into. Once Richard saw her, there was no stopping him. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and he was handsome in his own way and wealthy. Too many temptations for a poor young girl to ignore. He owned her from the start. I could only protest so much before Linda became suspicious, so I hid my reservations about the match. That is something I regret to this day.”
I reach out to take Enrique’s hand. He squeezes mine as he continues to listen.
Dad sits up straighter and gives Enrique a meaningful look. “Which is why when she came back almost six years later she came directly to me. By then, she of course knew what her husband was involved in, and my involvement with him. So she wanted my help to escape.
“She had proof that he had killed a man. When you told her what you had seen that night, she went into his office to collect more evidence. Richard was out, probably discarding the body. She had photos and blood samples.” Dad laughs softly. “She liked to watch a lot of American crime shows.”
He gets serious again. “But it was enough. She wanted me to hold onto it for safekeeping, should something happen to her. She told me where you were and how to get in touch with the convent in case the worst happened.”
So that’s how he knew about the convent island in the first place.
“I had all of it sent to a secret location.” Dad’s eyes fall to me. “At the address I gave to you.”
“And the list of names, account numbers, all the people who worked with my father? That came from you as well?” Enrique asks, boring into him with a piercing gaze.
Dad turns his attention back to him. “Yes. I was aware of your extracurricular activities with computers, and you had no interest in joining your parents’ business. I had no idea what you would do with it, but I thought it a fitting way to avenge your mother, even if you only took it to the authorities.
“Your mother died protecting you, Enrique. And she entrusted your safety to me. I was the one to get in touch with Sister Clara, who is thankfully a third cousin to Daniela; distant enough for Richard to never make the connection. I relayed the urgency of the matter and the suggestion that you take on a new identity so Richard could never find you. Thankfully, she took my advice.”
Enrique nods slowly, still absorbing all of these revelations. I myself am still
wrapping my head around it.
“That is when your mother and sister became collateral damage, Leira.”
This has my attention snapped back to my father with sudden interest.
“Richard made the connection to me. He knew I had the evidence Daniela had given me. Before I could even use it, he had them killed.” Dad pauses, and I sense him cracking, ready to break out in tears. He sucks it up to continue. “I was in a rage. I didn’t want to even bother going to the police. But the forces we worked with—at this point more powerful men than even those in the Mexican cartels—stepped into the picture. I had lost a wife and child, which they could appreciate. This was my opportunity to end my ties with them. The clean slate I’d always wanted. After all, I had six more daughters to protect and take care of. I was free.
“I became a legitimate businessman from that point on. Importing and exporting legal goods. But I always held onto that evidence. When Layla began expressing an interest in working for me, perhaps one day taking over the family business, I told her everything I told you just now, including where the evidence was. In retrospect, it makes sense that Richard would be suspicious that I had told her. The evidence was protection not just for my family and me, but the business as well. Of course, I would want the same protection for her.”
Now, I note a tear fall from his eyes. “Another thing I will never forgive myself for. As for Lucinda…”
Dad looks off to the side in bewilderment. I told him everything about what I learned at Richard’s apartment.
“Like I said, Richard was always a charmer. In retrospect, I wasn’t there for the daughters who still needed me after your mother died. It’s no surprise so many of you acted out. You were too young to be aware of what was happening. But the others, they were all affected in their own way, Lucetta most of all. She was closest to your mother. It’s my fault she turned out the way she did, in and out of rehab.”
“Does she know all of this?”
His brow rises with surprise as though the thought of telling her never occurred to him.
“I think…we can handle the truth, Dad. All of us.” I give him a meaningful stare and, after a moment, he nods with understanding.
“Well, now you know everything, at least,” he says. “I think I…I need a moment to myself, if you don’t mind.”
I look to Enrique and he wordlessly nods.
We stand up, hand in hand and walk out. I lead him outside to the huge backyard where the pool is.
“How are you?” I ask.
Enrique stares up at the intense, summer California sun. “I feel surprisingly…satisfied.”
I stare blankly out at the pool. “So do I.”
Our eyes fall to one another and we laugh a little.
“At least I have something to tell my grandfather about my mother. He should at least be proud she died trying to save me.”
“I think fathers are proud of their daughters no matter what. At least I hope so.”
Enrique chuckles and squeezes my hand. “Something to keep in mind for later.”
I twist my lips with an embarrassed smile.
“So, what now?” he asks.
It can be interpreted a number of ways, I suppose. But I’m hungry, so I pick that one.
“Now, I get to introduce you to the food of my people. We’ll start with In-n-Out hamburgers and animal style fries.”
“Animal style fries?”
“Trust me, it’s worth it.”
“Okay,” he says with a grin. “But I was speaking more...futuristically.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Interpret as you wish,” he says, his gaze holding mine.
“Well, I have one more year of college left.”
“I could think of a few ways to fill those study breaks.”
I laugh. “Does that mean you are staying here in California with me this year?”
“Maybe even moving in together.”
“Dad would kill us.”
“I suppose I’d better convince him of my honorable intentions then.”
We stand there like two stupid lovebirds already picturing the trouble we could get into together.
Let the adventure continue.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The Wedding
It takes place on a perfect October day, just after the local festivals are winding down from harvest season. It’s a casual affair, no big fuss, either in terms of dress or adherence to tradition.
The leaves on the vine at the Abaroa Vineyard are still vibrant with bursts of orange, russet, red, and gold.
We love the azure hues of the sea, and make a point to visit whenever we can, whether it’s the cool waters off the beaches in Los Angeles or the warm, clear sea edging the coasts of Ibiza and Barcelona. Occasionally one small, hidden lagoon.
But there’s something about these warm, vibrant tones that always call to us, making us feel like we’ve reached a place to call home.
It was only fitting that this be where we made our vows to each other.
It wasn’t in a Catholic Church, but we felt Him watching over the ceremony with approval all the same. How could He ever deny the pure and honest, heartfelt love between the two of us?
Especially with so many witnesses there to observe.
My four remaining sisters, who I’ve spent the past year healing with, righting wrongs, understanding passions, overcoming adversities, are now his sisters as well.
My former team, men who were with me through it all, the only brothers I’ve ever known, are now her allies, there in a pinch if we should ever need them.
My father is his father.
My grandfather is her grandfather.
My family is his.
My family is hers.
Those, along with friends, loved ones, and strangers who just happened to be passing through are all here from various points on the map, California to Germany, Democratic Republic of the Congo to Monte Carlo. Even a special guest from one tiny island that most people in the world don’t even know exists.
They’ve come to see us unite from two into one.
Two curious wanderers who have finally found their place in the world.
Epilogue
“You found me,” I say, smiling at Enrique as he makes his way up the hill to join me before the sun comes up. My Spanish no longer carries an accent, not after all these years.
“I am somewhat of an expert at finding precious treasure,” my husband says with a wicked grin that still fills my veins with a rush of heat.
It’s our favorite spot, especially this early in the morning. Like the former owner of this vineyard, I enjoy coming up here before the winery becomes active. Enrique and I had a bench placed here not too long after we moved into the big house.
“You only call me treasure when you want to be bad,” I scold as he sits next to me.
“Well, it is our anniversary. We should commemorate it. Let’s scandalize the staff.”
He leans his head down to nuzzle my neck, jostling the chain that still holds the same gold cross I was wearing when I met him.
I laugh and slap him on the shoulder. He chuckles against my throat but pulls away.
“I don’t think they’ll be so much scandalized as they will be horrified.”
“By what? Two people who are still in love? We’ve still got it. Perhaps they can learn a thing or two.”
I laugh again.
He still drives me crazy, either with irritation, amusement, or passion. And yes, we do still have it.
The sun rises past the mountains and we watch the post-harvest vineyard burst into colors as the rays touch the leaves.
“I suppose that makes it official,” Enrique says, taking my hand in his.
“Fifty years,” I say with a smile.
We both became the Abaroas the same day we took our vows not too far from this spot, but we were tied to this place long before that.
Our wedding day is still a thrilling and vivid memory in my head. Many
of the faces that joined us that day have long since passed away, leaving mostly fond memories. And many new faces have come into the picture, including six children, seventeen grandchildren, and our first great-grandchild.
Today, almost all of those new and remaining old faces will be joining us to celebrate in the big house. It will be nice to have them there again. It will remind me of those chaotic days of having a full house of babies, children, and troublesome teens again.
We’ve never so much as hinted that any of our children or grandchildren will be responsible for taking over this vineyard when Enrique and I are gone. But this will always be a home for them, should they wish to return.
Gabriela, one of our grandchildren who is about to start university, has begun to show a particular interest in winemaking, which is promising. Then again, it may just be Alejandro, who works here seasonally when he’s home for the summer, that has piqued her interest.
This place does have a way of bringing people together.
“Let’s go before they think we’ve run off together,” I say.
“Hmm, that would be a fine way to celebrate our anniversary,” Enrique says with a grin. “We can make it to Barcelona before it gets too crowded. I’ll buy a pitcher of sangria, get you drunk enough to take off your pretty dress, and watch you dive into the waves.”
I laugh and shake my head. “That truly would horrify people.”
“Nonsense, you still turn me on,” he says, leaning in to nuzzle my neck yet again.
This time, my laughter is softer. His lips still have a way of lowering my defenses, leading me down a path of wickedness that I know I’ll have no regrets about.
Let them be scandalized.
* * *
The sun is starting to make its creep toward the western horizon, the cusp just about to touch it, and the party is winding down. It was a wonderful affair, full of love and laughter and cheerfulness. A fine way to start the next fifty years together.
Spanish Pirate: A BWWM International Legacies Romance Page 26