Though he wanted nothing more to rip the man’s still beating heart out of his chest and shove it down his throat, Reyes remained seated and merely raised an eyebrow as though he were listening to an interesting story.
Clearly annoyed that he was getting no reaction Benito’s words became more clipped. “Ignacio’s second, Diego, has reported her death to me… but the rumours…”
“And why exactly would rumours bother you?” Reyes asked negligently. “Indeed, why order her death at all? A woman of her standing? She was nothing to you, just the wife of a pig.”
Benito chuckled and nodded his head. This was the kind of language he understood. His lack of respect for women was renowned. He had no wives himself and simply fathered children illegitimately, building his cartel with as much of his own blood as he could. “I couldn’t have anyone discover the truth of his pet.”
Reyes picked his glass up on the pretext of having a drink, but used it to hide the shaking of his hand as rage throbbed through his veins, threatening to erupt and fuck all of their fine plans. As he lowered the glass, her hand wrapped around his and steadied him. Their eyes met and her steady green gaze told him to hold it together, grounding him in that moment. He’d gotten to know facets of this woman over the past three days. She was kind, steady and determined. She was willing to sacrifice much for her family. She helped calm the rage and reminded him of his duty.
Reyes turned to their host once more and asked in a careless voice, “I am curious. Do please tell me why you are so interested in Hernandez’s pet and why my woman’s resemblance to her or lack thereof should matter so much to you?”
Benito stared in utter consternation as though he’d expected fireworks and gotten a wet fizzle instead. Then he laughed, shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his seat with hands folded over his belly. “Ah, the rumours must have been wrong then. My mistake, amigo,” he announced and took a bite of cheese. “You see, this Casey, she has been a thorn in my side for years. She should have died many years ago when I ordered her parents taken out.”
“Interesting,” Reyes said. “Well I can assure you that this woman is not now, nor was she ever, Casey Hernandez. But out of curiosity, why did you have this family killed… the ah, Hernandez woman’s family?”
“Business,” Benito replied with a shrug. “Her father ran the mafia up in Florida for many years. Ignacio had his small piece but wasn’t satisfied. He came to me with a plan to take the boss out and take his business, provide me with cheaper trade routes, easier, less dangerous ways into the US. All I needed to do in return was provide some firepower for the hit. He was a little squeamish about taking out the whole family, apparently had a thing for the girl. Was even set to marry her, but that isn’t our way.”
Reyes breathed hard through his nose and forced himself to release the muscles in his shoulders before Benito noticed anything unusual. He curled his lips back in a semi-smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a snarl. “And why exactly take out a bunch of harmless kids?”
“It is our belief that when you remove the head of the family, you need to extinguish the entire family line so the young don’t grow up and exact bloody revenge for the death of a parent. It might seem callous, but it only makes sense.”
They heard the clicking of her heels against the stone floor before the beautiful blond appeared in the arched doorway. Benito looked around then; it was clear by the surprise in his eyes that he finally noticed that his guards posted in each archway were missing. He scrambled to his feet reaching for the gun at his belt. Several of his men did the same, some clumsy and some lethally fast depending on their level of confusion and skill. It didn’t matter. They were surrounded by men loyal to Casey and Reyes.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Reyes drawled lazily, his own gun pointed directly at Benito’s heart before Benito could even draw. Reyes nodded at one of his men who relieved the Mexican boss of his pistol and stepped away from the table.
Casey continued into the room, her four inch heels striking the stone with a lethal finality in each step before she stopped at the edge of the table opposite Benito. She was dressed to impress in silver heels and a snow-white halter dress that flowed around her hips with each step she took. She wore her white-blond hair in long, loose ringlets; old Hollywood style. On her wrists and throat she wore the diamonds Reyes had gifted her on the plane trip over. Held loosely in her right hand against the fold of her skirt was her silver gun. Her eyes, one green and one amber, were glowing with anticipation.
Benito looked from Casey to the woman who had been sitting next to Reyes, the woman introduced as Reyes’ wife. “I don’t understand,” he said.
Reyes swept his hand toward Casey. “No Benito, you do not. This woman is my wife. I trust she is sufficiently stunning?” Reyes asked with a small smirk, as though he was now the one revealing a secret weapon.
“Casey Hernandez,” Benito said darkly.
She nodded, her eyes on the man responsible for the murder of her family. “You weren’t careful enough, were you Benito? You didn’t clean up after yourself; didn’t make sure I died with the rest of my family. Shame on you for being so sloppy.”
He grunted. “Stupid mistake; allowing Hernandez to keep you when you didn’t fall with the rest.” He collapsed back into his chair, staring at her with some hostility, but mostly awe, as though he were seeing a beautiful ghost conjured from the pits of his deepest memories. “So much like your mother,” he mumbled, then seemed to catch himself and straighten. “Ignacio begged me to allow you to live when you pulled through the initial surgeries. It was a stupid sentimentality, but I was superstitious too, you see? Figured if you survived a bullet to the brain, maybe it was meant to be. Perhaps you were not meant to die with the rest of the Palmieri’s. You were always a truly stunning child with those strange eyes; the way you could look right through a person.”
She blinked slowly. “I don’t remember you,” she murmured almost absently.
She placed her hands on the table, listening to his story with rapt attention. Her gun clinked against the heavily polished wood. She’d had weeks to come to terms with the death of her family and indeed with his words, the replay in her head came slower, less like the mad rush of a movie clip that wouldn’t stop and more like a slow replay of a black and white film where all the players knew their places. A beautiful ache built in her chest as he spoke because she finally knew how the movie began and how it ended. It started as a horror film, but somehow ended in romance. Her eyes drifted to Reyes where he watched her with rapt possession, his attention unwavering. He’d brought her to this moment and he would carry her through.
Her gaze shifted back to the demon in the shadows, the man that had orchestrated her suffering and brought about the downfall of the Miami Palmieri’s. He looked so much smaller in real life than she’d built him up to be in her imagination. He wore a suit, like most of the men at the table. His was light-coloured, she thought, open at the neck and collar with a pocket kerchief. He was likely in his sixties or seventies; his build was slim and he was balding. Now her man, her beautiful Reyes, he could easily carry the mantle of monster with his bold, broad and bloodthirsty presence.
“Go on,” she encouraged, “tell us what happened after you allowed Ignacio to keep me.”
Benito glared at the beautiful blond apparition and then said viciously, “I ordered the death of any in your immediate line. Though Ignacio begged for children, I told him to make sure there were none. That one or both of you be rendered sterile. I didn’t care who as long as there were no children.”
She nodded. “You ordered the death of my baby, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I did,” he said, some of his smugness returning. “I couldn’t have a Palmieri spawn rise up and come after me one day. In fact, a few months ago, I’d decided you were too much of a risk. One of my Miami contacts brought me the news that you were beginning to fight against your chains, refuse your medications and talk back to your bodyguards. I couldn’t have that
.”
Casey had begun to suspect the truth of what had happened to baby Jack. His confirmation, though a knife twist to the heart, didn’t cause her to so much as flinch in surprise. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She took her hands off the table and began walking around the seated men, who were watching the proceedings apprehensively, helpless to do anything but sit and witness the drama unfold, Reyes’ surrounding men ensuring compliance. Before she could reach Benito the lovely blond at Reyes side stood gracefully from the table to intercept Casey. No one moved to stop her.
Casey’s face softened and she smiled holding her arms out. “Gina.”
Gina side-stepped the gun held carelessly in Casey’s hand and went easily into her embrace. Though they’d had barely a few days to get to know each other, Sotza had gifted the two women with each other’s existence. Ten years earlier when the mafia world had been rocked by the brutal deaths of the Palmieri family, a single living relative, a teenaged cousin, had been whisked off the continent and into safe-keeping, essentially forgotten since she had no other family and had never been considered a direct threat. Except for Sotza, few even knew of her existence. She had been living an uneventful and lonely life in central America and was overjoyed to reconnect with a cousin she thought dead.
“If you don’t mind, cousin, I’d prefer to leave for this part,” Gina murmured, pulling away from Casey with a grimace. “Much as I’d like to see this little worm squirm, I’m afraid I’ve never really developed the stomach for this sort of thing.”
“Of course, I’ll wait until you’re safely away,” Casey said kindly and, indeed waited for the other woman to make her way out of the dining room before she continued along the table. She stopped next to Reyes and placed her free hand on his shoulder.
Reyes wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight against his side, breathing her scent. It had been a long few days without her, trusting Alejandro to keep her safe while they gathered reinforcements among cartels loyal to Reyes, ones that were willing to make a move against Benito. Now it was hell watching her stand tall against the man that had destroyed her family and not take the gun from her and kill every disloyal man in the room. But this was her moment, her time to reign.
She was staring down at the jewel encrusted skull with a sort of fascinated horror, before lifting her gaze to Benito’s. “The eyes, Reyes… what colour are they?”
“Green, nena,” he told her.
“Like my mother’s.”
She lifted the gun and pointed it at Benito’s head. Reyes knew she was a damn good shot. He’d made sure of it before they’d come into Mexico.
“Say her name,” she demanded.
Benito glared and for a moment and it looked as though he would refuse, but finally he mumbled. “Sandra.”
Tears glittered in Casey’s eyes and she sniffled and said, “Sandra Palmieri.” Then she turned the gun on the skull and pulled the trigger sending shards of skull and jewels flying across the table. Her bullet went right through the skull and struck the man sitting on the opposite side of the table right through the heart. He slumped in his chair without making a sound.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Casey gaped at the dead man, stunned.
“Holy crap, I didn’t mean to do that!” she squeaked and turned horrified eyes on Reyes. “Was he one of ours?”
Reyes chuckled darkly and gave her hip a reassuring pat. “No, nena, my guys are all standing in position.” His eyes cut to Benito and lingered in disgust. “Real professionals expect an ambush at any moment, especially when hosting an unknown. All these motherfuckers belong to the head of the table. This party belongs to you; shoot at will.”
A slow grin spread across her face and she flung her arms around Reyes. He swung her into his lap and kissed her hard on the mouth, slipping his tongue across her lips, demanding access to the treasure within. She opened eagerly and pressed herself against him, heedless of their audience.
Reyes pulled back slightly, his hand tangled in her hair, gripping her hard. “I missed you, Casey. Was the longest three days of my fucking life. Don’t you ever fucking leave me again, understand?”
She smiled against him and nodded, ignoring the painful tug in her scalp. “Yes, Reyes. Never again.” She was about to kiss him again when a loud bang startled her and she jumped in Reyes’ lap and craned her head around to look at Benito who’d brought this fist angrily down on the table.
“Get on with it, whatever this is,” Benito sneered. “I don’t intend to watch the last Palmieri bitch whore herself at my table. I’d rather go to hell.”
Casey felt Reyes stiffen beneath her and reach for the gun he’d placed on the table within easy reach. She ran her fingers lightly down his arm soothing the rage that surfaced so easily on her behalf. Though she loved his protectiveness, this was her party.
“You’re absolutely right!” she looked back at Reyes. “Let’s not be rude, mi rey. Let’s get this party started.” She gave him her best, most cock-hardening grin and leapt from his lap.
She sauntered around the table, white dress swishing around her long legs, blond hair moving with perfect movie star precision as though she were walking a red carpet. The only thing out of place was the silver gun, which fitted perfectly in the palm of her hand. Reyes had a skull etched into the handle with a rose in place of one of the eyes. Her bloodthirsty Bolivian had true romance in his heart.
Every pair of male eyes in the room watched her with rapt attention as she walked behind Benito. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and bent to speak in his ear while he tensed under her touch.
Before she could speak, Reyes sent her a warning look and growled from across the table, “No touching, nena. We talked about how this would go down.”
She rolled her eyes and straightened with a sigh backing away from the Mexican she’d marked for death, hands in the air. “No fun,” she mumbled.
“Casey,” Reyes warned, standing. “Roll your eyes at me again and your fun is over entirely.”
She smiled big and turned back to her prey, wandering around to where Benito could still see her, but sticking to the rules Reyes had discussed with her and staying out of arm’s reach. Reyes had come to stand behind her, arms crossed, to enforce his rule if need be. “Let’s make this quick, Benito, since I sense my man is getting impatient. He prefers cartel justice, long drawn out torture sessions as opposed to my American style of shoot em’ up and spit em’ out.” She glanced at the guy slumped in his chair opposite the shattered skull. “I jumped the gun on him a little, if you’ll excuse the pun.”
“What the fuck do you want with me, puta,” Benito snarled turning to look at her. “Just get it the fuck over with.”
“Oh!” she laughed, her high airy laugh sounding somewhat off-balanced but still beautiful as it echoed through the room. “It won’t be that easy! You destroyed my world, took everything I love because of your disgusting tradition of killing the entire family. Now I take the things you love, Benito.” She tapped her gun against her cheek and pretended to think about it, then she started listing the names of his family, all the illegitimate children he’d fathered. “Let me see now… there’re the children tucked safely in their beds: Santiago, Matias, Rosario, Renata, Juan Paul, Juanita. That’s a lot of fun I’m going to be having avenging my familia Benito,” she finished with a giggle.
Then her eyes turned glacial and all humour fled her face. “Of course, I’m forgetting a few, aren’t I, Benny? The ones that are old enough to sit at papa’s table and do business.” He stiffened in his chair, horror bleeding into his expression as she leaned in as close as she dared, and whispered, “Benito Jr.”
She straightened her arm and pointed it down the table, two spots to the right of Benito, straight at a man in his early thirties. Her arm shook a little; not in fear or doubt, but with emotion. Her time for vengeance had finally come and she was utterly and completely elated. Reyes stepped up behind her, his warmth filling her with strength. H
e wrapped a strong arm around her waist and simply held her as she turned her head, pinned the man to his chair, promised him death with a single look and then escorted him into hell with a single shot to the head.
The men on either side of the now dead man flinched but didn’t move otherwise, knowing they would be dead before they leapt from their chairs. Reyes’ men surrounded the entire macabre party and though they kept their distance, ensured the politeness of all guests.
Benito howled in rage and fury as grief erupted from him and he slammed his fists down on the table. He jumped to his feet, toppling his chair over. Spittle flew from his lips as he turned toward Casey and lunged, snarling, “You fucking whore, do you know what you’ve done!”
Reyes dragged her back at the same time as Casey shot Benito in the stomach, sending the older man flying backwards off his feet. He landed on his back and then curled onto his side clutching his stomach with a groan of pain. Casey dropped to her knees beside him, indifferent to the blood that was soaking into the hem of her white skirt. She gripped his arm and spoke almost manically, “You see, Benito? You see, now! It hurts to lose family like this, doesn’t it?” She tapped her gun against the side of her head and flinched a little when the heated metal brushed her temple. “Bullets hurt, Benny!”
“You fucking lunatic cunt, get the fuck away from me!” Benito shoved her back, his bloody hands leaving prints on her pale skin.
Casey jumped to her feet, rocking back on her sky-high heels and glared down at him. “I don’t think you get it at all!” she snapped. “But you will, you have two more sons here. Renaldo and Santiago sit at this table too.”
“No, no! Please!” Benito screamed and tried to grab her, clutching at her skirt.
Casey kicked him away and turned back to the table. A struggle was taking place as Renaldo desperately tried to leave the table while two of Reyes’ men held him down. Santiago sat stoically drinking wine next to his brother. Casey knew he was her age. She’d done her homework. She might have admired his bravery, might have even allowed him to live for his simple audacity, except he’d known of the hits on her family and she’d traced countless others to his name. Children. He was a child killer.
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