Chapter Eight
If you are to have peace with God, there must be war with Satan
~ C.H. Spurgeon
Greer
January 28th
“We’re going to your nana’s birthday party today, right?” Leti asks from behind the counter.
I nod, “Yeah, she’s turning the big ninety.”
“Wow. What a blessing. I’m sure your godparents are thrilled. I mean, to make it that far in life without any issues. It just doesn’t happen these days.” Leti smiles as she finishes wrapping foil around the flan. My nana loves it when she makes flan for her, so Leti will make a fresh batch and prep it, always bringing enough to feed her for days.
“They are. We’re all really lucky.” I speak from the heart. My godparents raised Sloane and I in the backwoods of rural Idaho, and as soon as we turned eighteen, we moved to Los Angeles where I got a modeling contract. I ended up meeting Jordan and worked with him on that formalwear campaign, and I’m one of the brand ambassadors for his sister-in-law’s natural beauty company. Since then, I’ve been working more and more for different campaigns across the world. To say they weren’t a fan of us leaving the nest isn’t accurate. They begged us not to, saying we’ve gotten this far in life because we flew under the radar.
Sloane was actually the one who stood up for us, saying that we’ve barely been living, how we couldn’t keep hiding anymore and needed to go out into the world. They didn’t like it, but it didn’t matter. We were doing it regardless. It just so happened that Leti was going to school around the same time, so we came up with a plan to live together and we always knew our uncle Alejandro would have men hidden in plain sight watching us. Leti is his prized baby girl, so he’d never risk anything happening to her.
We flew into Idaho yesterday and Sloane is still asleep from the horrific jetlag. She’s not used to flying since she doesn’t do it too often. Whereas Leti and I can’t say the same. I started bringing her with me on trips a couple months back. The first one I brought her to tag along was a shoot for Brooklyn’s—who’s Jordan’s sister-in-law—new beauty products. She developed a moisturizing concealer and foundation for those with dry skin, and a plumping lip gloss. I was shooting for the launch and Brooklyn saw Leti and had an entire team come over to her. Little did I know she was in the process of developing a new line of foundation colors for darker skin tones. She was having a hard time finding the right faces to represent the shades, but Leti was the missing piece she needed to find. Since then, Leti’s gotten jobs with a few of the brands I represent.
“Yeah, I would’ve loved to meet my abuela.” Leti’s expression falls, showing a bit of sadness. She’s not the type who ever really lets others know how she’s feeling, so I don’t make any comments. She’s kind of an ice queen when I think about it, or the typical Cartel princess. My uncle isn’t the head of the Mexican Cartel, but his brother was until very recently. Leti shakes her head, pushing whatever she’s thinking deep down. “I think this is great, how she lets you call her Nana and all. I don’t know if I’ve ever said it, but I think it’s so sweet.”
“Yeah, but she’s sweet. You know?” I smile as Leti smiles back, pulling the plate of flan into her hands.
There’s not a moment that I don’t realize this could’ve been worse. I might’ve been spending most of my life with people who dreaded they had to be my and Sloane’s glorified babysitters, but there’s not a moment where I’m not grateful for who I ended up with, even though I secretly wish I never had to leave my parents in the first place.
I yearn to know my father, to see what he looks like, how he laughs. I want to know if he likes buffalo chicken, and if he hates red wine, too. It might seem like the littlest thing to some, but Sloane and I were never able to know him. Not really and I’ve had enough of that. Today, I plan on telling my godparents I’m ready to meet him. How I’m going to head to Ireland in a few weeks and meet the man himself, Desmond Mackenzie. They’re going to try to talk me out of it, but I won’t let them.
“Are you two finally ready?” Sloane grumbles, coming out of her bedroom in the small house we’re renting here in Gooding, Idaho while we’re here for a few days.
Leti raises a brow, “Man, you have the nerve to ask us that girlie. We’ve been waiting on you, sleeping beauty.” Her Latina flare comes raging out of her causing me to laugh.
“Yeah, right.” Sloane rolls her eyes and sashays her ass out into the living room, slips her coat over her shoulders and grabs her purse. “Are we going to see Mom and Dad or not?”
Even now when she calls them Mom and Dad it shocks me. I’m still not sure why considering they raised us and all, but part of me thinks it’s because Sloane is very aware our father is alive and our mother is six feet under. Maybe it feels like a betrayal to him? To them? I’m not sure. Hopefully one day I’ll figure it out.
“Yeah, we’re ready.” Leti responds and goes to the door, hands the flan over to Sloane and gets ready to go. Meanwhile, I just put on a heavy sweater and grab the keys to our rental. I’m the first one to make it out of our small cottage and head up to the sedan, slide behind the steering wheel and wait for Leti and Sloane. Within a couple minutes we’re all sorted and are on our way out of the suburban part of town, into rural haven.
Within ten minutes we’re rolling up to the house we were raised in. It’s a medium sized one floor home with taupe colored siding and a light brown roof. We didn’t have a garage, but the people who owned it before my godparents were farmers, so we converted an old equipment building into a three-car garage. I drive and park the car in the only open slot, put it in park and get out. Leti and Sloane do the same and we make our way out of the garage and over to the back door.
You only use the front door if you’re a visitor, or a Jehovah’s Witness coming to convert my family. It might seem harsh, but it’s an ongoing joke we had. We’d make bets whether you’re from a local farm trying to sell us meats, get us on your produce schedule, or change our religion.
“They won’t mind I’ve come with you, right?” Leti asks nervously.
Sloane flips her head around to look at her, “No, of course not. The only reason they stopped getting so nervous that we’re living in L.A. is because you live with us. You know, your invisible security team and all that.” None of us miss the fact Sloane is poking a bit of fun at our cousin.
Leti glances back to the blacked-out SUV at the edge of the driveway, “I wish they were invisible.”
“In the city it’s easier for them to blend in.” I say, knowing she isn’t a huge fan of being followed, but it’s for her safety.
“Yeah,” Sloane giggles, rapping her hand against the door.
A few moments pass by and no one comes to the door, which is weird. It’s a few minutes past four and they knew we were coming over for an early dinner. The real party is tomorrow afternoon, but we’re having a little pre-party action tonight, just the six of us.
Sloane glances over to me with a worried look crossing her face. “Their cars are here.”
I nod, “Yeah, I know.” I take a step closer and slam my fist against the door, causing the small windowpanes to rattle against the frame. “Maybe they didn’t hear us. They’re old.”
“Did you seriously just say they’re old?” Sloane shakes her head, showing me she’s annoyed.
“Girls,” Leti’s tone of voice drops and both Sloane and I look right at her. Her eyes are widening as we speak and her chest rises. She’s clenching her neck muscles and I’m not really sure what’s going on. “There’s blood on the floor.”
“What?” Sloane replies like she’s crazy, puts her hand on the knob and pushes it right open. I follow closely behind her and see the exact same thing. A thick, syrup like substance.
“Leti, get to your guys.” I whisper, grabbing a knife from the butcher block.
“She’s right, go.” Sloane backs me up.
I slowly walk around the island in the kitchen and see more blood is on the floor, in somewhat
large pools and then it looks like a body was dragged. I take in a deep breath and peer into the living room, but the second I do the sight before my eyes causes my body to grow cold.
My hands shake as I see their bodies. My godmother and nana with their hands tied behind their back, limp against the shag, tan carpet with blood around their heads. They were shot execution style. But the blood trail goes through the living room, all the way to the front door where my godfather’s body lays. His neck is craned to the side with a knife sticking out of it, blood coating his white dress shirt and khaki pants.
It happened.
Everything they warned us would happen if we weren’t careful.
Someone is coming after us.
Chapter Nine
It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not
~ Dare to Cultivate
Aleksandr
January 28th
“Read the date back to me again,” I tell my brother, who has a file filled with information on the Mackenzie family.
“June twenty-seventh,” Aleksei grits from the other side of the room.
I peer up from my laptop and glare. I know this isn’t what he wants to be doing, but I’ve been given no choice. I either do what my father has asked of me, or I let Maxim take over the Bratva. There will never be a day that I willingly let him take what has always been mine. I plan on changing things. My father and grandfather maintained their rule over people by instilling fear in their subjects, whereas I want respect. Your people should respect you and fear you at the same time, not one or the other.
“I know you don’t like the grunt work, but I need to find them. These girls are the key to getting the Bratva. Surely you understand that.” Aleksei will never be able to understand what it means to be someone with the weight of their name crushing them. But I do. I know being a Volkolv is both a blessing and a curse. I have the power to start wars whenever I’d like, but with everything in life there is a catch twenty-two. I might be powerful, rich, and ruggedly handsome, but does any of it matter when the one person who should care about me more than anyone else doesn’t give two shits if I die?
Aleksei shuts the file folder in front of him and crosses his arms. “You could’ve had anyone looking for them, but instead you have us doing it. I don’t understand this, brother. We’ve never done work like this before, and if you ask me, I think we’re doing a shit job.”
“Well I wasn’t asking you,” I quip. Normally it doesn’t bother me when Aleksei voices his opinion, but the weight of this task is crushing me, barely giving me any time to breathe.
We keep hitting dead end after dead end. We were finally able to discover the girls were born in Ireland and have the date, but after their births there isn’t any other legal documentation in either Ireland or the United States. Which can’t be correct. They didn’t just get over here without a visa. There would’ve been some sort of documentation, but alas, we’ve been on the hunt for almost a month and nothing has turned up.
I lean back in my office chair and stare up at the ceiling. Why am I even doing this shit? He probably knew I wouldn’t be able to find them and wanted me to fail so he could hand the Bratva over to my younger brother. My father is a fucking pig like that.
“Jesus, someone’s a bit pissy.” Aleksei mutters, rising from where he sits. He goes over to the floor to ceiling windows that overlook downtown San Francisco. Placing his hands on the glass, he looks over to me for a moment, speaking calmly. “I know how much is riding on you to get this done, but you can’t be serious. We both know what he asked—no, what he demanded of you. Brat, you aren’t like him. You won’t be able to kill the girl.”
He’s right about one thing, I’m not like my father. “I will do whatever is needed in order to make things change. If that means one innocent girl dies to save millions of others. Well, so be it.”
Aleksei shakes his head in disapproval. “For fuck’s sake, listen to yourself! He told you to kill the girl after you fall in love with her. A sick, twisted punishment for something you did when you were a child. Jesus.”
The fact my father can hold a grudge for that long is somewhat alarming, but he’s hated the Mackenzie family for many years because of my almost stepmother falling for his best friend. However, I doubt things were as perfect as my father says they were. As a child he preferred not to discuss it with me, but as I grew older, he finally told me his version of the story.
How a man came into our penthouse one evening and beat Sofia within an inch of her life, which resulted in him sending her, as well as Aleksei and myself to Ireland. It was the safest place for us all at the time given what was going on in the world. Long story short, Sofia fell in love with Desmond. Aleksei and I stayed with them for a little over a year and a half. That’s when my father finally came for us, physically ripping me out of her hands. I don’t remember much from that day, but the one thing I will never be able to shake is the way she held onto me for dear life. How she pleaded with my father to let us stay with her, and the way her tears coated my shirt as we were being torn apart.
Sofia Ramirez was the closest thing I had to a mother, and the only one I ever remember. The love she had for Aleksei and I was unique. Most wouldn’t ever care for their fiancé’s child and his half-brother like she did, but Sofia was quite different. She set a bar for me as I ventured through life which is why I’ve never become close to either of my father’s women.
“I’ll do what needs to be done,” I grit. He’s trying to talk me out of this asinine plan, but my brother forgets who I am. I always have another plan, even if I haven’t thought of it quite yet.
“If you go through with this you won’t be any better than him. You know that, right? You’re going to be just fucking like him.”
“No, I’m not. I refuse to be anything like him. A man blinded by the animosity he’s held inside him for almost thirty years. I’m not him, Aleksei. Don’t make the mistake of saying something like this to me ever again.” My nostrils flare from the anger coursing through my veins. He could call me anything, but one comparison to my father attacks every bit of effort I’ve put in to not become him.
My cell phone begins vibrating against the glass desk, so I pick it up, “Speak of the devil himself,” I mutter while I tap the green button and bring it to my ear. “Aleksei and I were just talking about you.”
“Good things I hope,” he snickers, seeming oddly cheerful.
“As always,” I comment, “So, what do I owe this pleasure?”
My father inhales deeply before letting out a chuckle. “I’ve had people watching you, reporting your progress to me and I was told there hasn’t been much of any. Tsk, such a shame. I expected better from you, Aleksandr.”
“Ah, so this call is simply to shame me?”
“No, it’s to offer you the lead you obviously require. I managed to obtain the name of an old Irish couple who worked very closely with Desmond quite a few years ago. A few of my men managed to persuade them into giving us the name and location where they grew up. A small, small town in rural Idaho. A few mercenaries I hired paid them a visit, and from the photos, the girls have just been made aware the people who raised them are dead.”
Is he stupid? If he wanted me to find them, fall in love with this girl and whatnot, why would he do something that calls so much attention?
“Why are you acting so carelessly?” I ask, not able to figure this out.
“Mmm, I have my reasons.”
“This will reach Desmond quickly. Won’t it?”
“Maybe you aren’t as dumb as I thought.” My father cackles into the phone.
I should’ve known he’d do something like this. It only makes sense. He probably thinks it’s like dipping chum in the water. Naturally, you’d expect a shark to come flying out and he’s doing the same with Desmond Mackenzie.
“Anything else I should know about? Or can I get going?”
“I’ll be sending you the address to the condominium they s
hare with their cousin in Los Angeles,” my father mutters.
“Yes, Leticia Ramirez.” She’s Alejandro’s adopted daughter. Ironic how I couldn’t find hardly anything on the twins, but anyone else related to them didn’t pose the same problem.
“Ah, you found something out. Get your ass to Los Angeles and make this girl fall for you before I send Maxim in. At least I know he’ll get the job done.” He laughs with that ridiculous cackle yet again and ends the phone call.
As soon as the line is dead, I whip my arm back and throw it against the wall, watching the thousand-dollar phone break into tons of small pieces. “Shit. What was that about?” Aleksei asks.
“Nothing. We need to get to Los Angeles.” I hiss in response, making my way to my bedroom in our suite. I need to get packing because we’ll be on the first flight out of here.
Chapter Ten
It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply
~ D. J.
Greer
January 29th
My eyes burn like someone poured kerosene on them and lit the match. It’s officially the following day, a little past midnight on January twenty-nineth and I haven’t gotten one ounce of sleep. Every time I shut my eyes I see them. His body pressed up against the door with somewhat wet blood around him, his skin whiter than it had ever been before, showing the life was obviously gone. My nana and godmother on the floor, bound like savages.
I keep trying to find comfort here, but there isn’t any. Is there?
For goodness sake. How could there be?
Three of the most important people in my life have been killed.
Sloane really took charge back there, grabbing my hand and tugging me out of there. Leti’s security team came racing in, talking on their phones and assessing the house. It all happened so fast and I know I’m barely remembering any of the details. Before I knew it, we were being shoveled into the SUV and we were on our way out of Tunupa. I didn’t know where we were headed at first, but as the mile markers kept flying by it became obvious, we weren’t stopping anytime soon.
Corrupted Love: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mackenzies Book 2) Page 5