Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2)

by Eve L Mitchell

  The job had already been risky with Louis being part of the ride along. I’d said nothing, merely there to watch and observe and ensure nothing went wrong.

  I had seen her before the first shot was even fired. Peeking between the dumpsters, and her buckle on the straps of her backpack reflecting off the car lights. It had been a muted reflection, so low that Emilio hadn’t seen it. Amateur. He was blocking his uncle’s view so he didn’t see her either. I knew she couldn’t see Louis or make out Emilio clearly purely from her positioning, and she sure as hell couldn’t see me.

  Bored, I had lit a cigarette. Taking a long drag, alerting her to my presence, waiting to see if the night was going to become more interesting.

  It did. But not from my efforts to attract either Emilio’s or her attention. After the rat was taken care of, some dick from the bistro came looking for her. Startled himself more than her. She bolted, he hesitated. He wouldn’t hesitate again. He wouldn’t do anything again.

  As Emilio panicked, his uncle shot the guy, while I had chased her. I had called Les to keep an eye on the alley for anyone who came looking for her and to pick up the homeless guy. No witnesses. That was and is the way things were done.

  Levi was the owner of the bistro, but he had a loan from a loan shark that charged too much interest, so now he no more owned the bistro than I did.

  Louis asked Malcolm for me to “fix” the problem. A simple chat with a bistro owner and a fabricated tale of insubordination resulted in one fired sous-chef. I’d enjoyed the implied humour when Levi bitched, completely straight-faced, that the guy had been fired for sure.

  Louis hadn’t seen her, and Emilio hadn’t seen her either. The asshole hadn’t even heard her scream. The only ones who knew about her were me and Les. Which meant Malcolm knew. Les took care of the old guy she shared the alley with, and I was going to take care of her.

  Eventually. Maybe. Soon?

  With a grunt, I parked in the multistory garage and headed to Malcolm’s coffee shop. It said a lot about the man. His need for the perfect cup of coffee was so bad he bought his own coffee shop so he never needed to wait and his cup of coffee didn’t change.

  Les was seated at the door as always, watching the street casually. He was a good find, and he fit in with Malcolm, another gift from the tattooed asshole in Boulder. I sometimes wondered if the guy was actually clueless to the windfalls he kept sending Malcolm’s way.

  “Hey, Raphe,” Les greeted quietly. “He’s pissed about something.”

  I acknowledged him with a nod as I walked further into the coffee shop and took a seat across from Malcolm. “What now?” I asked as I looked at the girl behind the counter who was already making my drink.

  “I swear these idiots are sent to try me,” Malcolm grumbled.

  “Specific idiots? Or people in general?”

  “Ha.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Need you in San Diego.”

  I kept my expression neutral as my coffee was placed in front of me. “You said. Why?”

  Malcolm sighed as he finished his cup and sat back in his chair, relaxed. He assessed me with a knowing eye, and I was granted the gift of a rare smile. “She’s still alive?”

  “She is.”

  “Should I be asking why?”

  “No.” I took a drink of coffee and waited patiently. He would want to ask more questions. I wasn’t overly fond of questions.

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  That actually caught me by surprise. “No.”

  “Do you want to, is that it?”

  “Are we doing this? Because I have other places I could be,” I said as I made to leave.

  “Fine, but I want her dealt with soon, we can’t afford for Louis to find out you’re letting a witness live.” Malcolm glanced at his watch before he looked up at me curiously. “Where is she?”

  “Somewhere she can’t escape.”

  “Fine.” He seemed pissed now that I wasn’t sharing information, like I ever told him anything. “You need to fly this afternoon. I told them you would be there before nine.”

  “Who is them?” I started looking at my phone, finding the next flight to San Diego.

  “Friends of the family,” Malcolm answered casually. He didn’t miss my jaw clenching. “Your last visit with Aiden left a loose end.”

  “I don’t leave loose ends.”

  “I beg to differ,” Malcolm answered smoothly. “They need assistance, and you just told me that you have another loose end…somewhere.”

  I stood, my flight confirmed and leaving in two hours. “I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

  Malcolm chuckled as he stood. “If you speak to my son, I would appreciate it if you don’t tell him.”

  “I stay as far from him as he does me,” I replied as I walked away. That wasn’t actually true, but Malcolm didn’t need to know that I had a better relationship with his son than he did. No point rubbing salt into the already open wound.

  After the brief walk back to my car, I checked the overnight bag I kept in the trunk. It would do. Heading to the airport, I thought about what the loose end would be. Aiden and I had gone to San Diego a few months ago on business.

  He wanted out of his marriage, and there was a big penalty to pay for that. More than money. Unfortunately for Aiden, he had inherited his father’s arrogance. He thought his actions had no consequences. In that, he was foolish. The Vialli family were not people you could walk away from with a simple payment. They wanted payment and an act of loyalty, so they sent him to San Diego to have something to hold over him.

  As always, I was the guarantee to all parties that the act would be carried out seamlessly. Aiden had done well. Another quality inherited from his father: his complete detachment from emotion. How the PA had cracked Aiden’s walls was a mystery to me; I could only surmise she was sensational in bed.

  I was fairly certain there were no loose ends in San Diego from our visit. This was bullshit, and with Malcolm telling me nothing, I suspected he knew it too. I would go, I would listen. I would do what I had to. Simple.

  My car was waiting for me when I landed, and I got in the back wordlessly. My driver was used to me and knew better than to expect small talk. The glass divider was up, and I relished the quiet after the chatter of the flight. A case was waiting on the back seat, and I opened it, taking out the gun and the ammo. Flying with my gun caused too much attention, so I left a few spares here for when I visited. After removing my jacket and putting on the holster, I put my jacket back on and checked my phone as the car took me to the outskirts of the city, to the condos along the water and up to North City. It was supposedly one of the more affluent areas of the city. Personally speaking, if you were an asshole, then you were an asshole irrespective of your zip code.

  The drive took about thirty minutes, and when we drove up to the palatial estate, I took an extra moment to enjoy the silence before I exited the car. My driver was at his door, and I walked around the car to meet him.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be in here, could be five minutes, could be five hours.”

  “Understood, Mr Lastra,” he answered promptly.

  I made my way up the entrance steps, taking in the Spanish style architecture and the carefully cultivated gardens. The door opened before I reached it, and I walked confidently past the maid and headed to the study. It wasn’t my first time here, it wouldn’t be my last.

  “Raphe, did you have a good flight?” a voice called to me.

  I slowed my pace slightly before turning to walk through the open doors of the conservatory. They lived in San Diego, and all the ocean salt air was not kind to some plants.

  “Anna-Maria.” I smiled as I greeted the older woman. A frail-looking lady in her late seventies with white hair pinned in a fancy twist, she was always elegant and spotlessly presented, even wearing gardening gloves and an apron. Her white slacks and pale coloured blouse were crease—and dirt—free, from what I could see. “The flight was good. Short. The way I like
them.”

  Anna-Maria laughed lightly. “You mean you glared at everyone until they dare not speak in your direction?”

  “You wound me,” I said with a light smile.

  “Is it possible to wound the devil?” The voice came from the side of the conservatory.

  As I heard Anna-Maria stifle her sigh, I turned and regarded the speaker. “Harmony, how…joyous.”

  “Eat shit.”

  “Harmony, if you were just going to insult our guest, why speak at all?” Anna-Maria reprimanded her softly.

  “It’s no insult,” I said, turning back to Anna-Maria. “I have to care to be offended.” I winked at her as I left the conservatory, assuring her I would try to be back before I left, ignoring Harmony’s waspish tongue.

  On approaching the study, I knocked once. “In!”

  Walking in, I took in the room and its occupants. Two heads of the Sabino family and three more, two sons and a cousin. What the fuck had they done now?

  “We have a problem.”

  “It’s why I just took a two-hour flight,” I answered.

  “Did Malcolm tell you that his son fucked up?” Nico demanded angrily. He was mid-forties and had no control over his temper. His huge hooked nose, close-set beady eyes, and ruddy complexion always made me want to punch him.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” I looked around the room. Nico’s father, Antonio, the head of the family, was frowning at his son, while Antonio’s brother, Alberto, was looking at his son, Micky, who was texting on his phone. The remaining man was Micky’s older cousin Cameron, or Cammy, who was looking back at me with barely concealed amusement. Cam was Alberto’s nephew through marriage, but he had a flair for the family trade that gained him membership to the inner circle of the family.

  “He left a witness!” Nico exclaimed angrily as he slammed his hand down on his father’s desk.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Then how do you explain the fucking witness?” Nico’s face was getting redder. He was heavyset and ate far too much of his wife’s pasta and didn’t fuck his mistress often enough to get any exercise. I really wanted to be there the day his heart exploded from years of abuse.

  “Easily. They’re lying.” I looked around the room, taking in the expressions of them all. Two looked insulted, Nico included, the other three, including his father, looked sceptical. “Tell me this isn’t why I’m here?”

  “No one listens to me,” Cammy drawled as he sat in the leather recliner, relaxed and unperturbed by Nico’s hard glare.

  “Raphael, we need you to talk to the witness,” Alberto spoke. He was tall and thin, in his late sixties with thick black hair, which Anna-Maria, the oldest sibling, confirmed he dyed.

  “Who is it, and where are they?” I saw Cam smirk again out of the corner of my eye and knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

  “You may need to be careful,” Antonio said uneasily.

  “Cop?” I questioned.

  “Worse,” Cam laughed as he stood. He took the few steps needed to reach me and then patted my shoulder. “Potentially, a hysterical female.”

  “You can’t deal with a screaming woman?” I raised an eyebrow at him in humour.

  “The only screaming women I deal with are the ones riding my dick and begging for more.” He grinned at me. “I’m tagging along.”

  “Where is she?” I asked Antonio. “Who is she?” Because what they weren’t telling me was more important than what they were telling me.

  “She’s kind of a well-known.”

  “And?” I pressed.

  “She’s a whore,” Nico spat out.

  “Your whore?” I asked.

  “Why the fuck does he have to be here?” Nico demanded of his father. Like I had insulted him by suggesting he used the services of whores when we all knew he did. “We could handle this ourselves!”

  “I can leave,” I replied casually.

  Antonio shot me a look that I was used to when he was dealing with me and his fat bastard of a son. It was a plea to be patient, and more recently, it was a plea not to wipe the fucker out.

  “She’s not a whore, she’s a dancer in one of the higher-end clubs,” Micky told me patiently, also ignoring Nico. “She’s been dating a basketball player, her social media account has a large following, and the bitch takes selfies every fucking second of the day, it seems.”

  “I’m still failing to see where I come into this?”

  “She posted a selfie at the back of a restaurant on the night of March twenty-seventh. You’ll never guess who was in the selfie.”

  “Surprise me.”

  “The accountant, Iain Clepton.”

  “And?” If they were waiting for a reaction, they would be waiting for a long time.

  “He’s missing.” Nico rolled his beady little eyes and shrugged with his pudgy little hands.

  “He’s not missing, Nico, he’s dead.” I watched the fat fuck sit there and sweat. “I know exactly where he is. As do you.”

  “Suddenly you’re a comedian,” Nico snarked at me as he looked to his father for support.

  “So she’s a dancer? Who dates a what? Clipper?” I asked, referring to one of the state’s main basketball teams. Micky nodded in affirmation. “Again, I’m failing to see why I’m here. Is the accountant easily identifiable? Does him being in the picture change his missing status?”

  “It’s hard to say. You need to talk to her. See what she knows,” Alberto said gruffly. “She’s high profile. We can’t talk to her.”

  “I know you guys like living in your conservatories, but did you notice it’s now August?” I asked them, slightly exasperated. “If she saw anything, she’s had months to talk about it. If anyone recognises the dead accountant, fuck, even in Denver, I would have heard about it. This is bullshit.”

  “The selfie only got posted yesterday. She was clearing out her old photos from her old phone or something,” Cammy said beside me. “They need to know what she saw,” he added quietly.

  I felt my irritation rise as I looked at the four of them. Cammy didn’t count, he had his feet on the ground, albeit he was a tad trigger happy. “It’s been five months. If she saw anything, she would have opened her mouth by now.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t know what she saw.”

  I looked at Nico and contemplated just putting myself out of my misery and putting the bullet between his eyes. I looked at Antonio, and he semi-shrugged. Fuck me. I rolled my head on my shoulders briskly. “Okay. Cam, you’re with me?”

  “Sure am,” he answered with a grin.

  “Let’s go.” I turned and walked out of the study. My stride was long as I ate up the floor to the front door, ignoring Cammy shouting at me to wait.

  I left the house and looked for my driver. He was sitting outside the car, on a foldable chair, reading a book. Seeing me, he had the book and the chair in the trunk just as I reached the car.

  “Fuck, man, I said wait.” Cam jogged up to me. He was the same height as me, maybe a hair taller. He was bulkier too. He worked his shoulders and biceps harder than I did. I trained in martial arts and a punchbag. He lifted weights, and his fighting skills, he learned on the streets as a foster kid before his aunt found him. His full head of black hair curled over the neck of his white shirt. If it grew any longer, the fucker would have it in a ponytail, and I would need to shave his head on principle.

  “Why can’t you do this?” I asked him as we got in the car. “This is bullshit.”

  “I know, but that fat fuck wanted to make a point to his dad,” Cammy growled.

  “What point?” I asked as I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

  “That Aiden can’t be trusted.”

  “What the fuck has this got to do with Aiden?” He had my attention now. “Aiden did what they asked him to do. This was the only thing he had to do.”

  “Nico wants more.” Cammy shrugged.

  “Nico can go fuck himself.” I looked out the window irritably. “Does Malcolm know?”

  “Ye
ah, I tipped him off earlier, and he told me he would get you here and you could take care of it.” Cammy glanced at me. “Malcolm says you have a ‘situation’ you’re dealing with? Suggested it may even be a female situation?”

  “No need for air quotes. I have no situation.”

  “Knew he was exaggerating.” Cam laughed easily. “So we take care of the dancer, and then later we go to the club and find some women?”

  “Is that why Harmony looked like someone shit in her shoe?” I asked him as I shot a message off to Malcolm.

  “Harm’s a vicious bitch, and if she wants to fuck her bodyguard, he can have at her.” Cammy’s voice was easy, his laugh joking, but I noticed his hands clench at his side.

  “You’re both going to end up killing each other,” I muttered.

  “Or worse, they send for you to kill us both.”

  I huffed out in agreement. I wouldn’t put it past the old men to remove the problem. Cammy and Harmony were trouble, especially together. They had a love-hate relationship, and I knew Antonio was counting the days before his daughter left for college. The further she was away from her danger-seeking cousin, the better for the family. When they were together, scenes were made, drama was rampant along with tears, screaming, and usually someone getting the shit kicked out of them. Either the guy Harmony was with or the unlucky bitch Cammy was with. Cam was six years older than Harmony, yet put them together and you wondered who the teenager was.

  “We’ll go to my condo, and you can fill me in on this situation with the dancer. I need details.”

  “Of course, I know everything you need to know,” he told me smugly.

  I doubted it, but I said nothing. Cam talked too much as it was. The danger was that if I spoke, he would reply.

  My eyes were drooping. I was curled up on the sofa, watching a documentary on serial killers. Colour me morbid, but I was feeling abandoned, and I didn’t understand why I was feeling like this. It had been three days since he had left me lying on the bathroom floor after practically waterboarding me.

  Three days.