Dirty War: Dirty Justice Book Two

by N. E. Henderson

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Claire,” I tell her. “That’s my middle name too.”

  “Seriously?” She giggles like twenty-year-old girls do, warming my heart for the first time in days. Drago’s sister is nice with genuine kindness in her disposition. I think I’m going to like her. She reminds me of my niece, Carrie. It’s her girly personality.

  For a second it makes me think about my family, reminding me once again that I’m missing the holidays with them. Guilt festers. I hate keeping Jackson and Alana in the dark when I know if the tables were turned and they were doing the same to me I’d be hurt—and pissed. But Jackson would flip his shit.

  Remembering he had a tracking device on me, I knew if he learned of what happened last week it would push him from being the overprotective brother into psycho territory. And right now, I can’t deal with that on top of everything else.

  Still, when they do find out, because let’s face it, I will eventually tell them, there will be hell to pay for. I’m just not telling them today, or tomorrow.

  “Are you two hungry?”

  I rest against the bar-style granite countertop, next to where Caprice hops onto a stool.

  “I’m always hungry for anything you’re cooking, Mona,” Caprice croons.

  “Oh, shush it, child.” Mona glances over her shoulder from where she’s standing at the stove, shaking her head at Caprice.

  “You know you’re the best cook in the world.”

  Mona turns slightly, looking over at us, but her hand continues moving in circles as she stirs the contents of a pot. “She’s still young. Her idea of good food is whatever she can scarf down while running between classes, so of course, whatever I cook is going to be better than that.”

  “Don’t listen to her.” Caprice pulls my attention over to her. “Her food is mouthwateringly amazing.”

  “You’re in college?”

  “Uh-huh,” she confirms.

  “Where at?”

  “UCLA for now.”

  “Do you plan on transferring somewhere else later?” She’s twenty, so she could be a freshman if she took time off after high school, or she could be several semesters along.

  “After I make the big bad dragon happy.”

  “I’m sorry.” I laugh, knowing she is referring to the meaning of Drago’s name, so I guess it’s some running joke.

  “D is making me major in theater even though he knows I want to do finance.”

  “Those two are so drastically different.” I can’t help but point out the obvious. “If you want to study something else why would he force you to do something you don’t want to do? And well, you are an adult after all. He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, CC.”

  “My brother”—she sighs, rolling her eyes—“means well. He wants me to do something I love, not something that’s practical. And”—she laughs—“he can make me do whatever he wants. He knows all he has to do is look at me in that scary way of his, and I’ll cave.”

  “Scary way?” The only time I’ve ever seen Drago look scary was in that photo I first saw him in. Other than that, he’s never come across scary or intimidating to me. He certainly shouldn’t act that way toward his sister.

  “I’m saying it wrong. I just mean in that dad-like way of his. And since he’s paying for my college, yeah, he can say so. But we compromised. I’m doing theater and when I finish, I get to go to graduate school. I want a master’s in finance anyway. It’s a win-win for both of us really. I get to love and enjoy theater while honing in my acting skills, and then I get to prove to him that I am serious about working for our family too, like he and Luca.”

  If she loves theater, then I guess this is different. For a minute I thought she meant D was making her do something he wanted and not something she wants.

  “So, you want to work for D? And Luca, I didn’t know he worked for your brother.”

  How do I not know this? I ran background checks on all of the employees on Acerbi Imports’ payroll. Luca Acerbi wasn’t listed. And besides, he’s in his last year of college himself.

  “Luca handles all the IT type stuff. D doesn’t trust anyone else, so Luca has done it for the past two years. I guess since our dad up and took off to Italy.” Her eyes cast down in thought. It’s evident the mention of Vincent has her mood turning dark.

  “I see,” is all I say, hoping my voice brings her out from whatever it is she is thinking about right now. And luckily it does. She glances up, forcing a smile.

  “I want to handle the finance side of things. The things Rebecca handles today,” she says, bitterness in her tone.

  “Is that distaste I detect?” I don’t like that bitch either, but my guess, it’s for a completely different reason than Drago’s sister. Rebecca De Luca wants him, and that thought brings out a rage inside of me that I never knew existed until I met Drago Acerbi.

  “Let’s just say, I don’t trust her. Therefore, by having a master’s in finance, I’ll trump her bachelor’s in business. Plus, I’m blood, and I know if I push my brother, he’ll eventually cave and let me come work for him.”

  Does she only want to work for D to get Rebecca out?

  I raise an eyebrow way too curious to let that go and she must read the question on my face.

  “I dislike her, but that’s not the sole reason I want her out. I really do want to work alongside my brothers. I love them. They are my whole world. Getting to work with both of them every day would be awesome and fun. Acting comes easy for me. It always has. I’ve been doing it since I was little. Yes, I love doing it, but I want something that will challenge me. I want a career doing something that isn’t easy.”

  “Okay.” I laugh, sliding off the stool. “You’ve sold me. Excuse me, would you? I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Making an exit, I head back down the hall with every intention of going to pee, but then I see the door to D’s office still open.

  I hate arguing with him. So, even though I know I’m right and he’s in the wrong when it comes to acknowledging his son, I go back to his office to apologize. I can’t really fathom how hard all of this is. It’s hard to imagine what is going through his head.

  I stop just before coming in view, hearing Drago’s deep voice.

  “What are you saying?”

  There’s silence.

  “It isn’t possible, E. You know this.”

  This is the second time I’ve heard him refer to a person on the phone as a letter of the alphabet. Who could he be speaking to? I know him well enough to know he only calls those he likes, people he’s close to, by the first letter of their name. So, who is this “E?”

  “Fuck!” There is a bang, as if he’s slammed his palm or something on his desk—or another hard surface area. I jump, but I don’t peek around the doorframe. I don’t want him to know I’m listening; well it’s more like eavesdropping.

  I feel a bit sleazy, but he’s given me reason to doubt him and to not fully trust him anymore. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m not the only one who was keeping secrets in our relationship and I don’t think he’s a bad person. But from the beginning, I’ve always felt there was something he wasn’t telling me, and that feeling hasn’t gone away.

  What if it’s something that could lead me to the son he refuses to claim as his own?

  What if by refusing to acknowledge Gabriel is his, Diaz does something Drago may later regret?

  I can’t bring myself to think of all the ways that monster could harm my sweet boy. I just can’t. I can’t fathom detrimental damage being done to such innocence. And all because of D’s refusal to continue on with the business his father created.

  Drugs.

  Fucking drugs.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing brings me out of my thoughts and not wanting to get caught listening in on Drago’s conversation, I push off the wall, walking back the way I came with the intent of going back upstairs to use that bathroom instead of the one down here.

  I�
�m about to take the stairs when I hear Mona’s sweet voice filter in through the opening in the parlor room.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I want to see Brianna.” My father’s demand stops me from ascending the steps in front of me.

  “Someone is in trouble,” Luca sings from the couch.

  “Grown-ups can’t get in trouble, Daddy.” Mia giggles from where she is laying stretched out on the couch with her head in her dad’s lap.

  “Of course they can, sweet pea.” He looks up, blinding me with a smile that’s a mixture of delight and mischief.

  For a half a second, I wonder why he isn’t with this little girl’s mother. Luca seems like a nice guy. His sister thinks the world of him and from the look on Mia’s face, she does too.

  “Then you’re in trouble, Daddy.”

  “Grown-ups except for me,” he amends, making me laugh. Luca is too cute for his own good.

  “Especially you,” Caprice says from where she’s sitting, once again, reading a book.

  “Daughter,” my father calls from behind me, making me sigh before stepping to the side, taking him in.

  “Dad?” I draw out, wondering why on earth he’s here. I thought I was clear on the phone. “What are you doing here?”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “Bri, dear, why don’t you and your father walk out onto the terrace. It’s such a lovely warm day out there. I’ll bring drinks.” Mona doesn’t wait for a reply before turning and heading to the kitchen, I imagine.

  The rose-colored blush gracing her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s funny for all of two seconds, until I realize why. She finds my dad attractive.

  “Bri,” my dad calls out when I continue staring at the back of Mona’s retreating form.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I turn away from him, looking around. I didn’t even know there was a terrace, so for a minute, I’m at a loss, not knowing where to go.

  “Who are you?” Mia jumps off the couch, running up to my dad.

  “Robert,” he says curtly.

  “Mia A-chair,” she greets him, extending her small little arm. I snort a laugh and so does Luca when she pronounces her last name wrong. For a three-year-old though, she speaks really well.

  “You forgot the ‘be’ Mia-bug,” her dad tells her. Shaking his head, he looks at me. “Patio is through that door.” He points to his left, over and behind the couch he’s sitting on. There are floor to ceiling windows that line the wall behind him, but all of the blinds have been closed, making the room darker and more enjoyable to watch TV.

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  Once I’m through the door, the scenery is the first thing I notice. It’s gorgeous out here. I wouldn’t have realized we were on the second level of the house since it doesn’t seem that way upon entering through the front.

  Walking to the railing, I see a pool below, surrounded by lawn chairs and patio furniture with coverings over them. There is a patch of grass with a gate to my left. Inside is a big child play set that’s much too big for Mia at her age now. There are toys scattered everywhere and the sight warms my heart. Drago obviously loves his niece if all of this is here just for her.

  So why can’t he open up to the thought of Gabriel?

  Hearing a heavy sigh come from behind me, I turn, eyeing my father. He’s standing by the door, dressed in his usual suit and tie. For a man in his mid-fifties he’s fit, still has a head full of dark brown hair, and if you didn’t know him, stunningly blue eyes that would make you want to trust him. If I look hard enough, I can see why Mona might be taken by him.

  But if you know him, you know how cunning he really is. Robert Andrews, although not a bad person, can be very ruthless when he wants something. He isn’t above using any means, money or emotions, to bend someone to his will.

  Striding over, I take a seat in one of the many cushioned chairs scattered about on the large landing. My father, on the other hand, goes to stand next to the railing where I just left.

  “You going to talk?” I prompt when he doesn’t pipe up.

  “Bri,” he says too softly, not sounding like himself. “Come home with me.”

  “No, Dad,” I argue.

  “Please come home with me, sweetheart.”

  Why is this man using words like “please” and “sweetheart?” As odd as it is hearing them from his lips, it’s also comforting that he’s asking me to come stay with him. I haven’t slept under my father’s roof since the night before my high school graduation.

  “You need to be around someone that can take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself, Dad. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  “Don’t get smart. You know what I mean.” His eyebrows furrow together. “You’ve gone through a lot these past few days,” he continues. “You need to be with your family. And I’m your family, not these people.”

  “I said no.”

  “If you aren’t going to leave with me, then at least go stay at Jackson’s for a few weeks. It’ll do you good to get away from LA.”

  “Dad, have you forgotten I have Gabriel to find? I can’t leave LA. I’m not going to leave Los Angeles unless it’s to go after the person that shot me and kidnapped Drago’s son.”

  “Have you forgotten you were placed on administrative leave?” He doesn’t give me the chance to speak, continuing before I can open my mouth. “You aren’t allowed to go after anyone. And you damn sure don’t need to put yourself in more danger. Which is exactly what you are doing by being here.”

  “I’m not in danger here.” Maybe that isn’t entirely true. Diaz wants Drago, after all.

  He raises an eyebrow. “That was a dumb remark coming from you.”

  “I’m not leaving LA until Gabe has been found, or unless I have to leave to find him.”

  “You’ll get fired!” my father shouts at me.

  “I don’t care!” I say equally as loud as him.

  “Jesus, Brianna. Just fucking come home with me.”

  “Why are you pushing this? It’s not like you.”

  He turns away from me, bracing his raised arm against the thick wooden column, looking out toward the ocean. It’s beautiful out here and I could never imagine living anywhere that wasn’t close to water. But right here, right now, it’s not the scenery I care to enjoy. I can’t allow myself joy when I don’t know what’s happening to Gabe. I should have taken my duties more seriously. I should have expected something like this to happen when I knew Drago was involved with Diaz. Even if it’s not of his own doing or free will, he’s still involved to a degree. He may not be pushing his dope or giving Sebastian the means to bring it into the States, but being who he is and the family he was born in, his involvement still exists.

  If I’m honest, it probably always will. At least while Vincent is alive.

  “Your mother was strong—until she wasn’t.”

  His somber words bring me out of my thoughts.

  My mother?

  What does my mother have to do with the topic of where I sleep at night?

  “What are you talking about, Dad?”

  “You think I don’t know you.” He turns, facing me, pressing his backside into the railing. “I do. You are my daughter whether you like it or not, and I do know you better than you think. I know you are strong. You are the most strong-willed person I know. You want people to see you as a strong woman and they do. But unlike your mother, you’re avoiding dealing with your miscarriage when you shouldn’t.”

  “Unlike my mother?”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  “She had three miscarriages.” His statement washes over me, shocking me. “Two between the time you and Jackson were born, and then there was the last one.” He exhales on a heavy sigh. “She avoided the first two. Refused to talk about them and then the last . . .” He trails off, turning away from me, looking back out toward the sea. With his house tucked away in the hills, you can see the ocean in the distance and a few of the oth
er homes around here.

  “Mom had—” I can’t even finish the sentence. It’s a word I haven’t spoken out loud yet.

  “I was mad at her when she got pregnant with you. I knew she was going to lose you too, but when she didn’t, I finally felt like I could breathe again. But then she wanted another and I said no. I put my foot down and refused her, but she went behind my back and stopped taking her birth control.” He shakes his head slowly from side to side, remembering what seems to be a dark time for him and my mother. “I should have known she would, but I was busy. I let her worry about you kids, the house, the bills. I made the money and she had free rein to spend it however she wanted so long as we were all taken care of.” He stops, breathing in the fresh coastal air and pushing it out with a heavy sigh.

  “I’m getting away from the point I’m trying to make. The last miscarriage consumed her and I was too angry and hurt to take care of my wife like I should have. She died of a broken heart, but it was brought on by consuming too many pills. Pills she thought she was taking to control her depression. Only she wasn’t taking them as prescribed. She was abusing her medication and I was never around to notice.”

  “Dad,” I whisper, standing and going straight to him.

  “I don’t want”—his voice cracks as he wraps his arms around me, hugging me to his front—“I won’t let what happened to her, happen to my baby girl.”

  “It won’t.”

  “I need you to face what happened, but do so the right way, sweetheart. I want you to talk about it and deal with your feelings.”

  “I haven’t processed them yet.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I want you to stay with me.”

  “You’re going to have to compromise on this.” I don’t have the luxury of time to deal with anything that isn’t helping to find Gabriel. Telling him that though, probably won’t do any good. Hell, telling that to anyone, especially D, doesn’t seem to be doing any better either.

  “I don’t compromise on anything. Even you know that.”

  “I have to find Gabriel.” It is what it is. Why can’t anyone understand this? He’s an innocent life that got caught up in something that isn’t his doing.