My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting me that I have a phone call. I hope it’s the one I’ve been waiting for. The last time I’d spoken with Tomàs, they were close to making a move on Herrera’s compound.
Just as I’d thought, it’s Tomàs. “Yes?” I ask, hoping for good news.
“It’s done,” Tomàs says simply.
“Good.” I end the call, feeling grim.
It’s time for all this to come to an end.
Twenty-five
Catalina
There’s an odd tension in the air the next day, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. However, Mavis, and the two maids that come in every other day, seem oblivious to it.
The entire day passes slowly, and the estate feels empty. Loneliness creeps up on me, and I spend time in the study, and then eventually take a swim in the pool. Though I don’t see anyone, I know they’re lurking round, keeping an eye on me.
When evening arrives, I eat alone in the kitchen since Mavis had left for the day. I find myself wondering if Santos had spoken to Nikolas, warning him away from me. I haven’t seen him since we’d had sex in the shower, and I’m not sure if he’s just busy, or if Santos has something to do with his absence. If so, I tell myself that I have no reason to feel upset. Santos had raised some valid points, and it would be wise to put distance between myself and Nikolas. I’ll be leaving soon, and I can’t dwell on him once I’m gone. I need to leave this all behind me. The cartels, Nikolas, Zac…
I need to start over.
Which is exactly why I go to bed that night without searching out Nikolas. That doesn’t prevent me from feeling lonely though…and lost. I still can’t envision my new future even after letting Zac go. It’s like it’s there, but it’s a blank screen. I’m learning that I’m still no closer to figuring out what comes next.
* * *
The following day is the same as yesterday until around mid-afternoon. That’s when I begin to notice an increase in security. I spy more men walking the halls and monitoring the estate.
Something is happening, and I wonder if it has to do with my father. I hope so, because something needs to give here. This sort of limbo I’ve been living in has taken its toll on me, and it needs to end. Unfortunately, I don’t see Tomàs or anyone familiar throughout the afternoon, so I have no one to ask.
A few hours later, my curiosity gets the better of me. I know I shouldn’t press my luck with Santos, but he’s the only person that remains stationary and probably has all the answers. I’m certain it’ll be like pulling teeth from a snarling bear, but maybe he’ll let something slip.
My inquisitiveness hits a dead end when I find the guest room empty. The bed is made, and the room looks ready for its next guest. Evidently, Santos’s mandatory bedrest has ended.
Completely crestfallen, I leave the guest room and wander down the hall. The second floor is supposed to be off-limits to me, but after the past few days, I doubt I’ll get in trouble. However, if this new activity has to do with my father, it’s best that I stay as far away as possible. I want absolutely nothing to do with the entire thing other than wanting to hear two important words, and those would be, ‘He’s Dead.’
As I make my way to my room, I wonder if that makes me a bad person. I want my own father dead, and it’s a terrible thought to have. Yet it’s how I feel. If he’s alive, I will forever be looking over my shoulder, because I know he won’t rest as long as I hold all his secrets.
“Miss Herrera?” Tomàs asks from behind me.
I release a yelp and spin around. I hadn’t heard him approach.
He looks at me apologetically. “I apologize. I thought you heard me,” he says lightly.
Feeling self-conscious, I give a little laugh. “Sorry, I was caught up in my thoughts.” Then, I can’t help myself. “Where is everyone?”
“Nikolas would like to see you,” he informs.
My pulse quickens, but not over the idea of learning any news of my father. I’m pleased that Nikolas wants to see me.
Oh, hell.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Miss Herrera?” Tomàs questions.
I shake off my thoughts and look at him expectantly. “Where to?”
“This way,” he says, motioning me back down the hall.
I’m curious where we’re going. At first, I think maybe we’ll go up to the second floor where Nikolas’s office is located, but instead, Tomàs leads me towards the back of the estate. It isn’t until he’s escorting me down to the lowest level, the basement, that a hint of apprehension take root inside me. I doubt Nikolas is working out in his home gym.
Last time I was down here, I hadn’t taken time out to explore, because I’d only had Nikolas on my mind. We pass by an entertainment room, the workout room, and a few other rooms with their doors closed, until we reach one at the very end of a hallway.
Without a word, Tomàs opens the door and motions for me to step inside.
If I didn’t know for sure that Nikolas has no intention of killing me, I’d be worried right about now. I cautiously enter the room and see him and Santos standing there. Nikolas looks darkly handsome in his usual attire, but the expression on his face sends chills down my spine. There’s nothing friendly or welcoming in his expression. He looks very formidable and almost cold.
Santos stands beside him with a crutch under his right arm, but it doesn’t diminish how strong and healthy he looks now that he’s not confined to a bed. He also looks incredibly disgruntled to see me.
I’m confused by their unwelcoming demeanors until I scan the rest of the room and stiffen. The room is baron of furniture, décor, even carpet. The focal point of the room is my father hanging from a hook in the ceiling. His hands are chained together where they’re attached to the hook. His shoulders are bulging, and with his heavy weight, I’m certain he’s hurting. A gag is in place over his mouth, and sweat is evident on his face and causing his graying hair to stick to his head in places. His eyes are full of fury as he gazes at me.
I don’t want to look into those evil eyes, so my eyes focus on the suit he’s wearing a suit. My father has always taken pride in his appearance, but right now, his impeccable clothing is saturated in places from perspiration, and stained with dirt. Beneath his feet is a large sheet of plastic, and as my eyes follow it, they pause on the table ten feet away from my father. There’s an assortment of knives on the table.
Bile rises up into my throat, but I manage to compose myself. I’ve let my walls down in front of Nikolas, but I won’t in front of my father and Santos. I school my expression before turning to look at Nikolas, my mouth set in a flat line.
I didn’t want this.
He had to have known this.
His expression is indecipherable as his blue eyes meet mine. “You need to be here for this.”
It’s all I can do to keep my composure. I don’t like being blindsided, and to have it happen in front of my father… “You said you’d take care of him,” I say calmly, though I feel anything but.
“We are.”
I glance at the table with the weapons, knowing that I’m probably losing color in my face. When I turn back to Nikolas, I tilt my chin, eyes sparking with anger. “I can’t.” And I won’t watch this. Nothing was ever mentioned about watching my father be tortured. I’d thought Nikolas would put a bullet in his head—I should have known better. When he seeks vengeance, it’s never going to be simple, or merciful.
Nikolas pulls out his gun and walks over to me, holding it out as his eyes capture mine. “You’re his blood, and he’s wronged you far more than he has us. This is your chance to say what you need, and if you so choose, you can take his life with our blessing.”
This is when my composure fails me as my mouth falls open with shock. I know how important it is for him to be the one to end my father’s life. My eyes flicker to Santos, who refuses to look at me. I may have Nikolas’s blessing, but I don’t have Santos’s. I don’t need it anyway. I’m just stunned th
at Nikolas would offer me something that he’s chased for almost half his life.
My attention shifts back to Nikolas. His eyes are firm and level, revealing that the decision has been made, and he will accept whatever I choose. If I want this, he will give it. Strange as it sounds, his gift—although as macabre as it is—chips away at another piece of my heart.
I’m about to decline his gift when I have second thoughts. I’ve been given a chance to confront my father face to face, and if I don’t take it, I will always have regret. The anger I’d felt earlier fades as I accept Nikolas’s gun.
He gives me an encouraging nod and backs away to stand beside Santos.
I draw in a deep breath and exhale. The gun is heavy in my hand, and I wrap my fingers around the grip and turn, walking over to the man that has hurt me in so many ways.
He watches me with hatred in his eyes. If it were the other way around, and I were the one strung up, I know he’d put a bullet in me without a second thought. I feel ill as a tidal wave of emotions stir deep within me. The merciful thing to do would be to put a bullet in him, because Nikolas and Santos will want him to suffer—immensely.
I can’t, though.
First of all, I’m not capable of taking a life.
And secondly, even if I were, I recall how it’d felt to hold Zac as he was dying, and how hard I’d tried to comfort him in his last moments. Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to let them show. My father doesn’t deserve mercy when none was given to Zac.
“My last name is Herrera, but only because it’s on my birth certificate,” I say quietly but steadily. “I thank God that I am nothing like you, and I will sleep better knowing you’re no longer breathing.” I step closer to him as he glares, his eyes showing a hint of disdain. He’s never respected me, and even as I hold a gun, he still makes his opinion known.
I don’t mind. Tomorrow, he’ll be gone, and I’ll still be breathing. “I am the daughter you never wanted, taking the place of the precious heir you sought,” I tell him, and I slowly smile. “For the first time since I learned who you are, I am thankful to be Catalina Herrera. There is no carbon copy of yourself to take over the evilness that you’ve put into this world. It all ends with you. Today.”
Rage is simmering in his gaze now that I’ve taunted him where he’s the most vulnerable. It feels good to know that I’m getting to him without even touching him.
I wave my free hand at my body and give him a look. “So look at me, Mario Herrera. My uterus is my own, my life is my own, and when you’re dead, the Herrera name will die with you.”
His eyes narrow, and I can see his hands working on the chains. He would physically silence me if he could.
I smile almost savagely. “Not much fun when you’re on the other side, is it? You can’t do a damned thing while I talk and you listen.”
He grunts at me, and I know he’s trying to call me something insulting.
“Let’s go over things once more, shall we? So during your reign as a cartel leader, you’ve gained nothing for yourself in the long run. Nothing. But you want to know the best part?” I muse. “Zac’s death brought you to your own. Had you not killed him, I never would have gone to Nikolas with everything that I know. And trust me, after spying in your office for days, hiding in that cubby, I know everything.”
His eyes narrow.
“That one decision to kill an innocent man—the one that you thought was so inconsequential—was ultimately your downfall.” I look him in the eye, my expression cold now. “I hope you rot in hell.”
I turn and walk away.
Nikolas is looking at me with pride in his eyes, but I’m close to breaking down by this point. I calmly hand him the gun and stride out of the room.
Tomàs is waiting in the hall, and he quickly recloses the door for Nikolas and Santos before escorting me upstairs. When I enter my room, I close the door firmly and then shakily lower myself to the bed.
I want to cry now that it’s officially over, but I’m also a little scared over how good it’d felt to have the upper hand. I’d enjoyed it, though I don’t take pleasure in the fact that Nikolas and Santos are going to do bad things to him.
This world has never been for me, but that small bit of power that I’d experienced still lingers inside me.
And It scares me.
* * *
Late that evening, I’m curled up in my favorite chair in the study. I haven’t seen anyone but security, so I’ve had the study to myself as I come to terms with the day’s earlier events. I’d also skipped eating. My appetite had disappeared the moment I’d seen my father strung up like a sacrificial pig waiting to be slaughtered.
It still makes me sick.
I wasn’t sure what I’d feel once I knew my father’s cartel was destroyed, and strangely enough, I still don’t know how I feel. There’s relief and satisfaction. There’s a small bit of peace knowing that Zac can finally rest in peace. But yet there’s lingering uncertainties that are beginning to weigh on me. I’d thought that I’d be elated over my newfound freedom, but I’m not. If anything, I feel lost.
A quiet knock on the door that I’d left ajar interrupts my thoughts.
I look up as Nikolas enters the room. He’s changed his clothes and noticeably taken a recent shower—a fact that is not lost on me. He walks over, pausing a few feet from the chair. “It’s done,” he says simply as he studies me.
I nod.
“There’s nothing left of the cartel, and Navarez is hiding with his tail between his legs. He’s worthless at this point, so I’m not wasting the effort to eliminate him when he’s already lost quite a bit of power,” he explains.
“Then I’m officially free,” I say slowly. It feels strange saying it out loud.
“Yes,” Nikolas says, his expression impassive. “I’ve secured the necessary documents, I just need a few things from you. Preferably a name of your choosing and your chosen destination.”
I rise to my feet, still trying to make sense of my emotions. There’s so much I want to say, but how do I put any of it into words? “I…thank you,” I say softly. It’s insufficient considering he’s given me my life back, but it’s all I can come up with in the moment.
“You’re welcome,” he says, a hint of politeness coating his tone.
The atmosphere has become thick with tension, and I don’t know how to salvage the conversation or if I even should. After all, I’ll be leaving in probably a matter of a day or two. Though, to be honest, I can’t imagine leaving him with things standing as they are. I want us to part ways on good terms.
“Nikolas—” I begin, not quite knowing what I’m going to say, but he cuts me off. “There are things I need to do yet tonight,” he interjects.
“Right,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He nods at me like I’m one of his men, and then he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.
I stare after him with frustration. He’s completely shut me out again, and I don’t blame him. I wasn’t exactly articulate with that conversation, and if anything, it was awkwardly stilted. I’m typically not shy about sharing my opinions, but with Nikolas, I find myself sometimes hesitating. But only because he matters, so I want to make certain that I’m not making things more of a mess than they already are. Unfortunately, my new filter and trying to think before I speak just backfired on me.
I drop back down into the chair, groaning. So that conversation helped me sort out absolutely nothing. How am I suppose to unravel everything in my head if I’m not even sure what it is that I want? How am I supposed to make things right with Nikolas if I’m just going to be leaving? Is that even fair?
Twenty-six
Nikolas
I should probably call it a night, but I’m not ready to lie in bed and let all the shit I’ve avoided bombard my mind. I’d rather sit at my desk and concentrate on things I can control. I take a drink of the bourbon I’d poured and focus on the computer screen. I’m cons
idering buying a media company—an investment that would be one-hundred percent clean. The best way to fool the feds is to have plenty of legit companies.
Someone knocks on my office door, and I tear my eyes way from the computer screen. For a moment, I find myself hoping that it’s Catalina, and that she wants to salvage the mess of a conversation we’d had earlier.
Instead, it’s Santos. He limps into the room using a single crutch, and then deposits himself with a grunt in the chair across from my desk. “Fucking stairs are a bitch.” He motions to my glass. “Give me that. I need it more than you.”
Amused, I pick up the glass and hand it to him.
Once he knocks it back and sets the empty glass on my desk, he turns his attention on me, hazel eyes riveted on mine.
I give him a look, waiting. He obviously has something weighing on his mind. He’s either here to give me a piece of his mind for going against his wishes and offering Catalina her father’s death, or he just wants to annoy the shit out of me.
“Herrera’s death has been years in the making. Now that it’s over,” he shrugs his good shoulder. “Feels weird,” he admits.
“I agree.”
“So now what?” he asks.
“Life goes on.”
Something shifts in his gaze. “When will Catalina be leaving?”
Ah, there it is. He’s here to ensure that Catalina will be leaving for good. I need a drink for this. I rise to my feet and walk to the mini bar across the room. I pick up the bottle of bourbon and bring it back to the desk. After I’ve seated myself and poured some into my glass, I lean back in my chair and take a long drink.
“I’m just waiting on some information from her,” I reply once I’ve set the glass down. “She should be gone within a few days. Maybe a week at most.”
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