Violent Ends (White Monarch Book 2)
Page 8
“Nobody will try anything,” Barto said. “You have my word.”
Cristiano kept his eyes on him and sniffed. “It holds no weight.”
I spread my hand on Cristiano’s back to see if I could get him to relax. “It does to me,” I said gently.
After a pause, Cristiano’s shoulders eased. “Given he’s family, I’ll extend Costa the courtesy of going to him.” He raised his chin. “You going to tell me how you got in here?”
“It could’ve been an inside job.” Barto’s mouth twitched, as if resisting a smile. “Do you trust your team?”
“With my life. I know you didn’t have help from in here.”
“Maybe I did.” I’d never known stoic, dependable Barto for an antagonist, yet he clearly enjoyed having caught Cristiano off guard. “Or maybe I bypassed all your security measures, your walls, your guards, your team, all on my own.”
“Then I’d suggest you come work for me,” Cristiano said. “If I trusted you wouldn’t knife me in the back.”
“Then you have more sense than I thought,” Barto said, and to me, “Go on and change, Natalia.”
“You don’t tell my wife what to do. You’re lucky to be standing here after you broke into my bedroom. Any man who steals a look at my wife in her nightgown should enjoy the view. It’ll be the only thing to comfort him on his way to hell.”
Barto’s lip curled, but he didn’t move. “I’ve seen her in her pajamas more times than you ever will.”
Cristiano stepped forward. I grabbed the back of his shirt as he looked Barto in the eye. “There will be no second warnings. Next time you enter my home, you’re dead.”
Barto’s eyes shifted to mine. The determination in them both comforted and concerned me. Was it that he believed Papá would get me out of this? Or that he couldn’t? Was Barto just reassuring me he’d never give up?
Cristiano and my father were each bullheaded—neither would back down until he got what he wanted. The question was whether Cristiano wanted me in this life as much as my father wanted to keep me out of it.
And whether what I wanted mattered to either of them at all—or if it ever had.
Cristiano let me tug him back. “Get dressed,” he said under his breath. “Be quick.”
I ducked back into the closet, where Jaz already had an outfit ready. “He should’ve killed him on first sight,” she muttered, holding out a pair of lightweight jeans. “I don’t know why he didn’t.”
“They trust each other, despite how it looks,” I said as I drew my nightgown over my head. Neither man would’ve lowered his weapons and left himself vulnerable in the presence of a true threat. Jazmín, for instance, didn’t know Barto at all, and if the way she kept a gun in one hand was any indication, she was prepared to send him to the grave before she ever gave him a chance to officially meet her.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“He works for my father. He and Cristiano used to run security together. Barto has never forgiven himself for my mother’s death,” I explained quietly, “even though he wasn’t even in town at the time.” I hooked myself into my bra. “He won’t let anything happen to me.”
“Cristiano, you mean,” she said, frowning. “He won’t let anything happen to you.”
Right. Jaz was living in denial if she thought he was the hero here.
As I stepped into the jeans, she took a few steps toward me. “If this is some kind of trap . . . you won’t get away with it. I promise you that.”
I froze, staring at her. “If what’s a trap?”
“You. Here. The marriage. All of this.”
“I’m the one who’s trapped.” I balked at her. “Why can’t you see that? I’m the victim, just like you.”
“I’m no victim.” She tilted her head at me. “You expect me to believe you’re innocent? He’s been acting different ever since we heard about the abrupt wedding. You think you can sit on his lap or touch his back, and he’ll do whatever you say? I see what you’re doing—using sex to get your way.”
I blinked at her, racking my brain. “What are you talking about?”
“You can control a man with your mouth, but not by telling him what to do. Cristiano caves because he wants to believe he’s found what he’s looking for in you. I know better. I know all the tricks, puta. I had to learn them to survive.”
My eyes widened. Tricks? Me? The accusation caught me off guard until the truth hit me—she was right. Cristiano showed me a different side when we were alone. And he had heeled just now when he’d agreed to go to my father’s. More than once the night before, too, he’d been reduced to basic needs and desires I knew I could fill.
The pieces I’d been collecting fell into place. I hadn’t purposely tricked Cristiano into anything. But I was more powerful than I’d realized.
None of that made me a whore, though. I was a survivor, just like Jaz.
“You and I are on the same side,” I told her. “But if you can’t see that, then we’re opponents of your own making.” I snatched my t-shirt from her, suddenly regretting I’d trusted her enough to undress in front of her. “And it’s señora de la Rosa to you,” I leveled at her as I pulled on my shirt. “Call me a whore again, and I’ll have Cristiano throw you out.”
“He would never,” she said without an ounce of doubt.
I had far less confidence, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fake it. I tipped my chin down. “Who do you think he’d choose?”
“Me, if he’s smart. And he is. Smarter than you. We may be forced to wait on you,” she said, “but we don’t trust you. He lets you in his bed and drops his guard, but rest assured, if ever I come in here and find you’ve betrayed the man we consider our savior, you won’t make it off the property.”
She left before I could tell her to get out.
7
Cristiano
As we drove up the tree-lined road to the Cruz house, Natalia’s father came into sight, his wrinkled face set in a scowl and his arms crossed over his chest. Waiting at the top of the front steps under the porch, he was tall enough to reach up and touch the metal sconce over his head.
Or rip it out and beat me with it.
If I hadn’t known him almost twenty years, I might’ve been intimidated.
We parked on the rustic, Tuscan pavers Bianca Cruz had not only picked out but helped install herself—the way she’d painstakingly overseen every remodel or addition to this house.
As I exited the SUV, Costa raised his chin. “You’d better have one hell of an explanation, de la Rosa.” Natalia jumped out of the car before I could get her door. Costa kept his eyes on me as he extended one arm to her. “Come here, mija.”
Natalia went to her father, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. “Papá.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, but—”
He nodded shortly at me. “Talk. Fast, before I draw my own conclusions.”
I stuck my hands in my pockets and sauntered up the front steps with Max at my back. Barto took his position by Natalia. She should be by my side now. I’d grant her and Costa this time to adjust, but I’d never been known for my patience. “Our houses are one now,” I told him.
“If this is an effort to take over the Cruz cartel—”
“Not a takeover. A partnership.” I glanced at Natalia. Once, it’d been part of my job to keep an eye on her. Now, I was finding it hard to look at much else. And as time went on, it seemed, she looked back with a little more defiance. And a little more familiarity. “If not for me,” I said, “Diego would be dead.”
“A sacrifice I’d be willing to make in exchange for my daughter’s safety,” Costa said.
“Then talk to him,” I said. “But Diego didn’t only jeopardize his own life. He put you, your cartel, and your daughter at risk. Until I stepped in. So you can thank me.”
“He has thanked you,” Natalia said, her cheeks beautifully flushed, her hair slightly undone, “by not wringing your neck for kidnapping his daughter.”
God reward me for my restraint when my dick had been painfully hard against her underwear and begging for relief . . .
I cleared my throat and returned my eyes to Costa. “I’ve kept her alive. I’ve kept her safe.”
Costa’s eyebrows lowered along with his register. “And she wears a ring.”
I nodded once. “A condition of our arrangement.”
“Look at your daughter, don Costa,” Barto said. “She’s terrified.”
Natalia cowered against her father. It was for show. Not since we’d left the church had she shown true fear. Even when she’d trembled against my body the night before, there’d been determination in her voice. One could even detect a hint of submission in the way she’d fallen against me during our kiss if one was looking for it.
And I was always looking for it.
Even if Natalia had been experienced enough to fake her arousal, she had no reason to. The kiss in the church, and then later in our bedroom, had swept her off her feet. She was right to be afraid of that, but she’d be wrong to deny it.
“I found her in his bed,” Barto continued, “and seeing as she’s hated Cristiano since the day she discovered him standing over Bianca’s body, I can only conclude the worst. Will you let him get away with that?”
“Never. Cristiano will explain himself, believe me,” Costa said, still staring at me. “I want her out of this life. What gives you the right to keep her in it?”
“I make my own rights.” Now wasn’t the time to assure Costa his daughter was safe from me—well, for as long as she resisted. Once she allowed herself to ask for what she wanted, I couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be some carnage, all of which she’d enjoy. “I’m not the one who put her in danger. I pulled her out of it. The Maldonados are no longer a threat, but that can be undone.”
Natalia glanced briefly to the top floor of the house—Bianca’s old art studio—and I followed her gaze. She and Diego had spent time there as children, hiding from Bianca, playing when Diego should’ve been working.
Costa turned, steering Natalia into the house. “Go wait in your room. I’ll talk to Cristiano and work this out.”
“What? No.” She pulled away, looking up at him. “I’m not going to sit around while others decide my fate. That’s how I got into this in the first place.”
If she hadn’t been trying to escape me, I might’ve applauded her. Natalia had been bent to the will of others since before Bianca’s death, but it had only grown worse in the years after. Diego, her father, Barto and his security team—and even myself. We were all guilty of it. But as a kid, she’d stood up to me, a man with a reputation that would terrify most girls, with nothing but grit and determination on her side. And her White Monarch.
She had it in her to rise to the job of cartel queen, but the steel spine that ran in her blood needed space to grow. And encouragement.
“She should be present for this conversation,” I told Costa as I followed them into the foyer.
“Of course. But let’s you and me speak first.” Costa kissed the top of Natalia’s head when we reached the door to his study. “Go on upstairs.”
“Let me rephrase,” I said. “She will be present for this conversation.”
Natalia turned to me, her light, purple-blue eyes wide like saucers. It was all the thank you I’d get from her, but I wasn’t expecting anything more. Natalia had been a precocious and smart child who’d found a way around the rules and limitations put upon her. She wasn’t anyone’s pawn, but she’d let herself fall into that role for my brother.
Diego, who’d put his hands on her, knowing she was my future wife.
I tried not to think of it, because that was exactly what Diego had hoped to achieve by fucking her—to get under my skin.
Not to ease Natalia into her first time, and not to claim her for any romantic purpose before he released her. But to have something over me I could never get back.
Costa turned to face me, his chest out. “You’re telling me what’s best for my daughter?”
“No. I’m telling you what’s best for my wife. She’s no longer to be kept in the dark about this world, her life, or our cartels. She’s in it now, as Bianca was.”
Costa’s expression pinched, and his eyes narrowed on mine as he seemed to read me like a book. He ushered Natalia into the study, but turned and lowered his voice so only I could hear. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, son.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Bianca never should’ve married me. Don’t you think I knew that from the moment I set eyes on her? But I did. Marry her. And I don’t have to tell you how much I loved her.” He glanced into the study, and I followed his troubled gaze to Natalia. “I did all that knowing what the outcome could be—so some would say I got what I deserved. I worry for Natalia’s fate as I did her mother. But I also wouldn’t wish my pain or guilt on any man.”
Costa was worried I’d get my heart broken, was he? Coming from anyone else, I would’ve laughed in his face. But the old man had gone through the worst of it, and he was protective of those he loved. Given our history, and mine with Natalia, it hadn’t taken him five minutes to see that something flickered in me for his daughter. But he didn’t need to warn me of the danger of attachments.
“Would you go back and change it if you could?” I asked.
His eyebrows sank. He took a step closer to me, each of us rising to our full heights, then nodded into his study. “Inside. Now.”
Costa stood before Natalia and me like an emperor looking to make a head roll. With Max and Barto competing to guard the door, I stayed by Natalia’s side, forming a united front with her, even if she didn’t want that.
“Let me see if I have this right,” Costa said. “You kidnapped and married my daughter without my permission, and in exchange, you’re keeping the Maldonados from eliminating every last one of us.”
“That’s Diego’s version of the story, so it’s not entirely accurate. But the outcome is nevertheless the same—Natalia and I are married.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t have it annulled and Natalia on a plane back to California.”
I glanced sidelong at my bride. “I think that reason will mean more coming from Natalia herself.”
Her eyes flitted up to mine, as if I’d called on her to recite the North American Free Trade Agreement. In Costa’s bright, sunny office, her irises appeared violet. “Cristiano has agreed to cover Diego’s—the Cruz cartel’s—debt,” she said, and turned back to her father. “Without Cristiano, the Maldonados are still a threat to all of us.”
“Natalia understands this is greater than me and her. With this union, you and I are family. Our loyalty is to each other. You have my protection, not just against the Maldonados, but against anyone who dares cross us.” I smiled tightly. “That would’ve always been true if I hadn’t been forced from this home. We’re stronger together.”
“There were other ways of merging,” Costa said.
“This way, we’re respected as one family. With the exception of Diego, of course.” I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “Thanks to me, the Maldonados have pardoned Diego. But he has not been pardoned by me—or you.”
Natalia swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“We’re partners now.” I glanced from her to Costa. “Together, our families will accomplish great things. But Diego’s no longer my family or yours. He has nothing left—you will cut him loose or the alliance dissolves.”
“Diego has nothing left but this cartel,” Natalia said flatly, as if she were concealing any emotion she might have about that.
Smart, but frustrating for me.
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“A prison of his own making,” I said, eyeing her. “I promised to let him live, nothing more.”
“Why would I cut free a good man?” Costa asked. “Despite his flaws, he’s been loyal to us.”
Anger simmered below the surface. I’d been treated like a criminal for eleven years, and Diego was loyal? “If Diego is a man, then I am a god,” I said, “and which would you rather have protecting your family?”
Costa grunted, leaning his hands on his desk and looking over my shoulder at Barto. “Against Diego’s advice, I welcomed you back into my life,” he said, shifting his eyes back to me. “I trusted a man I wanted dead for over a decade. Since then, you have taken my daughter, stripped your brother of everything, and attacked my cartel as I sat across the dinner table from you.”
I took a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and offered it to Costa, but he shook his head. “Regarding the attacks on your houses and tunnel, I wish it could’ve been different,” I said. “It was necessary, and I’ll repay you.”
“You killed my men.”
“A cost of doing business.” If I were in Costa’s shoes, I’d have security marching up here now to take me away, but he’d never been as sentimental about his army as I was mine. He treated his men better than most, but taking Diego and me in was the closest he’d come to forming attachments—and that had been at Bianca’s urging. “I owe you a great debt—”
“You could let me go—”
“Not that great.” I cut Natalia off and resisted from smirking, simply because Costa wouldn’t see the humor in it. “But I will do what I can to mitigate the loss of good men. As far as the rest, you can place the blame where it belongs—on Diego.”
“He said you’d say that,” Barto spoke from behind us.
“He took a risk working with the Maldonados.” I picked a cigarette and the lighter from the pack. I generally only indulged in smoking at the club, but I was feeling accomplished these days. “If Diego’s deal had gone well, he would’ve made another and another until he’d eventually failed and put you all at risk. I just . . . sped things along.”