Violent Ends (White Monarch Book 2)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “I’m sure you’re needed at your party or whatever,” I said, hoping he’d offer up something without me asking.

  “Yes,” he agreed, but made no move to get off the line. After a brief silence, he said, “Don’t worry about Jaz. She hasn’t known much kindness.”

  I was lucky that most of my life, I’d had an abundance of that, despite the betrayals and death I’d seen. There was still a wall between Jaz and me—more like every brick was still in place. But that didn’t mean I hoped we wouldn’t break it down. I could afford to show compassion.

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and prepared to say goodnight. Plastic wrap crinkled in the closet, then it went quiet. Nine o’clock wasn’t late at all. Maybe Jaz and I could talk—even over a drink. It seemed as if Cristiano would welcome that more than he would mind.

  Anticipating Cristiano would end the call, I stuck my head in the closet to address Jaz and nearly knocked my forehead into hers. She jumped back and the wood hangers in her hands fell, banging against each other.

  Had she been listening to our conversation?

  “Everything okay over there?” Cristiano asked.

  “Um,” I said, stalling as Jaz’s eyes widened. I’d never caught her spying on me, but that didn’t mean it was the first time. I wouldn’t forget anytime soon how she’d ratted me out to Cristiano the night I’d arrived at the Badlands. When I’d been scared and alone. She looked scared now. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came.

  I’d just decided to show her kindness, and I myself had sure as hell been caught eavesdropping on more than one occasion. Plus, whatever Jaz had against me, she was loyal to a fault to Cristiano, and I didn’t want to give him reason to question that.

  “Everything’s fine,” I told him, raising my brows at Jaz. “I dropped my hairbrush in the bathroom.”

  “I see.”

  “So, goodnight then,” I said.

  “Goodnight. I—uh . . .” He paused.

  My heart missed a beat. Cristiano didn’t stammer over his words, and that sent up a red flag in me. “What is it?” I asked, backing away from the closet, keeping Jaz in sight until I turned and walked onto the balcony for privacy.

  “I’m only one man, Natalia,” Cristiano said. “And there’s a world full of evil to contend with.”

  My nerves calmed at the absence of alarm in Cristiano’s voice. But the melancholy in it touched something deep inside me. It was hard to imagine a man as strong and tightly coiled as Cristiano feeling sad, so I never really wondered if he was.

  I rested my elbows on the stucco wall, squinting out over the inky black ocean. “What’s wrong, Cristiano?”

  “When you say my name that way, nothing.”

  I had also sensed the shift in how I addressed him—I was starting to feel at ease with him, but I didn’t necessarily want to admit that to him.

  “You asked if there are ever women I can’t help,” he said. “I wish I had a different answer.”

  I remembered how I’d once peered over this wall and wondered if it could be a way out. My only way out.

  Don’t die. It was Cristiano’s first rule.

  I’d cheated death already, though, if that soothsayer from my father’s party weeks ago was to be believed. I hadn’t forgotten her prophecy about Diego and me. You will die for him, your love.

  If she’d been so prescient, why hadn’t she warned me about the kind of person Diego would turn out to be?

  “You’d have to be a superhero to save them all,” I told Cristiano as a breeze sent a shiver down my bare shoulders. “And superheroes don’t exist.”

  But you come close.

  The unbidden thought scared me. It was true—for others. Not for me. Cristiano held the key to this tower. He could unlock the door and free me, but as long he’d put me here, he couldn’t save me.

  “I cannot describe to you, nor would I ever try, the things I have seen,” he said slowly. “Things no man should ever witness. The sex trade runs so deep, and touches parts of the world, of the internet, and of men, that even the strongest army can’t beat. But we can still fight.” He paused as a gripping sorrow passed through the phone from him into me. Cristiano had taken on a beast that could never be killed. How did that feel for someone as mighty as him? “I’m sorry it’s this way,” he continued. “I do what I can. The people I care about, I will protect, and those I didn’t, I will avenge.”

  My heart stopped a moment, and his grave words hung heavy over the line. I’d never doubted Cristiano had demons, only that he’d ever show them to me. Or anyone.

  “Those you didn’t?” I repeated softly. “Who?”

  A beat passed, and then another. I thought he might actually answer until he said, “A story for another time, my love. Now, it’s really time to say goodnight. Sleep well. I will, knowing you’re one of the protected.”

  The line went dead, but I made no move except to raise my head to the stars twinkling above us. I was one of the protected, which meant he cared, and though that should’ve come as a surprise, it didn’t. The tenderness in his voice didn’t match the man I’d thought I’d married. This man had a past that I’d lived alongside him and which I still knew very little about. How could I, when I’d been so consumed with hating him?

  Cristiano had lost people he’d cared about, but hadn’t been able to protect, and he was trying to make that right by doing everything he could for strangers.

  Unless it wasn’t about strangers at all. Cristiano had lost my mother when it’d been his job to protect her. And perhaps he was trying to make that right . . . but how?

  The answer sat on the tip of my tongue but also eluded me.

  Silence fell over the night as the waves lulled. With a noise at my back, I spun around.

  Framed by the clean, white arched doorway, Jazmín looked almost devilish with her dainty, sharp features and red hair. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Me?” My heartrate kicked up a notch. “This is my bedroom.”

  “I mean in the Badlands.” She took a step toward me, narrowing her eyes. “You may think he’s blind. That he’s too wrapped up in you to see anything else, but I see everything.”

  “He’s hardly wrapped up in me,” I said, also stepping forward. “If you saw anything, you’d know that. Maybe you’re the one who’s blind.”

  Jaz made two tiny fists, her mouth sliding into a frown. “I meant what I said. If anything happens to him, you’ll pay the price. If he doesn’t come home, you’ll have all of us to face.”

  “Why wouldn’t he come h-home?” I asked, stumbling over the strange word. It wasn’t the first time I’d referred to the Badlands that way, but it was the first time it felt . . . true. And the first time fear had ever entered my heart that Cristiano might not return.

  “Every time he leaves these walls, he’s in danger. But this time especially, and you don’t even appreciate it.” She shook her head up at the night sky. “He’s wasting time and resources that could go to people who actually need it.”

  I wrinkled my nose, trying to make sense of her words. Cristiano was in search of something he desperately wanted. Something he needed. And he’d said it involved my father and me.

  I’d thought power was the only thing that drove a man like Cristiano, but power was a fickle bitch that wore many masks.

  Sex. Money. Revenge.

  Cristiano had only hinted that it wasn’t any of those, but he’d never confirmed anything. He had told me he was done scheming, though. What, then, could possibly drive him to put himself in harm’s way? And why, when I’d spent the last few weeks wishing to be free of him, did the thought of him in danger inspire concern?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jazmín,” I said. “He didn’t tell me where he was going. He barely said good-bye when he left.”

  “He went because of you. Because you told him to. Because even though he gives you everything,”—she gestured emphatically around the palatial room where I rested my he
ad each night—“it’s still not enough.”

  “I never asked for any of this,” I said, my voice wavering until I reminded myself it was true. My cheeks warmed, my temper rising as I repeated, “I never asked for any of this.”

  “But you’re lucky to have it, and have you ever thanked him? Ever returned any of the kindness he shows you?” As she took another step, I straightened. I was taller than her, but she possessed a scrappiness I never would, no matter how much I trained. “Out there, he’s exposed. The deeper he gets into this, the more dangerous it is.”

  “What is this?” He’d said he’d look until he found what he needed—or until it drove him mad. I’d told him to go, but I’d had no idea I was the force behind his search. “What’s he looking for?”

  “It’s not my place to say—”

  “You inserted yourself in this, now tell me what puts my husband in danger,” I demanded.

  Slowly, she crossed her thin arms, glaring back at me. After a moment, she gritted her teeth and looked out over the water. “He knows you’ll never trust him, and never believe him, without proof.” She turned back to me. “And even if he doesn’t know it yet, he loves you too much to live with that.”

  Waves crashed against the shore as silence fell over each of us. Cristiano was controlling, dominant, and rough around the edges, but was he loving? My heart answered with a skipped beat. I’d known from the beginning that Cristiano hadn’t done any of this out of hatred or indifference—how did I not ever once consider it might be love? I wouldn’t believe that unless I heard it from his mouth, but I realized there was a chance it was true.

  As tempted as I was to explore that possibility, the first half of Jaz’s thought demanded my attention. “Proof of what?” I asked.

  “I’ve said too much.” She shook her head as she retreated. “Tell him to come home. If he doesn’t make it back, you won’t make it out. We need him. This town needs him. We can never repay him for what he’s done for us . . . but we’d all jump at the chance to.”

  Her threat was clear. Nobody would bat an eye if I paid the price for their hero’s fall. But Jaz didn’t intimidate me. Her concern only demonstrated how truly worried she and the others were. That scared me—the idea of losing Cristiano. For now, it was as much as I could admit in the privacy of my own thoughts.

  There were people out there who wanted Cristiano dead. I’d known that when I’d told him to go. In my mind, he was invincible, but in my heart, I knew that wasn’t true.

  Cristiano was on a mission I’d sent him on. I didn’t even care what he’d gone to find. There wasn’t anything I could think of that was worth risking his life.

  I could call him back.

  But why did I care? Why would I tell him to retreat when I’d done nothing but try to think of ways to get away from him?

  The people I care about, I will protect.

  He had sworn me his protection, but he was out there now, unprotected.

  And my care could bring him home—if I could allow myself to want that.

  21

  Cristiano

  I’d traveled across the country, brought along two of my most trusted men, and worst of all, left behind my new bride—only to come up empty-handed. Now, I navigated a small crowd in a warmly lit hotel ballroom with chandeliers overhead, hit songs on the speakers, and a fresh mezcal in my hand.

  Max, Daniel, and I had kicked up mud on our way through dirt-road towns, hitting up local bars and banging on doors to ask questions that put targets on our backs—all in an effort to excavate information from those who were willing to sell at the risk of their lives.

  But the remaining members of the long-disbanded Valverde family were nowhere to be found since they’d changed their identities and gone into deep hiding. Either that, or they were dead.

  So I was hitting somewhere even more dangerous—the elite. Those who had more, demanded more, but also possessed an even greater weakness for money than the poverty-stricken towns we’d just come from. The right offer to the right person could produce information. But the wrong inquiry to the wrong one? These people had enough money and power to wipe anyone from existence.

  Some—myself included—would call me a fool for trying to raise one rival from the dead when I already had another to contend with. Belmonte-Ruiz wanted my neck after the attack Sandra had helped us pull off, the most recent in a line of several. But the information the Valverde family possessed could be invaluable—proven by the fact that I was still trying to track them down.

  Natalia had been right, though. What was all of this for if I couldn’t have everything I wanted?

  Tonight was my first politician’s event. Everything I’d done up until now had been under the radar and cloak of anonymity. Every government and law enforcement official, judge, or ally of mine had been secured via a complicated but nearly impenetrable network that spanned the world.

  Now that my identity had been revealed, I was coming to collect on years of staying clear of polite society.

  I hadn’t been invited, but that didn’t matter. Senator Raúl Sanchez wouldn’t dare turn me away knowing the influence—and capital—I had to offer.

  The crowd was a thing to see, particularly the confused and anxious expressions of the state’s elite when they recognized me. And, of course, as they took in disheveled, Russian Max and his glass eye, and my completely hairless associate Daniel.

  “I hear congratulations are in order.” Sanchez shook my hand, but I didn’t miss his furtive glances. I was both a liability and an asset, the latter being the kind better kept in the wings.

  “Thank you, Senator.”

  Coming up to my neck, he had a habit of looking at my chin rather than into my eyes. “How are you finding your new bride?” he asked.

  “Expensive.” I adjusted the knot of my tie. “She has a credit card with her new name on it and nothing but time to kill.”

  “Welcome to married life.” He clinked his drink with mine. “I hope she at least pays off the card both timely and abundantly.”

  “Do you think there’s any woman who denies me?” I asked with a dismissive wave. “I have access to the best pussy in the world. The girl doesn’t even come close. I needed the connection to her family—that’s all.”

  “I’ve heard Costa’s daughter is quite the beauty, though.”

  An ember of fire lit at the base of my chest. I breathed through my nose, calming my instinct to put him in his place. He should be so lucky to ever lay eyes on Natalia Cruz de la Rosa. I forced out the only acceptable response. “Exaggeration. She’s a plain and boring brat.”

  “Nonetheless, she has brought you even greater fortune and power,” he said with a sip. “I’m happy you could make it tonight.”

  “How happy?” I asked, ready to move on from the subject of Natalia. “I’m looking for the Valverde family.”

  “Now’s not really the time, de la Rosa.” With a tissue from inside his jacket, he patted his hairline. “Have you gotten a chance to visit the silent auction?”

  “Now is exactly the time.” I had a low tolerance for political smoke and shadows and would sooner be back at the hotel working than shoveling this bullshit, but I’d exhausted all other options. “The sooner I get what I need, the sooner I’ll leave.”

  “I never had any association with Valverde,” he said out of the side of his mouth, “and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  “Then give me the name of someone here who can help me.”

  “I haven’t even heard the name Valverde in years. How would I know what you need?”

  “Wrong answer. Try again, compa. Give me a name.”

  He forced a smile that couldn’t even pass as an attempt at genuine and raised his cocktail across the room. To me, he spoke under his breath. “See the gentleman in the wheelchair to the left?”

  I followed his gaze to a man in a bespoke suit with wrinkled skin and thinning gray hair. Despite his sunglasses, I knew the face underneath was hard as nails. It’d
been years since I’d seen him, but I recognized him instantly. “El Búho,” I said.

  “Once wise and all-seeing.”

  “Now blind and senile,” I said, frustrated by yet another useless lead.

  I’d gone to The Owl as a twenty-something in need of help, and he and his family had done everything they could, but it hadn’t been enough. I appreciated the man he’d been, but at almost a hundred years old, I’d heard through the grapevine that his mind was worthless now.

  Sanchez clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Not so fast. Those secrets are still in there, and he just might be out of it enough to share some.” The senator shrugged. “But what’s true and what’s lies? You’ll have to decide for yourself. He’s your best bet at information here, though.”

  I started toward the old man, but Sanchez called me back. “He’s on a tight leash. Family doesn’t let him talk to anyone anymore.”

  Sure. But I wasn’t anyone.

  My phone buzzed in my shirt pocket. I slipped it out and kept the screen close to my chest as Natalia’s name flashed. Well, well. It wasn’t the ideal place to talk, but the fact that she’d called at all was reason enough to pick up. I did love when she obeyed—almost as much as when she didn’t.

  I got Max’s attention and nodded toward the man in the wheelchair. “Bring me El Búho. I need a few minutes alone with him.”

  I’d barely put the phone to my ear when Natalia blurted, “I have to talk to you about Pilar.”

  My free hand curled into a fist as lust rooted itself in me. Being called upon by Natalia for help was one of the sweetest things I’d experienced to date. It would be my perverse pleasure to hear Natalia ask me to deliver a certain fate to the woman-beating molester.

  I smiled to myself then schooled my expression for anyone who might care enough to take note. “Good evening to you too,” I responded.