I thought I detected a sigh as she said, “Good evening.”
Recalling Alejandro’s account of her best friend’s bruises and the cowardly fiancé was enough to turn me from doting husband into Manu’s personal nightmare. I tugged at my collar as my chest burned. “I’ve already spoken with Alejandro.”
“And?”
I excused myself from the senator and made my way through the crowd with Daniel at my back. He opened the patio door for me, and I stepped out onto a balcony.
Two women in gowns smoked between sips of martinis. My presence was enough to get them to stub out their cigarettes and clear the area. I gave Daniel a nod, and he returned inside. I could speak freely to my wife knowing he was guarding the door.
Natalia had called for help, and I was more than happy to answer. My mind was already running through the ways I could make Manu pay. I tried my best to keep the growl out of my voice so as not to scare Natalia. Although, I’d quite enjoyed watching the evolution of her responses to my attempts to instill fear.
“Tell me what you’d like me to do with him, Natalia. The fiancé.”
As she spoke, I listened with all the attention I had. It wasn’t always easy, pretending she was nothing to me, but it was necessary. Even amongst my own townspeople. Natalia had taken it in stride the day we’d arrived at the Badlands, or perhaps she’d just been relieved I’d kept my distance. She was in enough danger as my wife—even the slightest suspicion that she meant anything to me put her even more in the line of fire.
Although, there was a flip side to that. Perhaps the best way to go about this marriage would be to show everyone just exactly how prized my new wife was. And let them even think about coming for her.
I preferred to stay on the phone with Natalia, but once the conversation turned to the past, a phone call wasn’t the way to go. I ended our call and glanced out over the balcony as I sipped my liquor, welcoming the burn down my throat. With Natalia around, I’d been thinking more and more of the life I’d had before all of this. Of my time at Costa’s, of my parents and brother . . . of others I’d been unable to help. Of things I would go back and change if I could.
Things I should’ve prevented at all costs.
At a noise, I spun around. A small, white-haired woman looked over the balcony with her back to me. I glanced at the door, where Daniel still stood.
“Oye. How’d you get out here?”
She turned slowly, her black, beaded dress trickling like a waterfall. She had more pink lipstick on her teeth and on the mouthpiece of a long cigarette holder than she did on her lips. “What a handsome man,” she said, her watchful eyes resting on me, “a beauty rivaled only by her.”
Her? Who did she mean? It didn’t matter. She’d listened to a private conversation between my wife and me. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on a man that way?”
“So toss me over. Isn’t that what the cartels do?” She shrugged a thin shoulder and leaned against the balcony wall. “Nobody will see, and if they do, they won’t challenge you over an old, faceless woman.”
Whatever she’d meant by bringing up cartels, I didn’t care for it. With an uneasy feeling, I said, “Leave.”
“I’m not finished with my cigarette, my friend.”
“Friend? You don’t even know who I am—if you did, you’d do as I say.”
“Ah, yes. You are well-known for your treatment of women.” She sucked on the cigarette holder and set a frail elbow on the edge of the wall. “Despite the rumors and your cold demeanor, I can’t help but think I’d be safer with you than anyone else at this party.”
I took a step toward her, completely aware of how menacing it would seem. “Who are you?”
“You were wrong just now, my friend—I do know who you are,” she said. “And what you want, who you love, and who you seek.”
My jaw tingled, and not from the drink. I set the glass on the wall. “Then tell me how to find it.”
“You’re closer than you think.”
“That’s vague.” I went to take a cigarette from my jacket, but I’d left the pack in the car. When I glanced up, the woman held one out to me. Cautiously, I stepped closer to accept it.
“Don’t give up.” She flicked a lighter open. The stacked, mixed metal rings on her fingers clinked as she cupped her hand around the flame for me. I had to bend considerably to reach her. Wrinkles deepened her leathery skin as she peered at me. “And when death strikes, don’t fall down.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“And know when to back down. You don’t always need to fight—”
“I will always fight.”
“Brains beat brawn, señor. You have both. But there’s a time to throw a punch and a time to be patient. And calculating.”
I tipped my head back and blew smoke at the sky. This cigarette was not an indulgence, but an attempt to ease my frustration, all the dead ends and false starts—and this cryptic old woman wasn’t helping. “Give me something I can use,” I said. “Is there someone here tonight who can help me?”
“You’ve spent a long time leading others. Someone here can lead you—if you let them.”
“You,” I deduced.
She grinned. “I’m just an old lady with a bad back.”
“Tell me then. Without details, nothing you’ve said means anything to me.”
“I can tell you the senile man is indeed wise, but that you’d be wiser than him if you left right now. Before your chat.”
Senile man . . . The Owl. She might’ve nearby when I’d been speaking to Sanchez. I wasn’t going anywhere until I spoke to El Búho.
“I can say that you were on the right path, but it’s about to split.” She rubbed her teeth with her index finger, but the lipstick didn’t budge. “And you’ll have to decide how badly you want the prize.”
My prize. Natalia got this look sometimes when she was suppressing a smile or laugh. She did it enough around me to signal that she thought feeling happiness in her situation was wrong. That would change, though. “Badly.”
She sighed as if she’d done all she could to convince me otherwise. “Then you should value it more than life itself, because that will be the cost.”
“Whose life?”
She shrugged. She didn’t know. Because she doesn’t know anything, I reminded myself. I almost wanted to listen to her, which showed how desperate I was. “Then at least tell me if I’ll succeed in obtaining what I want.”
“No.” She put out her cigarette.
“No I won’t, or no you won’t tell me?”
She nodded at my mezcal on the wall. “I’d dump that out if I were you.”
Alarmed, I inspected the glass. “Poisoned?”
“Drugged. But it’s not doing your heartburn any favors, either.”
I frowned at her, then burst into laughter—even as I asked myself how the fuck she’d known about my heartburn. I must’ve been rubbing my chest.
She winked at me and knocked on the glass door.
Daniel turned to open it, and his non-existent eyebrows rose as the woman pushed by him. “What the—”
“Don’t ask,” I said, shaking my head after her. She had balls of steel to corner me that way, then spout a bunch of bull. How had she even gotten out here? I looked to the balcony several floors up as if she’d been airdropped in like a package of canned goods.
I didn’t have time to wonder, since Max wheeled the blind man in sunglasses through the doorway.
“¿Quién está ahí?” the ancient man asked before he was even all the way on the balcony.
“You’re safe,” I assured him. “I just have some questions I need answered.”
“Vete a la chingada. Fuck off.” He turned his head in every direction, looking remarkably like an owl. I half-expected him to hoot. “Where’s my wife?”
“Dead,” I said, ashing my cigarette. I nodded at Daniel and Max, who closed the door and resumed guarding the balcony.
“You may not remember me, bu
t I’m a friend to your family,” I said.
“Cristiano,” he said.
I paused with my smoke halfway to my mouth. Pleased by his coherence, I nodded. “Sí, señor. You remember?”
“No. I can’t remember. That’s what they tell me. Can’t see, either.”
“I’m sorry. I thought the dementia was more advanced or I would’ve visited.”
“Visited where?” he asked, a thread of panic in his voice. “Where am I?”
I scratched my eyebrow as he started to squirm. “It’s me. Cristiano de la Rosa,” I said. “I’m looking for the remaining members of the Valverde family from the northwest.”
“Cristiano.” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Your father’s playing with fire.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “The fucker’s dead. I’m with the Cruz cartel now, and we need to get in touch with the Valverdes.”
“The Valverdes and the Cruzes are enemies,” he informed me. “Vicente and Costa are fighting over the old de la Rosa turf like vultures.”
Once my parents had died, Vicente Valverde had pounced on their cartel’s carcass, resulting in years of battling with the Cruzes over their narcotics territories.
The Owl was stuck in the past, but that might not be a bad thing. “Do you know who wins?” I asked.
Costa would, eventually. Largely because the Valverdes had vanished one day, practically into thin air. The Cruzes had absorbed all that remained of the fallen cartels. And when Costa had decided to trade risk for stability, he’d used some of those territories as currency to build out and focus on the shipping side of his business.
He gripped the arms of his wheelchair with knotty, spotted fingers. “I have to get home. My wife is waiting.”
With a tap on the glass, I looked up and met familiar dark, sparkling eyes. Tasha. She arched a manicured, scolding eyebrow at me—busted. She’d caught me pumping her grandfather for intel.
Then again . . . could she and her smirking red lips get the old man to hoot?
I nodded at Daniel and Max to let her onto the patio.
Natasha Sokolov-Flores stepped out in strappy, cherry-colored heels and a matching dress that stopped just below the curve of her ass. Her curled auburn hair brushed her cleavage as she came toward me. “Cristiano. It’s been a while.”
22
Cristiano
All my hopes were pinned on a blind, senile man in a wheelchair. The closure and proof my wife needed to allow me to smash through the lies she’d been told currently lay with The Owl.
Tasha, his granddaughter and my old friend, leaned in to kiss me on both cheeks. “How’ve you been?”
I nodded once. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
Her red lips curled up at the corners. “Then I won’t be offended you didn’t call.”
“Is that you, Tasha?” the old man asked.
“Sí, abuelito,” she answered. “I’m right here.”
“I recognized your perfume.”
As did I. Tasha and I had hooked up enough times to turn me into a dog whose mouth watered at the hint of Chanel No. 5.
“Tsk, tsk, Cristiano,” she said quietly to me. “What are you doing sneaking my grandfather into dark corners?”
Tasha had a powerful bloodline. Her mother—the daughter of a self-made, well-connected Russian mobster—had been married into a Mexican dynasty. Natasha—Tasha or Tatia—had been born the baby of her family and was more interested in the spoils the arms and narcotics trade afforded her than the business itself. But she knew more than she let on. And she could be of use to me now.
Fleetingly, I wondered what my Natalia at home would think of me standing here with Natasha, the woman I’d teased her about in La Madrina weeks ago. I’d told my then-unknown future bride that Natasha had sucked my cock like it’d end in a mouthful of gold. And she had, but I’d said it to shock Natalia. What would my bride say about it now that she’d given me the gift of her beautiful mouth? I’d heard repressed tremors of jealousy in Natalia’s voice before—over Jaz, Sandra, or just at the prospect of my infidelity. After I’d fought so hard for just the chance to earn Natalia’s devotion, I gave in easily to the satisfying feeling that she might one day be possessive over me.
Or that maybe she already was.
Without thinking, I picked up my mezcal, then froze as the old woman’s words from earlier filtered through my consciousness.
I’d dump that out if I were you.
Strange woman. And seemingly very intuitive. I didn’t believe in clairvoyance but perhaps she’d seen something. I glanced into the dregs of the glass feeling better than ever and tempted to finish it off. But I was too far from the safety the Badlands’ walls to take any chances.
I set it back down. “I’m looking for remaining members of the Valverde family,” I told Tasha.
The Owl answered. “You want the locations of their gravesites?”
Tasha pursed her lips to suppress her smile. “There’s your answer. Now, how about we get a drink?”
Not so fast. Clearly, the old man’s mind wasn’t completely gone. “I don’t believe they’re all dead,” I said, though I’d been told they were plenty of times.
“They might as well be.” Tasha crossed her bare arms. “They haven’t been relevant in years.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Then giving me information on them shouldn’t be a problem.”
With a sigh, she squatted at her grandfather’s side. “Grandfather? What do you know about the Valverdes?”
“I know nothing about nothing,” he said.
She glanced up at me as she spoke to him. “You know so much, though. It’s me, Tasha. Are there still any living members of the Valverde family?”
“Who? What?”
“Listen to me, abuelo,” she said firmly, and then repeated, “Where are the living members of the Valverde family now?”
He grumbled. “They’re all dead. All of them . . . but there are men in the south who say otherwise.”
Tasha covered his hand with hers. “Where in the south?”
“If you’ve hit Guatemala, you’ve gone too far.”
I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t desperate for this information, which could not only bring some peace to my world, but also get me where I was meant to be—back home. Running the Badlands. Unearthing things most thought were better left to rest. And teasing, learning about, and sleeping by my Natalia.
“Which town down south?” I pressed.
“Go fuck yourself,” he said. “I know nothing about nothing. Where’s Elena?”
“She’s not with us anymore, papi,” Tasha said. “You remember.”
Perfect. I’d been reduced to getting information from, first, an aging mystic-for-hire, and second, a once great man who now didn’t know his own wife was six feet under.
Tasha shook her head and stood. “I think that’s the best you’ll get. ‘I know nothing about nothing’ is his mantra.”
“I just need to know which town,” I said.
She took my cigarette from my hand and placed it between her lips, staring at me as she took a drag. “Use that devious brain you’re so famous for.” She parted her lips, and smoke curled around us. “Where would you hide? If it were me, I’d look for either the deepest hole or the highest mountain.”
I shifted my gaze behind her and nodded at Max. “Take him back.”
When Tasha and I were alone, she set the cigarette on the ledge next to my drink, pressed a hand to my chest, and leaned in for a kiss.
I drew back. “I’m married now. Didn’t you know?” I teased, since it was unlikely she’d heard.
One dark eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly. Though she’d grown up in the eye of the tornado that was this world and had perfected her mask, I could tell she wasn’t deterred. “When? I didn’t know you were looking for a wife.”
“It’s an arranged marriage,” I said, showing her my ring. Or more accurately, I thought, a forced one.
“Who makes a more powerful a
lliance than me?”
“I didn’t know you were looking for a husband,” I pointed out.
“I’m not.” She smiled a little. “But for the right cock, I might make an exception. And, baby, there’s isn’t a cock more right than yours.”
I snorted. “My wife’s is a different kind of alliance.”
She played with one of the buttons of my shirt. “You mean because her family offers some other vice we don’t? Business is expanding, you know.”
“No. Not that. I mean . . . they don’t give me as much power as yours would have. But she brings other things to the table.”
“Such as?”
“It’s not something I can really put into words.”
“I see.” She licked her lips. “You love her?”
“No.” I wanted that very clear to anyone around me, including Tasha, even if I did trust her.
“Who’s the family?” she asked.
“The Cruzes.”
“Ah. Bianca’s daughter.” Tasha eased back but kept her hand on my chest. “She’s young.”
“Twenty.”
“I knew you when I was twenty,” Tasha said. “I wasn’t naïve enough to fall in love, but if I had been, I wouldn’t have stood a chance against a man like you. She must be following you around like a lovesick puppy.”
I grunted. I was the one constantly trailing her. Watching her. She was on my mind too much. I normally traveled with more men, but I’d left everyone except Max and Daniel behind with instructions to keep her safe.
Barto breaking in had shaken me. In my absence, I’d increased security tenfold around the Badlands, even if it meant traveling light. And I wouldn’t relax again until I was back in her presence.
“This is an arrangement between her father and me,” I explained. “She could care less what I do.”
Tasha’s button nose crinkled with a smile. “A shame. She doesn’t know what she’s missing . . . but I do. What does it matter if we spend one night together?”
I’d walked right into that one.
She pursed her plump, red mouth. A mouth that sucked dick like a pro and enjoyed every minute. Her eyelids lowered as if she was also remembering her lipstick smeared all over me. But there was something even better about my wife’s nubile, naked mouth tasting a man for the first time. Tasting me. And I was going to break in that pussy as a faithful husband.
Violent Ends (White Monarch Book 2) Page 29