“Marriage, Tali?” he asked softly, almost reverently.
“It’s a lot, I know—”
“It’s everything.” He took my hand under the blanket. “You’re the only one who believes in me enough to trust me with your love. With the world. I have tried and tried to show your father the man I can be. I have no one else—my parents gone and a brother I no longer recognize. You and Costa are my family, but he continues to deny me. And you have never once failed to accept me.”
Moved by his openness, my throat thickened. “He won’t be able to deny you once he sees how devoted we are.”
Diego slid his hand up my arm and massaged my shoulder. “I don’t understand how Costa freely respects Cristiano but continues to hold me at arm’s length. Last night, we were three grown men drinking and talking business, and yet, it’s like I was a teenager at the ranch again.”
I hated that Diego had grown up feeling second best to Cristiano, who’d been treated like a prodigy just because of his size and capacity for brutality. “There’s no way my father can just switch his trust for Cristiano back on.”
“It feels that way—like I’m being replaced.”
“Never, mi amor.” I stretched over the arm of the chair to kiss him for all the times we’d had this conversation and I hadn’t been able to physically comfort him. “I’ll show you so much love and respect that you won’t need it from anyone else.”
He held the back of my head for another peck. “We will be married,” he said, “but I can already declare that I intend to love you until death do us part.”
And death would do us part.
The soothsayer’s unwelcome warnings shivered through me. Damn her and her bullshit fortune. I forced her voice from my head and replaced it with a glowing vision of myself in all white, facing a suited Diego. We stood before an altar, hands intertwined as we committed our lives and love to each other. I’d dreamed of it many times at school, but for the first time, calling him my husband felt within grasp. “I wish the day were tomorrow,” I said.
“Don’t tempt me.” He released me to recline back. “I may steal you away and officially make you mine.”
“Stealing implies I wouldn’t go willingly.” Under the blanket, I folded my hands in my lap and squinted up, hoping for a shooting star. We needed all the help we could get. “I’ll be on a plane soon, Diego.”
He nodded slowly. “What’re you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. Just pointing out that we don’t know when we’ll be together next, so if we were going to do something drastic . . .” It would have to be now. I absentmindedly picked at my fingernails as I thought. “If the Maldonados gave you twenty-one days, then you only have less than two weeks left until you’re out of that. Then it’s over, right? But I’ll be gone.”
He fell quiet as he stared at the night sky, but he didn’t seem to be marveling over its wonders. He was working through something in his head, and the longer it took him to figure out his response, the more concerned I became. “What is it?” I asked.
“You know what this reminds me of?” he asked.
I studied his profile. “Catching insects in the rose garden?”
“I don’t know why I’m still surprised when you read my mind,” he said with a sad smile.
“Up here and out there were the two places you could sneak to for a little bit to keep me company.”
“Your mom would always find us and send me immediately back to the ranch.”
“She had to. My dad would’ve been upset. You were supposed to be working, and I wasn’t supposed to be around you guys.”
“I got to have a childhood through you, hearing about your adventures while I was off doing unimaginable shit to my own people. I never told you this because you were so young, but once, Cristiano used me as bait to kidnap a friend we grew up with.”
“What?” I asked, lifting my head. “How come? What happened to him?”
“What do you think?” Diego asked. “He ended up at the bottom of a wash.”
“But why?”
“Cristiano found out the kid was paying for his drugs by pimping out his underage sister. To Cristiano, that was enough reason to make our friend disappear.”
Good, I thought, and immediately covered my mouth. Who was I to say who lived or died? Who was Cristiano to play God? But who was anyone to pimp out a young girl? Around here, justice wasn’t always served through the channels it was supposed to be. Most of the police were corrupt, and the ones who weren’t were overwhelmed by either trying to prevent or clean up near daily murders.
“I’m sorry,” Diego said, removing his hand from under the blanket to take mine from my face. He intertwined our fingers. “That was too much.”
“No,” I said. “I just didn’t realize . . . I didn’t think the cartel would handle something like that. Did your friend work in the cartel?”
“No, just a customer. I mean, your dad would never stand for underage prostitution,” Diego said. “He might’ve ordered it done or cut off his dick or something. But Cristiano didn’t even go to him. He just popped the kid on his own time.”
I rested my head back against the chair with a mental image I could’ve done without. Had Diego’s friend automatically broken some imaginary law my dad held that Cristiano had enforced? Or had Cristiano done it out of compassion toward the girl? Considering the kind of cartel Cristiano ran now, I wondered if any of that benevolence remained. “Do you think the kid deserved it?” I asked.
Diego ran a hand over his stubble and scratched his chin. “Yeah, it had to be done. But I was a kid too, like thirteen or fourteen. I’d known him my whole life.”
“That’s messed up,” I agreed, grateful my dad had moved on from that kind of business.
“You were my break from all of it.” Diego kept my hand in his but put his other arm behind his head. “You’d tell me about your adventures of the day. Your mom would take you to the outdoor mercado and you’d sneak fruit right from the stands. You’d come home with an orange-stained tongue or dirty fingers from picking wildflowers on the way back. Bianca loved to be outdoors.”
“My mom grew up helping my grandparents on their farm.” It was strange to call two people I didn’t know grandparents. They’d wanted no affiliation with anything illegal, and my mom had respected their decision in order to keep them out of danger.
Diego and I had nice memories, but the past couldn’t distract me from the fact that he was clearly avoiding the subject of his very dangerous arrangement. “Is something wrong with the Maldonados?” I asked, taking my hand back. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I wouldn’t lie. I just don’t want to worry you.” He removed his arm from behind his head and shifted to face me. “It’s just that—I . . . it looks like someone’s sabotaging the deal.”
My heart dropped. After what Diego had told me about the Maldonados, even the threat of a problem would worry me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “And what does ‘sabotaging’ mean?”
“Just how it sounds. There’s no reason we shouldn’t have been able to deliver what I promised the Maldonados, but a lot of their product has been compromised. And it’s no accident.” He rubbed his eyebrow. “The majority hasn’t even crossed the border yet, which is usually where it gets confiscated or stolen. Someone has to be messing with us, but not many would on our own turf.”
“How exactly did they target you?” I asked, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest.
“There were thefts at two secret locations and an explosion in one of our tunnels the exact time my men were passing through.”
Thefts. The phone call Diego had gotten when I’d been at his house came rushing back to me. In this case, a theft wasn’t better than the alternative. It could mean death.
“Your dad and I have a plan in place to make sure nothing else happens to the rest of it. That’s why I was up all night. But until everything has crossed, I’m going to be on edge.”
“How could you not be?�
�� I asked. “What happens if anything else goes missing?”
“This is the most we’ve ever undertaken,” he said. “Millions of dollars’ worth of drugs. It’s not like we can afford to cover it. So that means it’s gone.”
Gone.
I had the same shortness of breath I got whenever I thought too long about Cristiano forcing me to the brink of the tunnel. It had taken no effort on his part. Despite every ounce of fight I’d had, no matter what argument I’d put up, he’d still gotten me to the edge. And then down, down, down.
“What’s the plan?” I asked. “Please tell me it involves taking out whoever’s behind this.”
“It would if we knew who it was. Costa and Cristiano think it’s one of the Maldonados’ rivals . . .”
I frowned. “But you don’t agree.”
He flicked his thumb and middle finger a few times, then flexed his hand. “There are pieces of the puzzle that don’t make sense.”
The only new variables in Papá’s business were the Maldonados and Cristiano. But Cristiano was more than a puzzle piece. He was the puzzle. Nothing about him was clear—not his involvement in my mother’s death, his unusual business practices, his patched together past, nor the men he surrounded himself with. “Cristiano is the wild card,” I said.
“Exactly.” Diego sat forward and looked back at me. “Jesus, Talia—I swear, you’re the only person who gets it. You should be in charge around here.”
I blushed. “It’s not that big of a leap to make.”
“You’d think.”
Cristiano had once been the best man to protect us. He’d known our weaknesses. Then, possibly, he’d exploited them. Had he returned to right the wrongs he felt had been dealt him as Diego had suggested? Did Cristiano actually hope to reposition himself in our family?
A pit formed in my stomach at the thought that he had a greater plan. I didn’t trust Cristiano, but I did trust he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. “So how does your Maldonado deal fit into his plan?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. My gut tells me it’s some kind of power grab. Like we talked about the other day, an alliance between the Calaveras and the Cruzes would be formidable.” Diego leaned his elbows on his knees and ran both hands over his hair. “My father plotted to steal your family’s territory. He would’ve done it if Costa hadn’t put a bullet in him.” He glanced back at me. “History repeats itself.”
“But your father’s plan was to kill mine,” I said. “Not unite.”
Diego shrugged, but not casually. “What’s to stop Cristiano from anything once he’s gained your father’s trust?” He gestured toward the darkness concealing the compound before us. “If they merge, Cristiano will replace me. And once I’m out of the picture, there’s nobody in his path.”
“His path to what?”
“It’s a tale as old as time, Natalia. It’s only a matter of time before a prince fantasizes about being king.”
“He’s king of his own cartel,” I said.
“Cristiano’s anger has been simmering for many years. Maybe he still feels like a prince who never got what he was owed. The taste of power lingers eternal on a man’s tongue. Now that Cristiano has his own kingdom, I have no doubt he hungers for a second.”
“Are you saying . . .” My throat went dry, and the first image that popped into my head was Cristiano and his bucket of sand. I grimaced. “Are you saying Cristiano wants to usurp my father?”
Diego balled his fists, still leaning forward in the chair. “He’d have to earn Costa’s complete faith first. Then, Costa wouldn’t worry about turning his back to him. And that’s when Cristiano slips the knife in.”
With a sharp pain in my jaw, I unclenched my teeth. Cristiano had already taken one parent from me. History would not repeat itself. I wouldn’t let it. “We have to tell my dad,” I said.
“Costa won’t hear it. I’ve tried. Cristiano’s reach is too far and too deep. He has to be cut off at the root.”
“You have no time left.” I knew how stubborn my dad could be, but if I caught him at the right time, maybe he’d listen. “I could talk to Papá.”
“And say what? The minute you start asking questions, he’ll assume I sent you, put you on a plane, and come looking for me.”
I massaged my palm with my thumb as I thought. “What happens if I return to school and one day, I get a call that Cristiano succeeded in taking out everyone who means anything to me? And I’d done nothing?”
“What you did was keep yourself safe. That was the whole purpose of you going to school in the first place.” Diego bit his bottom lip, looking over his shoulder at me. Anxious as I was about what he was telling me, his concern for me was kind of sexy. “You’re out of this life, Natalia. Why dip a toe back in?”
“To help you,” I said quietly.
Diego blinked at me, then reached over and tucked my hair behind my ear. “That’s not your responsibility. I shouldn’t even be worrying you over this—it’s just that nobody else sees the truth.”
“If I’d defy my own father to marry you, why wouldn’t I do everything I could to save your life? Even if it meant going to Cristiano myself?”
“Going to Cristiano? No. I’ll figure this out, Natalia,” he said with conviction. “Believe me. Just the thought of building a life with you fuels me. I’d marry you tomorrow if only I could predict how this deal will end.”
Cristiano had taken my fate into his hands once. He’d changed my life in moments. I wouldn’t afford him that kind of power again. If he stood between Diego and me, if he deigned to think he could lay a hand on my father, then I had to do something.
I wouldn’t lose anyone else I loved to him.
Ever since I’d fallen in a puddle of blood at his feet, our every interaction had been a mind game. Somehow, he’d known who I was at the costume ball and instead of keeping his distance, he’d danced with me. Toyed with me. Touched me. I couldn’t deny the rush that had accompanied his hands on me. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.
He wanted to play. I could play too.
The deep distrust Diego had for his brother was most likely reciprocated. That day eleven years ago, Cristiano had denied any part in my mother’s death, yet Diego had chosen truth and honor over his own blood. To many men in this world, that was an unforgiveable sin.
And if Cristiano had considered my parents family, then I’d committed the same offense against him with my own accusations that day. But could there be any trace left of the man my mother and father had trusted? Was there more to Cristiano than a ruthless killer?
If so, then there was a chance I could scratch his cold exterior and find the warmth beneath. “I’ll talk to Cristiano.”
“Jamás. Never.” Diego frowned. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t.” I took a breath, hugging myself as the night began to cool. “I need to know for myself why he’s here, and what he’s planning.”
“How? He’s not easily cracked, Talia.” Diego bit his thumbnail. “And yet . . . I sometimes wonder if he holds a soft spot where you’re concerned. Like maybe he cares about you.”
That was a stretch. If there was anything between Cristiano and me, it was more carnal. More savage. A thirst for power and a knowledge that the most effective way to hurt my father would be through me. I was a tool for him. After so many years, it likely ran deeper still—an obsession with my family, and maybe even my mother, that had been fostered and stoked to the point that not even an eye for an eye would be enough. Perhaps he longed to defile me while my father stood helpless. I didn’t doubt Cristiano possessed a craving for me, even if it was just as simple as a man desiring a woman. But a fondness? No. The only soft spot between us was whichever part of my body he held in his grip. My girlish bicep years ago. My defiant gaze. My arched back as a woman, my hair tickling his forearm during our tango.
My breath sped thinking of the possibilities. Instinct alone had told me as a nine-year-old girl that b
eing the subject of Cristiano’s attention was as thrilling as it was dangerous.
I didn’t know what exactly tied me to Cristiano, but I understood I could tighten the knot between us if I wanted. If I had the courage. “I think I can get in his head.”
“You probably could, but I won’t let you.” Diego flipped the blanket off himself and stood to pace. “It’s too risky.”
“I want to,” I said, following him with my eyes.
He glanced over at me. “But you’ve always feared him, and with good reason.”
What I knew about Cristiano scared me as much as what I didn’t know. Somehow, the more I learned, the more mysterious he grew. A perverse side of me wanted to test that fear to see if I could glimpse what he never seemed to show anyone.
Nobody ran toward a man like Cristiano de la Rosa. How would he react if I did?
“I have as much reason as anyone to want to bring him down,” I said.
Diego raised his eyebrows at me. “I know, but—”
“What other choice do we have?” I asked. “You were right. My father wants my head in the sand. He won’t respond well to me asking questions. And Cristiano doesn’t trust you.”
“You think he trusts you?”
He’d handled me like I was a child once but had spoken to me the opposite. He’d warned me of loyalty and justice and hadn’t shielded me from the reality that he could kill me if I didn’t help him. “He has no reason to trust me,” I answered, “but I think he did once.”
Diego ran his hands over his face and looked up at the sky. “I’m corrupting you.”
I wrapped myself in the warmth of the wool and got up to stand in front of him. “It’s a means to an end. Let me see if I can figure out why he’s back, and what he knows about the Maldonados.”
Diego rubbed my arms through the blanket as his eyes drifted over my face. Resignation crossed his features as he nodded. “Okay. But you couldn’t just go to Cristiano or he’d suspect something. He has to come to you.”
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