Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)

by Veronica Lancet

  Bianca is tied to a chair in the middle of the room. In the far back, a man is lounging on what looks to be a chaise.

  "Jimenez," I mutter under my breath.

  "Are you sure?" Both Vlad and Marcel look at me for confirmation, and I nod. I'd recognize him anywhere.

  Vlad then pulls up the blueprints and works to pinpoint the location of the room.

  "Once we're out, shoot before asking any questions."

  One by one, we get out of the room and head directly towards the staircase. Vlad's men should have mixed with Jimenez's staff and should be on standby if anything happens.

  The moment we open the staircase door, shots start ringing out.

  "Duck." Marcel pushes me in front of him, turning around and returning the shots. I raise my gun as well and aim. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Vlad unsheathing his swords, ready to fight.

  "Stop!" A voice commands, and the shooting stops immediately. We are all confused, and we see a man coming from the direction of the elevator.

  Marcel's gun is fixed on him as he approaches us, but he is barehanded.

  "The boss will see you now."

  "Why would we trust you?" I ask, and he shrugs.

  "You can come with me now and avoid more bloodshed, or you can make it on your own through a storm of bullets. It's up to you."

  Vlad is the first one to sheath his swords and take a step forward.

  "Ortega, isn't it?" The man smirks at him.

  "Vladimir Kuznetsov. Can't say it's a pleasure." Ortega sizes Vlad up, displeasure written on his face.

  "It's mutual, I assure you." Vlad retorts.

  I look at Marcel to gauge his reaction, and he gives me a brief nod, following after Vlad. I go, as well.

  Ortega leads us to the elevator, pressing 3.

  "I won't forget what you did to Martinez." Ortega addresses me. "I can't do anything now because the boss won't allow it. But best believe it's not forgotten."

  I turn my head and don't reply. What's one more enemy in the scheme of all things?

  Once the elevator rings that we've arrived at the specified floor, we follow Ortega towards the end of the hallway and inside a double door room.

  As soon as we get inside, my eyes search for Bianca, and I find her sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, just like the camera feed had shown us. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

  Disregarding everyone and everything around me, I dash to her side and start untying her hands.

  "Adrian." She whispers her tone slightly off.

  "Did they hurt you? Are you ok?" I ask, looking her over to make sure she is unharmed.

  "No... I’m fine. But Jimenez..." Her voice is calm, and she shakes her head. I immediately gather her in my arms and turn to where Marcel and Vlad are standing.

  As I'm moving, someone starts clapping.

  "Wonderful. Just wonderful."

  I turn my head slightly, and I see Jimenez approaching us, a cynical expression on his face.

  "Put me down," Bianca says, but I am reluctant. "I'm fine." She pushes on my shoulder, trying to extricate herself from me. I relent and put her down. She seems fine on her feet, but I'm still not convinced...

  Considering I went through the worst day of my life wondering what might have happened to her, I can't help but want to smother her to my chest. So, even though I put her down, I still sneak my arm around her waist, craving the contact.

  Both Marcel and Vlad exchange words with Bianca to make sure she is ok.

  "Look at you, lovebirds." Jimenez takes a seat on the chair Bianca had just vacated and looks at us, amused.

  "We finally meet again, Andrew," I add sarcastically.

  His mouth goes up in a cruel smile.

  "Ah, you always were my favorite, Adrian... Did you never wonder why?"

  "Why, was it your guilty conscience?"

  Jimenez frowns for a second before his mouth goes in an O. "I forgot you still believe that nonsense that I killed your parents." He sighs as if it's the most absurd thing.

  "What are you talking about. You did kill them." I say, almost angry that he'd have the gall to deny it to my face.

  "Really? Please tell me how I killed them." What?

  "I heard them that night. They were talking about you and a list of people involved with you. My mother was afraid of you." I say in an accusatory manner. Jimenez looks serious one moment before bursting into laughter.

  "The list. Of course." He shakes his head, still smiling. "Have you never wondered why your mother was so afraid of me?" He tips his head back, waiting for my answer.

  "Because she had dirt on you," I reply.

  "As if." He scoffs. "You think some dirt was going to bring me down? No, your mother was afraid for a different reason altogether. She knew that if I found her, I'd take you."

  "Me? What do you mean?"

  "And finally, we get to the meat of the issue. Let me tell you a short story. When I was a young man, I met a woman. She was unlike any other I'd ever known, and of course, things developed until we became inseparable. But she didn't know what I did for a living. Once she found out, she was scandalized that I was breaking the law, and she tried to escape me. It didn't go well for her. But she tried again. And again. Until one day, she succeeded. But you see, when she did manage to leave, she wasn't alone anymore."

  "What are you saying?" I barely get the words out as my brain is absorbing the information.

  "When Paulina left me, she was six months pregnant. She was clever, I'll give her that. She found a man who married her and gave her the perfect cover. I searched for a long time for her, you know. Most of all because I wanted you. My eldest born." He says, pride showing on his face.

  I instinctively take a step back, feeling like I've been hit in the chest.

  "What did you say?" I croak. Bianca's hand wraps itself around my arm in comfort. She seems just as stunned as me.

  Looking at Vlad and Marcel, though, I can't gauge their reaction to this revelation. Their expressions are blank. If they are just as surprised, they sure aren't showing it.

  "Don't be melodramatic. We're family." He dismisses my reaction.

  "Is that why you killed them?"

  "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't kill them. I would have if I'd known where they were hiding you. But I didn't."

  "If you didn't.... then who else?" I shoot back. Who else would have the motive?

  "Isn't it obvious, boy?" He asks, almost exasperated. "Let me enlighten you. There was only one other person who knew you, Theodore Hastings, were in fact Adrian Barnett. And that was Martin Ashby. He was a smart asshole; I'll give him that. He kept you near and married you to his daughter so he could use you against me."

  "You're saying Martin killed my parents? Why?"

  "Because of the list, why else. Who do you think was the first name on the list?" Jimenez asks, and I can only turn to Marcel, who averts his gaze guiltily. So Martin was among the crossed-out names...

  Twenty years. Twenty years in which I'd had one thought and one thought only.

  Get Jimenez.

  I'd been so single-minded about it that I'd walked through life almost like a robot. Each action serving to bring me closer to Jimenez. And now? Not only did he not kill my parents. He's also my fucking biological father. How am I supposed to take this in? What's the expected reaction? Because I can't even think straight. Everything I'd ever known is...shit.

  "Fuck." I mutter, and Jimenez chuckles.

  "I can't say I regret letting you think I killed your parents. You've certainly done well for yourself in the name of revenge."

  "Did you know about me? When you were posing as Andrew?"

  "Of course. I was alerted to your presence after your parents' death, and I tracked you down. Or what, do you really think it was such a coincidence that you ended up at the Basilica? Please... the moment you walked into Boston; I was aware of your every movement."

  I give a bitter laugh. "So what, you were trying to find a way to
kill me? That's why you got me into the to-the-death fights?"

  "Kill you? Whyever would I kill my own heir? I was making you strong, boy. You needed to grow up and stop seeing life through rose-colored glasses."

  "Am I supposed to thank you then? For making me kill? For making me fight without respite?"

  "Of course." He replies indignantly.

  "Then, I'm surprised you let me go so easily," I add, realizing that he had indeed let me off the hook when I'd run off.

  "I never let you go. I merely watched over."

  "Really? Then why now? Why reveal yourself now?"

  "Because you've reached a position of power that will allow us to consolidate our empire." He says proudly.

  "Our empire? I ask in disbelief.

  "You are now my official heir."

  "And Carlos? Isn't he your son too?"

  "Carlos?" He almost laughs at that mention. "He was just a failed experiment. After Paulina left me, I tried to replicate everything with Elena... Didn't work. But don't worry about Carlos, he should be fish food by now." He adds casually, and I feel Bianca's hand tightening on my arm.

  "He killed him." She whispers in my ear.

  “And Matthew and Quinn Gallagher? How do they figure in your plans?”

  “My father saved Matthew’s life when he was a kid. He owed me, and I always cash in. That they saw the advantage of further working with me is their good foresight. But now that I’ll have you, they’re just extras.”

  "You actually expect me to join you? Are you screwed in the head?"

  "Of course, you'll join me. You're extremely easy to read, Adrian. Did you look carefully at your wife?" He smirks and motions towards Bianca.

  Her eyes widen in understanding before staring at me with horror.

  "He poisoned me." She spits the words out.

  "Remember the myth of Hades and Persephone. She only had to eat a few pomegranate seeds to forever tie herself to the dark side." He goes over the chaise and picks up an empty tea bottle.

  "In your wife's case, only a few sips, and she's forever dependent on me."

  "What did you give her?" Panic is overtaking me.

  "She's fine... for now. It's a slow-acting poison. I can give you an antidote for it every thirty days. But if she doesn't take it, then she'll die in excruciating pain. Is that what you want for your beloved wife?" Jimenez’s mocking tone makes me clench my fists in frustration.

  "Don't. Please, don't" Bianca takes my hand once more and pleads with me. "Don't do this. I'm fine with dying; you don't have to subject yourself to this madman."

  "Are you fucking crazy?" I yell at her, taking her face in my hands. "How could you even ask me that?"

  "Please, Adrian. Don't..." Her eyes are moist with unshed tears. I don't even understand how she thinks I'd even contemplate refusing him. How does she think I can live without her?

  "Fine." I drop my hands and turn towards Jimenez. Bianca makes a grab for my arm, but I push her off.

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Why, it's simple. Take over New York."

  Just as Jimenez says this, I hear the door of the room open again. We all turn towards the newcomer. Everything then happens in slow motion.

  The stranger lifts his arm and shoots Jimenez straight through the heart.

  "No!" I yell, rushing at Jimenez's side. If he dies, so does Bianca.

  No... No... This can't be happening.

  At the same time, Marcel's voice rings out.

  "Tino, no!"

  I'm putting pressure on Jimenez's wound, trying to keep him alive.

  "The antidote...please tell me where the antidote is," I beg him as his life is about to end.

  "N..." He starts, but it's in vain. His heart stops beating, and with it mine too.

  I slowly raise my head to look at Bianca and find her sharing my anguish.

  "B..." She runs to me and hugs me to her chest.

  Jimenez's killer has a proud look on his face and turning to Marcel, he just shrugs.

  "Sorry, fratello."

  CHAPTER XLVI

  I'm holding tightly onto Adrian's arm, trying to prevent him from doing anything stupid, especially when the other man is still holding a gun.

  I understand his anguish, not because I feel it too, but because I am aware of the consequences of Jimenez's death.

  But do I have anyone else to blame but myself?

  When Jimenez had taken me to this room, he'd been nothing but gracious and had started talking to me about his grand plans of taking over New York. He'd started by telling me how he'd managed to ingratiate himself with the Gallaghers. His father, Diego Jimenez, had been an extremely wealthy man in Colombia with tight ties to Escobar. The Gallaghers themselves had long been rooted in the crime scene in Boston.

  Matthew Gallagher's father, in particular, had consolidated the foundation for their illegal fighting empire. At some point, though, he'd gotten into serious trouble with a Mexican cartel, who, coincidentally, was also an enemy of Diego's. And so the Gallaghers had sought refuge with Diego Jimenez in Colombia. Jimenez himself had met Matthew as a child, and they'd become fast friends. And so, a close relationship born out of debt was born. Jimenez had been quick to take advantage of that when he'd wanted to spread his influence into Boston and the East Coast. Using the many connections he'd built at Princeton; he'd amassed a network ranging from the lowest intermediaries to the highest public functionaries.

  The list Martin had so carefully guarded? It held less than a fraction of the people who owed Jimenez.

  "The key to longevity in this life is to lead from the shadows." Jimenez had proudly related. "You were smart to check the photobooks, I'll give you that." At my small gasp, he'd chucked. "Oh, you think I didn't know? It's all the fault of that disappointment of a son of mine. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut. Because of his carelessness, we had to speed up all of our plans, including getting rid of the Agostis."

  "Why didn't you get rid of the photobooks, if you're so smart?" I'd asked sassily.

  "I'll take that as my one mistake. After becoming Andrew Gallagher, it seemed redundant. The Jimenez name was only used to inspire fear. No one actually knew who I was." It seemed off that as proud a man as Jimenez would admit to a mistake. But I'd soon found that not only was he intelligent and cunning, but he was also self-reflexive.

  Maybe that's why his brand of cruelty was so potent because it was borne out of a distinctly analytical mind. With no one to recognize him, he'd been able to slowly consolidate his empire and annex any adjacent smaller powers. He'd been playing games with everyone, but he'd been the only one aware of the rules.

  While he'd not told me the exact reason why he'd assumed the identity of Andrew Gallagher, he'd revealed enough that I realized that the Gallaghers had soon found themselves under his rule. The possibilities had been endless, mostly as Jimenez was slowly but effectively gearing up to take over New York. He'd only had one obstacle—the Italians.

  The five families weren't what they'd once been, he'd happily recounted. They'd split the territory amongst themselves, and more often than not, they were at each other's throats, taking every opportunity to wage war amongst themselves. Jimenez had just played on their own weaknesses by sowing a little bit of dissent here, a little there.

  Soon, the families found themselves isolated and looking at the outside for support.

  It had all been very carefully planned. A character study had given Jimenez the necessary target, banking on Enzo Agosti's desire for monopoly and exploiting his excessive pride.

  "Enzo is...was an architect, just like me. When you encounter your likeness in every way... Well, it's easy to target the weak spots." Jimenez had said, implying that Enzo was probably dead by now.

  "And with the Agostis out of the way, a large part of New York is already mine." He'd smiled at the prospect.

  So engrossed in his storytelling I'd been that I hadn't even given one thought to accepting a drink from him. Not when my mouth was sore and
dry, my tongue still suffering the aftermath of my not so bright plan.

  And this is how I find myself now, looking at a long-drawn-out death, thanks to the same trickery that I'd been admiring only hours prior.

  Adrian tries to shove my hand away and head for Jimenez's killer, but I apply all of my force to keep him rooted to the spot.

  "Why?" A painful cry slips from his lips.

  But then the assailant shocks everyone when he looks at Marcel and adds an ironic.

  "Sorry, fratello."

  Both me and Adrian are now staring at Marcel open-mouthed.

  "Marcel?" Adrian croaks, and a prickling feeling tells me this night of revelations is yet to be over. I sneak a glance at Adrian and see his face morph into a myriad of emotions.

  The man looks at our shocked expressions and laughs.

  "You did good, Marcello. Better than even I could have done it." He drawls. Marcel just looks at him as if he's seen a ghost.

  "Who are you?" I ask, and he gives a sarcastic laugh.

  "Valentino Lastra. At your service." He does a mock of a curtsy with his cane. "Marcello's brother."

  Valentino looks to be in his mid-forties, thin and barely holding himself upright, needing a cane to keep straight.

  "Lastra?" Adrian asks, his eyes never leaving Marcel. "Marcel, what's the meaning of this?"

  "I'm sorry," Marcel whispers, averting his gaze.

  "Sorry? For what?" Adrian asks.

  "Come on, Marcel. Tell your friends what you're sorry for. Or should I?"

  Marcel is silent, his eyes distant.

  "Marcello here owed me a debt. A tremendous debt, I might add." Valentino emphasizes. "And the only way to repay it was for him to shadow you in your quest for vengeance. I knew that you were the most likely person to draw Jimenez out. After which, of course, Marcel would report back to me."

  The moment he says that I start thinking back to Marcel’s actions. There had been times when he’d acted suspicious. But then another thought crosses my mind.

  The list…

  "Is that why you hid Martin's name from the list? You were afraid he'd stop looking for Jimenez if he knew Martin was the one who killed his parents?" I ask, accusatory.