The questions were formidable, but at least a justification for taking Christine with me.

  Not that I needed any.

  However unhinged my manner of thinking was, there was always merit for a touch of insanity in my world. That’s what kept me mostly sane.

  Now I’d concentrate on the bad taste filling my mouth. Malcolm was a vile human being deserving of exactly what was going to happen to him.

  I laughed softly to myself and pulled her phone into my hand. While I’d forgotten to learn her passcode or to snap a picture of her face for photo recognition, as soon as I pressed my finger on the screen, her screensaver was the last nail in the coffin.

  The photograph was of Christine with a little boy in her arms. Christine was smiling, her eyes lit up with the same fire I’d seen so many times. But there was a slight difference. Those stunning eyes the color of spring were filled with joy, not anger.

  And the adorable little boy was laughing.

  I rubbed my thumb across the photo. She deserved to be happy. Maverick deserved to be in his mother’s arms.

  Too bad what I’d told her about heroes was the truth.

  Slowly exhaling, I returned the phone into my jacket pocket. This was still going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 13

  Kruz

  “You’re using a silencer tonight, boss? That isn’t like you,” Benito said as he flanked my side.

  I peered down at the weapon in my hands, shrugging. “If the child is in the house, I don’t want him disturbed.” Most men in the Torres employ had no understanding of the caution needed when raising children.

  Not that I was some expert.

  Yet I knew the basics.

  “Ah, got you.”

  I peered up at the structure, shaking my head. The man lived opulently. As I’d expected.

  Meanwhile, Christine lived in poverty.

  A disgrace.

  My home was surrounded by a stone wall, guards approving anyone entering my property, those without invitation turned away. Generally, four soldiers walked the several acres of property every night, at least one man, usually a driver with me at all times. My vehicles were all altered, including bulletproof glass and reinforced steel on the body panels.

  The windows inside my home had also recently received an upgrade to bulletproof. That had been after Fassi and his Turkish cohort had attempted to take out the Torres Empire. It would seem resting on our laurels had been overblown. Even our reputation as being little more than savage thugs hadn’t kept them from attacking.

  I found it interesting that either arrogant, wealthy men acted as if no one would ever dare cross the sanctity of their home, or guarded it like Fort Knox, believing themselves to be akin to God. Fortunately for me, Malcolm believed himself to be untouchable. That made entering his home that much easier.

  There wasn’t even an alarm system, which did surprise me. Miami wasn’t known for its high lawfulness. Yet I’d take the win without complaining. With lights on in the house, someone was inside. Perhaps he had housekeeping working late. I wouldn’t put that past him either.

  I despised men like him.

  My luck continued with finding the side door off the garage unlocked. I walked in and the automatic light overhead turned on. That allowed me to see the man’s collection. Selling a single one of the vehicles could pay for somewhere decent for Christine and her son to live.

  Not his son.

  Her son.

  The man was racking up points that didn’t lead to a prize at the end.

  Unless someone enjoyed eating a bullet.

  After rolling my hand across the different hoods and feeling warmth from one, I felt fairly confident Malcolm had arrived safely. Luck of the draw being able to escape the carnage.

  Either that or he’d been warned at what time to leave the residence.

  Sadly, his luck or good fortune wouldn’t last.

  While I certainly wouldn’t consider myself a humanitarian under the best of circumstances, I wasn’t desensitized to death and the meaning of taking a life. I’d done so with care over the years, unlike the majority of cartel members who killed indiscriminately.

  In my line of work, this was entirely too personal.

  I’d always been extremely focused when entering any situation. Without full concentration, I’d be rotting in the ground somewhere if not burned at the stake. I was good at what I did because it had never been done with emotions.

  Until now.

  If I could spend the time making him suffer the way he’d done with Christine, that would make me the happiest man in the world. But I couldn’t. I’d be forced to settle for his death by my hands.

  I moved toward the interior door, both my soldiers following behind me. As anticipated, the door was unlocked, allowing us inside the house with no difficulties.

  If only all nighttime maneuvers could be this easy.

  There were two doors in the large kitchen, a single light on over the stove. I moved toward the sink, glancing at the few dishes inside. As soon as I did, my muscles tensed. There was a plastic cup with a lip and straw along with a small plate inside.

  The boy was here.

  Yet another complication.

  I motioned Benito and Carlos off to one side while I took the other. It didn’t take long to determine where the bastard was holed up for the night.

  Using a single finger, I pushed open the door, taking a good look at the interior of the room. Some might call it a man cave with dark wood and a dartboard on one side, and leather furniture than had seen better days. There was also a makeshift bar, although it was not something I’d allow inside my home.

  And as almost every red-blooded male in the States, he had a huge big-screen television against one wall. How the hell could he even see anything given the furniture was so fucking close? Maybe he was nearsighted.

  The sound was also so loud there was no chance he heard our approach. If the child was in the house, that also meant he couldn’t hear if the boy was in distress. Or even just experiencing a nightmare.

  That fucking made me hate him that much more. Every child needed to be comforted after a terrible dream.

  I walked closer, still holding the weapon in both hands, but keeping it lowered. The man wasn’t any threat at this point.

  Benito grinned when I glanced in his direction and both my soldiers moved against the opposite walls, mostly for the show. I could handle one man easily on my own. Maybe I’d make it interesting and use my knife. The thought perked me up more than before.

  What the hell was he watching? It looked like some stupid movie where only the dumbest people on Earth embraced the comedy.

  Perhaps he’d yet to hear the news. Maybe it was time to break it to him.

  With his feet propped up on an old coffee table, a beer in his hand and leaning back against the sofa’s cushions, he paid no attention to me when I walked toward the plug, yanking the cord for the television.

  “What the fuck?”

  As soon as he jerked forward, I tilted my head, shaking it a few times. “You should be watching the news.”

  He swallowed visibly and slowly placed his beer on the table. At least his feet were off. What would his mama think about his actions? “What news?”

  Interesting. He was already squawking instead of snarling like he’d done before. My guess was that he’d had an eye opening as to who I was. That was good since I loathed being forced to explain myself to idiots.

  That usually took too much time.

  “Your girlfriend is dead, killed by soldiers in an attack on her home.” I’d be damned if he didn’t have a confused look on his face. “Ms. Cordello?”

  He certainly didn’t act like the news hit him too hard. “Sorry to hear that.” He grabbed and took a long pull on his beer.

  I sighed and glanced from Carlos to Benito. This was what the Americans called a man who thought his shit didn’t stink. Typically, things were so much easier. I’d go into a business or home, wipe out the soldiers guarding the place with a spray of bullets, and find the asshole I was really looking for hiding under a cabinet or in some useless panic room he’d believed would protect him. Then I’d enjoy making the choice of how to end his life.

  Often, I took hours simply to send a message to others. The bloodier, the better.

  That usually calmed the waters for weeks, if not months.

  But with a man like Malcolm, too much effort just wasn’t worth it.

  Besides, I had a plane to catch.

  “I don’t like you, Malcolm. Not at all. And when I don’t like someone, they tend to get on my nerves. When that happens, I become cranky. Tell him what happens when I get cranky, Benito.” I lifted my head toward the man and immediately Malcolm was on his feet. “Sit. Please. His answer doesn’t require your approval or your opinion.”

  Fortunately for him, he didn’t argue with me, easing back down onto the couch.

  “The boss isn’t a happy man,” Benito said. He knew what I was like when I got into one of my moods. The less he said, the better, because he could egg me on, and forget unhinged. I’d shift straight into irrationally disturbed.

  That meant people died in a very messy way.

  “Who are you, Malcolm, and why bother hooking up with Christine? Why the change to Tonya?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He was already grating on my last nerve. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were going to marry one, but oops, decided on the other. That meant you and your family had something better to gain. What is it?”

  He didn’t seem inclined to respond. With barely any movement, I shot the bottle in his hand, shattering the glass all over him. He jumped several feet off the couch, yelping like some kid. If the immediate stench told me anything, it was that he’d pissed in his fine linen trousers.

  Antics weren’t typical, but I wanted answers and with a child in the house, I refused to allow him to accidentally wander into a horrible situation that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  “One more time and my aim will be a little to the left and a few inches higher.” He knew exactly what I was getting at and covered his prized jewels with one hand.

  At least he was paling.

  And coming close to slobbering.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked, as if he hadn’t understood the straightforward question.

  “The truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you’re a good boy, I might allow you to live. That’s up to how much you cooperate.” I moved closer, placing one foot on the coffee table. If he could do it, so could his guests.

  He swallowed again and darted a quick glance toward Benito as Carlos came forward from the other side. Now he knew he was surrounded.

  Just in case he’d had any thoughts of running away.

  “It’s up to you,” I told him.

  Malcolm shifted on the seat. “Look, I do what I’m told. That’s it. I was supposed to marry that bitch, but she didn’t want to play ball.”

  The analogy alone pissed me off. Who’d want to play with him?

  “But you decided to stick it to her by taking her son. Classy.”

  “He’s my blood. My heir.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Go on.”

  His nervousness continued, sweat beading across his forehead.

  “Other arrangements were made. So what? Tonya was a better catch anyway.”

  “What would it matter to you?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I do what I’m told. I stand to inherit everything.”

  “From your father.”

  “Yes.”

  Sighing, I thought about what he’d told me. He was nothing more than a puppet for his father. Typical. “What does your father do?”

  He obviously didn’t want to tell me.

  I put a couple of bullets in his prized television. I thought he was going to cry.

  “The Diamond Exchange.”

  “The New York Diamond Exchange?”

  “Yes,” Malcolm huffed like there could be no other. “He’s the president of the Diamond Dealer’s Club.”

  The news was unexpected and a perfect Easter egg. With Tonya’s affair with Fassi, that meant he had a safe and legitimate place to launder his diamonds. Perhaps we hadn’t made a dent in his supply after all. If I had to guess, I’d say Fassi had lured Malcolm’s father into an unholy alliance with a series of promises. What his father was clueless about was that Fassi didn’t work with partners.

  Tonya had been a loose end. So was Malcolm, although he was obviously too stupid to realize it.

  “That’s very helpful, Malcolm. See how easy it was to cooperate with me?” He certainly was no career criminal. If he had been, he’d swear for a few minutes he knew nothing in a convincing manner, not caving like some frightened little boy. It certainly cut the time needed. Did the knowledge make what was about to happen to him unsavory?

  Not in the least.

  “About Maverick. Just for the record, he doesn’t belong to you.”

  “He does now.” That was the tipping point, the moment when Malcolm had been too stupid to realize or care that a very bad man had a gun pointed at his head. Well, I’d yet to make that threat but he should get the point.

  He didn’t.

  So I did what needed to be done and likely what should have occurred months, if not years before.

  I put two bullets in his head.

  The smirk was still on his face as his head hit the cushions.

  Another kill that had absolutely no satisfaction. When I returned to Barcelona, I would need to exorcise some demons. I grinned at the thought. Maybe I’d join the ranks of mixed martial arts fighters in Jago’s stable if only for a fight or two. What the hell?

  There was no need to clean up the mess. If he had any staff, they’d do that for me. I unscrewed the silencer, returning it and the weapon to my jacket pocket.

  Plus, I didn’t mind leaving my calling card so to speak. The word was out on the street members of the Torres Cartel were in town. Maybe that would put the fear of God into them. Even across the ocean, having my name in the forefront of other cartel minds wasn’t a bad thing. That kept any riffraff from daring to cross the big ocean.

  As I left the room, I took a deep breath.

  Another wave of exhaustion rolled into every muscle. The aches and pains were a reminder I wasn’t twenty-five and eager any longer. Maybe I just needed a vacation.

  So did Christine. That was obvious.

  Perhaps I’d taken her to the beaches of Southern France. She’d love it there. So would the kid.

  I headed up the stairs, still cautious, but if anyone else was in the house, the person would most likely be a nanny or maybe an overnight housekeeper. My guess was they’d keep quiet.

  With the right incentive of course.

  The hallway was long with several rooms. I opened every door, finding nothing but expensive furniture and boring artwork. The man obviously had no taste. I continued to try to figure out what Christine had seen in him in the first place.

  He was prematurely balding, his paunch from days spent in front of the behemoth of a television instead of cage fighting or boxing. Even jogging. Plus, he had horrible taste in clothes. Something else I prided myself in.

  For a monster, I did enjoy a nice suit when the situation required it.

  The last door at the end of the hall was partially open. The bastard hadn’t installed a baby monitor. Did he really think he would be able to hear the boy? Maybe I was wrong and the kid wasn’t here. That would grate on my last nerve. If I had to go searching for the boy, I’d kill the bastard all over again.

  Remaining as quiet as possible, I opened the door, easing inside. Instead of the amazing racecar bed and superhero comforter, there was a twin bed with a dark comforter. Instead of sweeping works of playful art on the walls, the paint was beige. Instead of books and toys lined up against the wall just waiting for a child’s imagination to take hold, there were four toys in the room. Four.

  My jaw clenching, I walked inside, moving toward the bed. As I peered down, a strange ache pulsed through my system.

  Not just anger or even disgust.

  Instead, I felt a strong wave of protectiveness.

  Yeah, life had just gotten entirely too complicated.

  CHAPTER 14

  Christine

  Kruz’s scent was everywhere, on every surface in my apartment.

  Even though I’d taken a hot shower, the tough, masculine hint of my shower gel mixing with his natural odor of all male lingered like a bad seed.

  An omen.

  The bastard really did expect I’d go with him to another country.

  Hell, no.

  Not in this lifetime.

  I’d meant what I’d told him. I still had some fight left in me.

  I yanked my hair into a ponytail, making faces at myself in the mirror as I did. I’d slapped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt even though the humidity and my anxiety made everything damp in the swelter of night.

  I could swear his scent just grew stronger.

  When I left the bathroom, my eyes wandered to the shopping bags that had been carefully placed on my bed by one of Kruz’s men. There were at least fifteen of them in various shapes and sizes. All the items had been purchased with blood money.

  How many people had died in order for me to be gifted such treasures?

  A cold chill swept through me and I walked closer, slowly running my fingers across three of the bags. I couldn’t keep them. That wasn’t the kind of girl I was. They’d been purchased for me as bribery. To keep my mouth shut.

  If I’d known what I’d been walking into, I would never have allowed him to rip out his wad of cash.

  Oh, that horrible man.

  Voices sounded from the other room. He’d returned in all his glory. I glanced back at the bags then to the partially closed door. As before, I’d been told not to close my door all the way. Andres, if that was the beast’s name who’d been left to watch me, had even knocked on the door twice. Once when I was in the shower, but I’d heard him.