At least for most, the money was worth the risk to life and limb.

  By purchasing the Morales territories, I could double our income in less than a year. At least that’s what I’d been able to determine in the limited time I’d investigated the family and their operations. They were smaller, but extremely profitable.

  They had different connections, their territories stretching further north of Barcelona while ours stretched south by several hundred miles and west toward Madrid. However, both organizations were pinned in by foreigners who’d eventually believe their operations powerful enough to encroach on both territories.

  That couldn’t be allowed to happen. A bloody war would ensue prior to anything of that nature occurring.

  “About tonight, Kruz. No weapons on anyone.”

  “None?”

  “Take them at the door,” I instructed.

  “That’s not wise.”

  The stern look I gave my dictator had him backing down. “I’d like the lovely lady to see I’m a gentleman at heart.”

  “A risky game but noted. What about the Turks?”

  I thought about how to handle the swift turnaround of their original offer. None of this was a game. This was the life I’d been dealt and one I was determined to survive until reaching my golden years.

  “Hunt down the son of bitch I met with. Detain him from heading back to Turkey. Instead, I think I’ll send him straight to hell as a message.”

  Kruz grinned. “My pleasure, my lord.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Genevieve

  “This is risky,” Emiliano said from beside me.

  “Almost everything worth doing in life is,” I answered. I was a nervous wreck.

  “He’s an MMA fighter who owns a club. They eliminate some enemies with underground fights.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He knew I had some martial arts training, but many MMA fighters followed no rules. Still, it was noteworthy.

  The afternoon couldn’t have gone any more slowly. I’d tried to weed through several files of corporate information and what few actual contracts were in place. While Papa had never chosen to call his business a Sociedad Anónima, a public limited company, I’d been at a loss as to just how many of his lucrative operations were handled under the table.

  At least my father had been an avid bookkeeper, even using traditional accounting software. That didn’t make determining the players any easier.

  What I’d been shocked to see was that I’d been mostly wrong about his method of operations after my mother’s death. He’d continued making tremendous headway in overthrowing smaller powers, hiding his income and downplaying his activities. That had made his empire more powerful than anyone realized, including his own daughter. Why did I continue to have the feeling he’d been well aware he was teetering on a dangerous precipice, his death even imminent?

  Everything was still muddled, something I couldn’t stand.

  Besides, the grief had come in waves, the agony leaving me with difficulty focusing. I’d finally given it up a little after noon, also forgoing any food. Now my stomach churned.

  What I had been successful in learning was how much my father had estimated the business to be worth, how much was in his at least six different bank accounts and even about stocks he’d purchased over two decades before. Now they were worth millions. While I wasn’t certain how to estimate the product that was obviously sitting in secure warehouses, I did remember some of what my father had told me years before.

  At least I had a decent figure in mind in case Jago was brazen enough to offer me a buyout.

  I noticed Antonio turned his head slightly. The soldier was paying attention to every word said. He was riding shotgun, a soldier I’d barely been introduced to tasked as the driver. Evidently, the young man my father had assigned to me hadn’t been good enough.

  Everything by protocol. I’d need to figure out the pecking order somehow.

  We were in a very expensive Cadillac Escalade equipped with bulletproof glass and composite armor for the body panels. My father had even bragged all his vehicles came with Kevlar or ballistic nylon tires.

  With the highest performance engine possible, the huge SUV could outrun a significant number of vehicles on the road today. That didn’t mean we were totally safe.

  Two other SUVs flanked us, yet they’d be forced to hang back once we reached the secure gates leading to the Torres estate. I’d read as much as I could on the organization, but as with any crime syndicate, what little that had been noted had been done with limited or unreliable information.

  No one within any syndicate was foolish enough to allow their structural organization or how business was handled to be documented. My thoughts drifted to the 60 Minutes story and interview I’d watched on one of the Mexican Cartels. They’d all been wearing masks, fearful of being placed on the international most wanted list. I’d laughed at their secrecy, but in a few short hours understood the need.

  “You need to be very careful, Madame Morales,” Antonio offered. “Jago Torres is a savage hiding behind sophisticated attire. He’ll cut out your heart before you feel any pain.”

  “So I’ve heard. However, I would say you underestimate me, Antonio. Men only make that mistake once.” I’d learned how to bluff with the best of them from a favorite law professor. I could show no fear or any mercy easily, yet I doubted that would work with a man considered la parca o el carnicero sangriento. The grim reaper or the bloody butcher.

  I shuddered from the thought of meeting him, let alone spending any time with him.

  The driver glanced into the rearview mirror.

  “Don’t challenge him, Madame Morales. He is an angry man.”

  Antonio’s warning was duly noted, but I hadn’t agreed to meet with the notorious leader to act like a helpless female. I’d come to ensure Jago Torres knew my father’s business wasn’t for sale and certainly wouldn’t be taken.

  I’d die preventing that from happening.

  At least Antonio had been right about the overtures, yet Jago’s had been the only one I’d consider professional. At least two other organizations had already circled several of my father’s shipments like vultures.

  I wouldn’t be able to grieve for long.

  “And I am one pissed-off woman, Antonio. As any man who’s faced me in court will tell you, it’s not a pleasant experience when I’m angry.” I’d been allowed to second chair a few trials, a couple of them juicy, but I’d never handled a case on my own.

  That wasn’t something anyone within the organization or anywhere else needed to discover.

  Fake it to make it.

  No one dared say anything else and as the minutes ticked by, I thought about how I wanted to handle the meeting. I hated that my palms were already sweaty. In attempting to act as if I could handle dealing with Torres with ease, I’d made myself nauseously anxious.

  At least I had on my signature red, a power color. That was something else my professor had recommended. Stand out. Never hide behind a man, especially those with gray hair. I’d laughed, but now I understood why. With my four-inch heels, I could easily see eye to eye with a man over six feet. I’d thought about wearing shit-kicker boots, as a New York friend of mine had called them, but I wasn’t ready to present my hand just yet. Let the fucker think I wasn’t strong enough to fight him.

  I bit my lower lip as the driver began to slow. Watching the other two vehicles being forced to remain on the side of the road gave me heart palpitations. This could be the first of many life-or-death performances. An eight-foot stone wall flanked the opening, which I was certain enclosed the entire property.

  The gate was opened, but a guard stepped from an all-brick building, sticking his head inside and shining a flashlight.

  I refused to blink when he settled the beam directly on my face. The bitch inside even managed a smile.

  He allowed us to go through after running a wand under the car. The guard was checking for bombs.

  The house was massive, modern looking with white stone or brick and oversized glass windows. Whereas my father’s estate had been built in the late nineteen-forties, the property nestled in several acres of trees, the Torres property was situated on a secluded hill. My guess was the entire city of Barcelona was highlighted through windows in the rear of the property.

  Lights were easily seen through the blind-less glass, which I had no doubt was also bulletproof. Safety had to remain of utmost concern. Random attacks used to occur with frequency. That much I did remember.

  “You’ll be fine, Genevieve,” Emiliano said just before he climbed from the vehicle. I waited, taking my place as the new lady of the manor until my commander opened my door. He even offered his hand, guiding me onto the aggregate driveway.

  We both knew we were being watched, our actions and reactions noted. It’s what any good attorney would do. Antonio followed behind us while the driver would remain with our vehicle for security reasons.

  Before we even made it to the house, we were stopped by two hulking men who looked very uncomfortable in the suits they were wearing.

  “No weapons,” one of them stated.

  Emiliano growled, acting as if he wasn’t going to comply.

  “It’s okay. Do as they say. We are guests.” I tried to keep my tone light. For now.

  My commander wasn’t quick to comply, but did as requested, Antonio following.

  “Arms out,” the second hulking mass stated.

  I tipped my head toward Emiliano first as a silent command.

  He was cursing under his breath, but did as he was told, the bastard taking his sweet time patting my man down. I almost blurted out that I thought the guy liked it a bit too much but managed to keep my mouth shut.

  When they were finished with my men, I unbuttoned my suit jacket, allowing them to see the interior pockets. “Would you like to frisk me as well, boys?”

  Antonio coughed.

  The two thugs looked at each other. Finally, one just opened the door, allowing us inside.

  I held back a laugh, but not a smile. We were greeted by two more gigantic men who led us from the entrance foyer into the house.

  I wasn’t impressed easily, especially when it came to interior design, but I was captivated with the furnishing and the layout of the sleek home. Surprisingly, a wide-open floor plan had been used, offering stunning views of the city from every room while offering little privacy.

  From what I could see through the glass panels leading into one room, a party was about to be held. Perhaps Jago believed I would cave that easily. What an asshole.

  After making a turn down a hallway, I noticed more traditional walls and a door leading to another room. The men stopped in front of it, knocking once.

  “Come in.” The voice was deep, husky, and full of authority.

  A soldier opened the door, ushering me inside, but stopping my two men.

  “We stay with her,” Antonio stated.

  I glanced into the room, noticing Mr. Torres had his back turned to us. He had his hands in the pockets of his trousers and was staring out glass doors onto what appeared to be a gorgeous well-lit patio full of tropical greenery. I could also see a pool off to the side.

  “Is he unarmed as well?” I asked.

  “I assure you that there are to be no weapons inside my home on this night.”

  An instant jolt of current settled into my nervous stomach. His voice was richer than I’d thought, the deep baritone providing a sense of a soft blanket rubbing against my naked skin.

  “I’ll be fine,” I answered to my men. “I doubt Mr. Torres wants his lovely white furniture to be permanently stained red.”

  Emiliano issued yet another growl, but nodded and backed off, one of the guards closing the door.

  I took another step inside as my host chuckled.

  “Did you have any issue finding my home?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty good with GPS coordinates, la parca. Or would you prefer I call you el carnicero sangriento?”

  My distaste for him was instantaneous. There was no reason other than because he so obviously lorded his wealth over everyone.

  “Bloody butcher. That name always pleased me. What I prefer I cannot often have, Madame Morales, or would you prefer I call you Daddy’s little girl?” He slowly turned around and despite my anger and his obvious amusement, we both registered instant recognition, our eyes opening wide.

  I took several steps closer, my heels tapping against the tile floor as I allowed the horrible images of the night before to trash my mind.

  Blood.

  People running.

  Tables being knocked over.

  And a man with controlling black eyes and lips meant for long nights of kissing. A man so handsome my heart had ached the moment he’d touched me, my breath stolen when he’d dared kiss me.

  That’s when I knew what had happened, the comprehension that he’d been inside the restaurant for a reason jerking my anger to the surface. “You fucking bastard. You killed my father. Now, I’m going to do everything in my power to destroy your entire world and in the end, I will put a knife through your cold, black heart.”

  My voice had increased enough the door was flung open, footsteps heard from behind me.

  Jago threw up his hand, shaking his head. “There is no issue, Benito. We are just beginning our discussion.”

  “You’re certain, Mr. Torres?”

  “Absolutely. We’re fine. Aren’t we, Genevieve?”

  His use of my first name infuriated me even more. The audacity of the man was outrageous. However, my outburst wouldn’t bode well for my reputation or determining what in the hell the man wanted.

  “We’re perfectly fine.” My answer was succinct and I did my best to suck back my rage.

  “Do not interrupt us again,” he told his soldier.

  The door was once again closed and Jago took a step closer. It was difficult not to flinch. When he continued crowding my space, the same electricity I’d felt outside in the hallway of the restaurant tingled my skin.

  He was taller than I’d remembered, at least six foot four. I don’t know what I’d expected, but seeing him in charcoal linen trousers, a lighter shade matching suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and a tight white tee shirt that accentuated his incredible muscular chest floored me.

  His forearms were covered in dark swirls, the ink continuing to his upper hands. I also noticed scrolled black lines resembling vines extending from the thin collar of his shirt, encasing the thick cords on both sides of his neck. Wearing loafers and no socks, he was stylish with a dangerous twist.

  The man was sexy as hell.

  But I refused to allow him to see a single twitch in my facial expression.

  There was no doubt he was waiting for it, studying me with the eyes of a snake and the desire of a vicious predator.

  “I did not kill your father, Genevieve. I respected the man.”

  “Bullshit. If you want this meeting to continue, you will not lie to me.”

  “I’m not used to being called a liar, certainly not inside my house.”

  “I guess you’ll need to get used to several things you don’t like.”

  He scowled at first, his eyes flashing as his temper flared, but he managed to disarm me when he smiled. “You’re very formidable just as your note suggested. Why don’t we start over? Then you can burn a cross into my forehead with your accusations. I’m Jago Torres. Welcome to my home. Would you like something to drink? Wine, perhaps? Champagne?”

  At least he was the one who stepped away first. And so the game began. “Something stronger. Whiskey if you have it.”

  “Ah, whiskey. A woman of discerning tastes. Yes, I do.”

  He turned toward the bar, which allowed me to glance around the room. I also slipped my hand down to the inside of my thigh where I’d hidden a sheathed knife. If anyone thought I’d come to a meeting of this nature without being armed, they were crazy.

  “How did you enjoy spending time in New York?” His question surprised me, which is what he intended on doing. He was making a point there was nothing about me he couldn’t discover.

  “Beautiful in the spring. I enjoyed the food, but the people were horrific.”

  “And Broadway?” he asked as he turned around. “I’ve always wanted to catch a show on Broadway. It’s on my bucket list. I’d be curious as to what’s on yours.” His eyes were pinned on mine, his strong jaw clenched, which made the dark stubble seem sexier.

  His aura exuded power and as he walked toward me, he allowed his gaze to fall far too slowly. He wasn’t just sizing up an opponent. He was undressing them.

  Damn the man.

  “I was far too busy with school and my internship to truly enjoy what the city had to offer.” I accepted the drink and our fingers touched, shooting another wave of electricity through me. My body tensed in reaction, and his dark chuckle enveloped my system.

  “Do I frighten you, Genevieve?”

  “No, is that what you’re attempting to do, Jago?” Two could play the name game.

  “What I’m attempting to do is to simply enjoy a nice conversation followed by what I hope you’ll find to be an excellent dinner with very enjoyable company.”

  “Dinner? With you?” I’d been right about the room. He truly believed if he couldn’t coerce me into selling, he’d wine and dine me. What a jerk.

  “I assure you my chef hasn’t poisoned the food. But if you’d prefer, I’ll taste yours to ensure there is no rogue enemy hoping to kill you inside my house.”

  I had to laugh. “You are an arrogant son of a bitch.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from a woman attempting to fill the shoes of a ruthless man.”

  “I’m not attempting anything. I will handle his business from here on out.”

  He lifted his glass, almost in appreciation. “I stand corrected. However, I will warn you that there are many outside this room who will stop at nothing to take what doesn’t belong to them.”

  “Besides yourself?”

  “You only recently returned home. Yes?”

  There was no reason to lie to him. “Two days ago.”