“The exact same thing happened to Alfredo Colombo. Everyone dead, his entire family wiped out. His entire organization. His ships, crew, everyone. Now, it seems, it is happening here, like a disease, a cancer spreading, and we have no idea who’s doing it.”
“I doubled security on the grounds and inside the house as you instructed,” Guillem said. “Who would dare to come after us like this? Which family thinks they are big enough to take over our territories?”
“The only one with large enough balls would be the Rodrigo family, but I had them checked on and none of them or their soldiers are in Barcelona. I don’t believe they are this clever. I think we’re under attack by the Ferraro family and the Archambaults.”
Guillem shook his head. “We did nothing to bring the attention of the Ferraro family to us. Nothing. We can easily wipe out the Archambaults with one phone call.” He snapped his fingers.
“There have been rumors for years about the Archambault family, whispers that said they are very much like the Ferraros, but I paid them no attention,” Arnau said. “Valeria listened to a conversation that took place in Riccardo’s study just before he supposedly went insane. He had invited Valentino Saldi and Dario Bosco to meet with him in order to either offer them to come in, bringing the Ferraros with them, or compensate them in some way for putting them on a hit list.”
“Bullshit.”
“We were going to kill them eventually, but if we could get Ferraro under our thumb, we would have it made, so Riccardo tried to entice both Valentino and Dario by offering them a piece of our business. Valeria reported that Elie Archambault suddenly showed up in the office with them. She couldn’t tell where he came from. Apparently, the guards didn’t see him and he wasn’t caught on camera. Not coming or going. Riccardo got angry with him and Elie told him he would regret his decision to murder his wife. That he would take away everything from Riccardo before he killed him. Then he walked out and disappeared.”
Guillem swore. “Have you found a connection between his wife and the Ferraros?”
“I received a photograph of that troublesome woman being escorted down the aisle by Stefano Ferraro at her wedding to Elie Archambault.”
Arnau stepped forward to show his son the photograph of Brielle Couture in her wedding dress, on the arm of Stefano Ferraro.
“That bitch,” Guillem snarled. “How many tries and no one has killed her yet?”
“This worries me,” Arnau admitted. He dropped into a chair. “Why isn’t she dead? She should be. We’ve tried so many times. A bomb that missed. Two full teams sent to her husband’s house. That’s ten men, experienced men, Guillem. Then one of our best information men, Asier Fredrick. How long has he worked for us? Years. No one has ever suspected.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. “He had a team with him. They’ve all disappeared. Some of our best men. We lost a couple of men we had planted in Saldi’s organization.”
“That was the nosy bitch. I’m sure of it,” Guillem said.
“Probably. But how is she getting her information? Who’s leaking it to her? She had rendezvous times with the freighters at sea. Did you know that?” Arnau peered across the room at Claudia. “There were only a couple of people who knew those times and coordinates.”
Guillem followed his father’s gaze. “Not Claudia,” he denied. “She would never put her father or me in danger. It had to be someone in New York or LA. No one here would dare leak information. They know you’d kill every member of their family.” Eyes on his wife, he snapped an order. “Claudia, get us drinks. You know what Padre and I prefer. Hurry up. I’m thirsty. And clean up the glass around the fireplace.”
He turned back to his father. “Did Angel step up his security? Maybe you should have him come to the main house.”
“I told him to come. He won’t. He thinks I don’t know about his lover, Guillem, but I know all about his pathetic friend, Rey Estay. That will get him killed if he isn’t careful. You should talk to him. Better yet, go in and put a bullet in that worthless Estay’s head and drag your brother out of there.”
“I spend a lot of time putting bullets in my brother’s lovers’ heads,” Guillem said. “When he’s tired of them, he comes to me and cries like a baby. Says he can’t do it himself because he still loves them but they’re getting too clingy and he’s worried they’ll do something stupid and endanger the family.” He sighed. “I guess I can go get him and bring him to your house.”
His father looked past him to Claudia, who hadn’t moved. “Your wife seems to have forgotten all the training you gave her, Guillem. You were so patient and took so much time making certain she understood that we don’t allow our women to run our lives the way they do where she comes from.”
Guillem swiveled his chair around and glared at his wife. Even with his sinister scowl, she remained defiant, unmoving from what she must have thought was the safety of her corner. Her husband leapt from his chair and stalked across the room, his hands curled into tight fists.
Arnau gave his daughter-in-law a cruel smile. “You really do need to remind your stubborn wife of her duty to you periodically, Guillem. Perhaps schedule her for training with the other women and girls we get from the States. Clearly, she would benefit.”
Guillem swung his fist, his knuckles connecting with Claudia’s jaw. She was flung like a rag doll out of the narrow chair she was in, her body flying from the corner toward the bank of windows where they spent so much time viewing the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.
Arnau threw his head back and laughed gleefully. “About time Riccardo’s little princess realized she serves men, not the other way around.”
Guillem followed the flight of the body, watching the way Claudia landed on the hardwood floor, her head hitting, almost bouncing, arms and legs flopping, truly like a rag doll, with no attempt to cushion the fall. He slowed his approach and rather than pull back his foot to deliver a kick, he crouched beside his wife and touched her neck tentatively. His breath seemed to hitch.
“She’s dead, Padre. Her neck is broken. I didn’t hit her hard enough to break her neck.” There was that hitch in his breath again. He gripped Claudia’s shoulder and then stood up abruptly, his gaze scanning the room sharply. “Someone’s here. In this room with us now. Someone else killed her.”
“You hit her pretty hard,” Arnau observed.
“No, she was already dead,” Guillem reiterated. Still looking carefully around the room, he backed up to the chair he’d been sitting in and picked up his automatic. “We have to go, get you in the safe room and make sure Madre is alive. Right now. I know someone is here. Call Angel. Tell him we aren’t playing games and they killed Claudia.”
Arnau didn’t waste time arguing with his son. He called Angel’s cell. It rang and rang. He looked at Guillem, sudden fear creeping into his eyes. “He always answers me.”
“I have to get my son. I’m not going without him,” Guillem said. “Come with me. We shouldn’t separate.” He indicated the elevator.
Arnau pushed himself out of the chair just as his phone rang. A smile burst over his face. “This must be Angel.” He answered without looking. The smile faded immediately and he began to swear. “Impossible. That’s not possible.” He looked at his son. “Find it, José, or you’re a dead man.” He stabbed at his phone with a shaky finger to end the call. “José says every account we have is wiped out. All our businesses are gone. Burned to the ground. The safes are empty. Every single one has been attacked.”