“I enjoy privacy like Dré enjoyscocáina.” He shrugs. “And I’m always on standby for when you need me. So quit complaining.”
He’s right. If I need a sniper, he’s my go-to guy. Giovanni is our trusted personal sicario—the best I’ve ever known. With his extraordinary skills and lack of emotion, he’s in and out, job done, and then disappears again. It’s not what Papá trained him for, but it’s what he ended up becoming.
“All I’m saying is, you’re welcome to visit whenever you want. I’d come to your place, but I’d need your address first.” I chuckle, knowing he’d never let me in. “What are you hiding in that beach house of yours, anyway?”
“Plenty of explosives to wipe out uninvited guests,” he replies, straight faced, his expression dark and stormy. “Now you’re officiallyeljefe,I’m sure you’ll get an invitation at some point.”
As much as I’m their boss, I get his desire to hide away. Giovanni is a strategic killer who understands exactly what our enemies are capable of—and what Papá had the power to do, too.
“How about we head outside?” I reach for my gun and pat my brother on the back. “Let’s see if you still have the best aim, cabrón.”
20
CARINA
I’m back in Hell.
I’m inside the monstrous residence I’d barely escaped from with my life once upon a time. The winding driveway leading to the plantation was longer than I remember.
A deceitful radiance of lamplight glittering from within gave the mansion an illusion of welcoming wealth. Only I know better than to expect warmth from this family.
The not so discreet soldiers with big machine guns and earpieces watched Tomás escort me into the reception hall. He didn’t bat an eye as if it’s a normal occurrence to have armed men guarding the outside of his mansion. I guess it’s a safety measure following Elias’ murder, and with the whole family in one place, they can’t be too careful.
His palm pressed snugly to the curve of my spine as we climbed the sweeping staircase and strolled through empty corridors clad in weird artwork. Yet, the second we crossed over the threshold of his familiar suite, all contact ceased.
It reminded me of the fateful night when Tomás led me from the stables, soaked from torrential rain, and scared his father would shoot me. As it turned out, his father didn’t pull the trigger, Tomás did, and I have a new scar to prove it.
This time, he locked the door behind us again and stalked away from me, hacking off any grain of chivalry he thought was necessary. His lofty shoulders gathered a skiff of frost from his sub zero mood he’d slipped into.
Now, I’m perched on the edge of his kingly bed, wearing a pearly silk nightdress that creeps up to mid-thigh and wondering if he expects me to wait up. My belly rumbles, nerves dancing their way through my tense muscles.
I notice a television remote control on his bedside table and turn on the flat screen TV stuck to the wall for a measure of comfort. There are hundreds of channels to pick from, but none of them grab my attention. I prop myself up on the bed and continue to flick from movie to movie. Bored of the search, I switch it off and lie there, deep in thought.
I wonder if Sal will snoop around the jazz bar to figure out the identity of my fake fling. Then I inwardly pray that he’ll leave it alone like I asked. He has to trust me to make my own decisions, even if this particular one is off-the-wall dangerous.
In the stillness, gunfire blasts in quick succession from outside. My scalp prickles with a ghastly shiver. I scamper off the bed and dart to the sliding doors, shunting them open and slipping onto the rose scented terrace.
Humidity licks my skin; the sub-tropical atmosphere is close to the Amazon climate I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. There’s a brief amnesty of discord and then intermittent bullets ping, destroying it all over again.
The Souza family is under attack and I’m a sitting duck. I hurry back indoors and head for the closet, rummaging through fitted cabinets, wishfully searching for weapons. I’ve been in this position before and only found car fobs back then.
Once again, there’s nothing remotely dangerous, only high price tag clothes and designer shoes. And I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a loose shoe thrown from across a room.
I give up looking for a hidden wall of loaded guns, grab a hooded top to cover myself and backtrack to the bedroom door, pressing my ear to the wood. Nothing. No thunderous steps from dutiful armed guards or shoot to kill orders.
Unlike the other times I’d spent in this suite, the main door is unlocked. My hand trembles as my fingers curl around the handle. Another explosion of gunfire shatters my nerves. Who knows what I’d face on the opposite side?
Sucking in a lungful of air, I cautiously peer through a sliver of space, searching for signs of life. Content that the hallway is empty, I leave the bedroom behind, my bare feet gliding over plush carpet. My pulse thuds in my skull with every hurried stride.
Before I descend the staircase, I freeze on the top step, my mind wild. Are they being shot at or are they the ones doing the shooting?
From up here I can’t hear a thing, only a ticking clock and the hush it echoes in. It doesn’t take long for my toes to meet chilly marble tiles and I pick a corridor to jog along.
I pass an unoccupied formal sitting room and a windowless nook with a sculpted male bust, his eyes pouring with solidified golden tears and a series of closed doors. The farthest set of doors on this wing takes me to an orangery where huge leafy plants thrive.
Cylindrical pillars guard the entrance and an impressive see-through dome stretches overhead. I scamper further inside, skirting the comfy looking couches, each one dissecting a heated porcelain floor. The mouthwatering scent of chicken and rice fires up my hunger. Though I’m too wound up to eat and plunder the oval buffet table.
More shots are fired from outside. I take cover behind a potted tree and catch my breath. When a new ceasefire casts deafening silence, I snatch an ornament from the side table to my right. It’s heavier than I expected, the yellow sheen making me think the fierce lion donning a crown could be real gold. It could be a decent weapon to bludgeon a killer over the head in self-defense.