by Bethany-Kris
“As long as it’s where the guards can see,” she finally replied.
Chris nodded, peering around to survey the grounds where they could be seen. His gaze lingered on the walkway around the pool for a second, and then two. “Sure. How about around the pool?”
Was that a walk, then?
What did it matter?
“Sure,” she said.
Chris remained quiet as they strolled down the pathway and stayed alongside the pool. Valeria noticed the way he continued to glance towards the calm water at the surface, but not in a way that said he cared for the pool.
“Swimming isn’t your thing?” she dared to ask.
His head snapped in her direction. “Pardon?”
“You stare at the water like it might bite you.”
She didn’t miss the way his throat jumped at her statement, or how his Adam’s apple bobbed reflexively.
“I almost drowned as a child,” he murmured, his tone terse, “and it’s followed me throughout my life. Water makes me nervous, that’s all. Nonsensical, considering I can swim, but I swear I can taste the water in my lungs when I’m close enough.”
Huh.
She wouldn’t have guessed that.
“I’m sorry that happened,” she whispered.
Chris shrugged and smiled again. “A long time ago, I suppose.”
And yet, she bet it seemed like yesterday to him. Because he trusted her with the truth, Valeria would never breathe a word about it to anyone else.
Everyone needed their secrets, no?
That little detail about Chris made Valeria take a second glance at him, not that she needed to be doing that at all. Still, it made him seem different to her and almost easier to ignore the fact he was here to do business with her husband.
Their conversation during the walk around the pool stayed on safe topics, and she still looked for the guards to make sure they kept an eye on her. That way, later when Jorge no doubt asked where she left to, he would confirm nothing nefarious had been going on when his back was turned.
The paranoid bastard.
Although, Chris kept a distance between them. He didn’t get too close to Valeria throughout their stroll, and his hands remained clasped at his back while he did his best to ignore the pool beside them.
“Do you like it here?” he asked.
Random, she thought.
“What do you mean?”
Chris shrugged under the nice fit of his suit jacket. “Here, Mexico. Being the wife of a cartel leader, tucked away from the rest of the world, you know? All these beautiful things surrounding you, and you must have status in your position. Do you like it?”
Not at all.
Not one fucking bit.
Valeria asked for none of those things, and instead, they forced it upon her regardless if she wanted them. When she made it clear, this was not the life for her, she faced the wrath of a man she didn’t think was worthy enough to kiss her shoes.
What choice did she have, though?
“People who live in gilded cages,” Valeria said, tone soft, “often forget that’s where they are after a while. Or we learn we need to forget it to survive.”
Chris looked her way, but she was already staring ahead at the man who had come out to stand on the back steps. Like when Chris had joined her on the steps earlier, she sensed his presence the same way she did Jorge’s now. Except his had been fine, and her husband’s was not.
Jorge looked her way, his face a mask of calm, and his arms folded over his broad, silk-covered chest. He said nothing, but she saw the tilt of his head, a silent demand for her to come his way, and not to say a thing about it. He was famous for his silent commands, and she had learned to fear those more than his outbursts. It was when he was quiet she didn’t know what might come next.
“Thank you for the walk,” Valeria told Chris, “but I think this is the end for me tonight.”
Chris noticed Jorge then, too. “Thank you for indulging me.”
“Of course.”
As much as Val wanted to look over her shoulder as she left Chris behind to head for Jorge on the steps, she didn’t. Jorge hadn’t once looked away from her, after all. While he appeared fine outside, she doubted that he was on the inside.
“Head inside,” he told her as she climbed the stairs, “and stay there for the evening, Val.”
“I only needed a breather.”
She attempted to move past him, but his arm struck out fast, and he caught her at the elbow. To anyone else, she was sure his hand on her body would appear innocent from afar, but his fingers dug in hard, leaving marks behind. Tomorrow, she would have to wear something with longer sleeves to hide the bruises he was creating on her body, not that it was anything new. She had become good at hiding things Jorge didn’t want the rest of the surrounding people to see.
Valeria swallowed hard, knowing better than to tell him to let her go. He would only hurt her worse later. “Do you want me to go inside, or not?”
“Just a breather?”
His gaze burned into hers, searching for the lie.
He would find none.
Not yet, anyway.
“Just a breather,” she echoed. “The house was getting stuffy.”
Jorge let her go. “Head inside, as I told you.”
Like she had a choice?
Valeria went.
6.
“Papa.”
Chris slid in beside his father where Gian seemed comfortable to stand next to a window overlooking the garden on the north side of the property. Quite a large garden, too, and one his mother would appreciate, had she been here to see it.
“Chris,” Gian replied in kind.
“Did they leave you on your own?”
Gian raised his brows, and lifted the drink in his hand for a sip. “I wandered off, but no one bothered to follow me. I figured something else must have taken their attention for a time.”
Possibly.
Or, at least Jorge’s attention.
“I approached her outside,” Chris said, lowering his tone to above a murmur. If he believed Jorge to be paranoid, then even if they assumed they were alone, they likely were not. “We took a walk around the pool.”
Gian cleared his throat. “Do you think that’s smart at this moment?”
“We have to know, don’t we?”
“Know what?”
“Whether this is where she wants to be,” Chris said, shrugging. “I know all signs point to her being taken by force, given what we know, but there was still a possibility that she wanted to be here with him.”
“Was,” his father noted. “Past tense.”
Right.
“She’s controlled here, isn’t she?”
“To be fair, they all are,” Gian replied. “Fear is the first tactic a cartel uses to keep people in line, even their own.”
“Sure, but so much so that to take a short walk with me, she asked that we stay in view of the guards?”
“Some women don’t want even a suggestion of impropriety, Chris.”
His father wasn’t wrong, and he knew Gian was playing the devil’s advocate for him right now. Gian was of the mindset that Valeria didn’t want to be here, and there was nothing to figure out. Chris wasn’t as simple, and needed to be one-hundred percent sure before he started this plan of theirs, and did something crazy.
“I asked her if she liked it here,” Chris added, “and while her response was ... meant to distract me, I still heard what she didn’t say.”
“Hmm. What, then?”
“The husband came out. She went back in the house.”
Chris didn’t mention how, while it may have seemed like he was staring at the sky when Valeria joined Jorge on the steps earlier, he had been keeping one eye on them. He saw it all—the way Jorge grabbed her, like she was property to him, and even the flash of fear in Valeria’s face before she slipped inside the house.
“Tell me,” Gian said, turning to face Chris, but keeping his head tilted down
, “why, even with all the details we had on this situation, that you thought the woman might be here willingly, son.”
That seemed obvious enough, didn’t it?
“I don’t pretend to understand the complexities of other people’s relationships,” Chris replied, “and if people think she would be the first woman to fall in love with her captor, then they would be wrong. I wanted to be sure.”
Gian sighed, nodding. “And you’re convinced now?”
“Undoubtedly. She’s not here because she wants to be.”
Which meant, it was time for them to get to work. Or rather, for Chris to get to work. He needed to get his father out of this country, and work out a plan to get Valeria, and little Maria, out of here, too.
Without Jorge coming after them.
That would be the hardest part.
Jorge chased after Valeria once—hunted her down like a dog. He took years to find her hiding out in New York, but patience and perseverance paid off. That’s what would happen the next time, too. Chris wanted to make sure that wasn’t a possibility for the man when it was all said and done.
So, what did that mean?
Someone would have to die, likely.
It was the approach of footsteps that had Gian and Chris turning to see who found them away from the rest of people at the mansion. Samuel, the youngest Lòpez son, came to stand at the end of the hallway, but didn’t come closer to intrude on their space. Out of the two brothers, Chris preferred this one.
In the single day they had been in the Lòpezs’ presence, Samuel seemed like the easier, more rational of the two that he would need to deal with. Appearances were also deceiving, and Chris wasn’t stupid enough to trust the man, either. He would also keep that in mind.
“Yes?” Gian asked him.
Samuel smiled. “Jorge made your accommodations for the night at a hotel in the city.”
“Thank him for me.”
“Of course. Jorge would like to complete any last details—he hears you want to head out tomorrow, Gian, and won’t have time to do it before you leave. So, if we could do that soon, then we can end this night on a good note.”
“Right, well, we’ll be out in a moment.”
The man gave them a nod before he turned, and left them in private once again. Chris turned to his father, giving him a look.
“What?” Gian asked.
“What are these last details?”
His father chuckled. “A contract, is all.”
Ah, yeah.
Because even criminals took their contracts seriously. It was something Chris had never understood because despite the honor they toted in their oath to Cosa Nostra, there was little amongst the men in the underworld of crime.
“What will happen with that contract once this is over, and we’ve fucked them around?”
Gian grinned, and tipped his glass up to swallow the last of his drink before sitting it down with a loud clink to the nearby stand. “Deal with that when we come to it, fils.”
That sounded easy.
Chris doubted it would be.
• • •
Standing next to his father, just beyond the iron wrought gate that had given them entrance to the Lòpez mansion, Chris tried not to be unnerved by the amount of guards standing around. Sure, he had seen the men over the course of the day, and even when they first arrived, but he didn’t remember there being so many.
Or, perhaps more came out to play when nighttime fell.
Not that it mattered.
He noticed them now.
A good ten guards stood on the stone wall, and some behind Chris and Gian on the sidewalk as they waited for the car Jorge had sent for them. They said nothing and given neither of the Lòpez brothers had come out to wait with them while they left, it put Chris on edge.
He wondered if that was the point.
To his benefit, Chris did his best to ignore the guards, and instead, stared up at the inky sky overhead. There was nothing like looking at the sky when you were in a country that wasn’t your own. He swore it allowed a person a different view—this time was no different for him, watching the stars streak the sky with their brilliance against a dark backdrop.
If anything, that settled him.
But not by much.
Gian checked his phone, unbothered about their current circumstances. “Your mother has been messaging me all day.”
“Worried, I bet.”
“No, she wanted me to bring her back a special treat she likes here. I’ll grab it before I head for the jet tomorrow morning.”
Chris rolled his eyes.
Typical.
His father spoiled his wife to the ends of the earth and back. All his mother had to do was speak, and she would have whatever she wanted in the blink of an eye. No questions asked. Gian had made sure his sons understood that nothing less was acceptable for their mother, and he expected them to treat their future wives, or spouses, in his twin’s case, with the same respect.
A pair of headlights flashed at the end of the street, and a black car crawled to them. The guards all around them shifted their positions, letting Chris know the vehicle was theirs. Once the town car stopped at the curb, Chris didn’t bother to wait for the driver to get out and open his father’s door for him.
Chris did it for Gian.
“Ah, good, I didn’t miss the two of you leaving,” came a voice from behind.
Chris kept one hand on the back passenger door, ready to close his father inside the vehicle should he need to, as he turned to greet the approaching man. Jorge slipped through the slight opening in the gate, his smile friendly as he nodded to Gian in the car.
“I look forward to working with you, amigo,” Jorge said.
Gian replied in kind. “And you, as well.”
Jorge came close enough to clap a hand on Chris’s shoulder, grabbing tightly when he added, “And I am sure your son here can take care of all the details you need, but I will keep you informed in the meantime.”
“Perfetto.”
“Have a good night, Gian, and a safe flight tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” his father replied.
Gian gave Chris a glance, and so, he closed his father inside the vehicle. Jorge had let go of Chris’s shoulder, but when he moved to round the vehicle and get in his side, the man blocked his path.
Jorge’s smile dissipated. In its place rested a blank mask, and cold eyes. He stared Chris down like he meant for it to be intimidating, but it was merely annoying. Not that he showed it.
“Yes?” Chris asked. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Jorge’s lips quirked up at the edges.
A hint of a smile.
It wasn’t kind, though.
No, it kind of felt threatening.
“There is,” Jorge said.
“Do tell.”
Chris didn’t wonder what people saw in Jorge Lòpez. He didn’t assume what the man had done, or was capable of, that made people terrified of him. Hell, his family had control of a good thirty percent of Mexico—from small businesses, to entire towns, and even the goddamn government.
No one became that powerful by being nice or playing fair. This man had spilled a lot of blood to get here and would spill as much as he needed to get whatever he still wanted to go.
That, primarily, was what made Jorge more dangerous than people could understand. His unstable mindset, his uncaring attitude, and his willingness to be irrational to get what he wanted made him tricky to deal with. Chris needed to consider all those things on this job, or it would be his life that ended before his time was up.
Chris understood fine and well why he should be afraid of this man, and yet, he still figured ... Jorge Lòpez was just a man. Another man in this criminal world of theirs with a big fucking ego, and a gun to match it. And like all men who assumed they couldn’t be beat; it only took the right man coming up against him to get it done.
Chris would be that man.
Just not tonight.
&
nbsp; “Well?” Chris asked when Jorge stayed silent.
“I tried to find the right way to phrase this, but perhaps being blunt is the better option, sí?”
“I prefer a man who is frank rather than one that hides his issues or intentions behind the guise of politeness.”
Jorge nodded. “I will remember that, then.”
“And?”
Because he didn’t think this man had approached him for that exchange, to be honest. He wasn’t disappointed.
“For future reference, Christopher, if I catch you with my wife where the guards cannot see you, I will cut off your hands, and have them delivered to your mother in a box lined with satin. I hope I have made myself clear.”
Well, okay.
He always had appreciated a good threat, even if it was leveled on him. Maybe there was a broken part of him, but he always took them as challenges. Undoubtedly, his twin would tell him to be careful here, to be mindful of where he stepped with the man in front of him. His twin wouldn’t be wrong, either.
“That so?” Chris asked.
“It is.”
“Hmm.”
Jorge arched a brow. “Are we clear?”
Chris’s jaw tightened.
Jorge never looked away.
“Crystal clear,” Chris murmured.
“Perfect. Have a good night, and I look forward to working with you in the coming weeks when we get things settled for you to come in again. Next time we meet, I suspect it’ll be at the ranch, although most of us call it the compound.”
Yes, and he looked forward to that.
Not that Chris said it out loud.
“Of course.”
All at once, Jorge stepped back from Chris, that kind—but fake—smile firmly back in place as he gestured at the car. “Safe travels to the hotel, amigo.”
Friend.
Right.
They wouldn’t ever be friends.
Chris didn’t reply, simply nodded to the man, and turned his back to him. The one and only time he would ever put his back to Jorge, all things considered. Rounding the car to get in the back with his father, he looked over the roof of the vehicle in just enough time to see Jorge head back through the gate.
