Yours (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 4)

by Elena M. Reyes

  “Why were you in Colombia with Javier Lucas?”

  My blood runs cold at that. How the hell…

  “Are you having me watched?” His lack of a response gives me the answer I need, and while inside I’m fuming—wanting to strangle the man—my expression remains unemotional. Cold. “I guess this is a trait passed down from generation to generation.”

  “Are you fucking that—”

  “Where is my mother?” Dad doesn’t like that I interrupted nor my line of questioning, but I couldn’t care less and match his icy glare. “What did you do to her?”

  “She isn’t of your concern.”

  “And my life isn’t of yours.”

  “Mariah,” he spits out, but his attention isn’t on me but someone on the other side of the phone. It’s a woman’s voice, speaking low, but I catch part of their reflection in the windowpane behind my father. She’s familiar. Someone I’ll be paying a visit to soon.

  “Get to the point.” Walking to the fridge, I pull it open and take out a can of pop. “Some of us would like to eat dinner in peace.”

  His eyes snap back to mine and the woman turns her face, but I do catch a better look. Mildred, you stupid bitch. “I’m not above hurting my daughter and you’re pushing me, sweetheart. Back down and do as you’re told if you want to see your mother again.”

  Popping the top, I take a large sip. Noisily, which I know annoys him. “What is this going to cost me?”

  “Malcolm is currently holding control of the Frederick’s laboratory in Utah. Get me the—”

  “No.”

  “The fuck did you just say?”

  “I said no.” Then I take another sip and smile. “Mom isn’t dead, and I will find her.”

  “The hospital will never release her without my signature.”

  “Maybe, but you just signed your death warrant.” Disconnecting the call, I quickly press the number for Malcolm and wait. It rings twice before there’s an audible click.

  “Did he call you?”

  “He did. Much sooner than I expected.”

  “Was anyone with him?” His ire matches my own. A familial betrayal cuts deep and the punishment is served without mercy, something I am okay with.

  “Mildred.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow.” We hang up and I go on with my evening. Within the last week, we’ve watched videos, gone through endless files, and started the search for my mother. Mildred Frederick and my father have been corroborating for the last few years on unapproved medical testing for a few viral strands that have been slowly growing overseas but haven’t hit the States, and yet, their end goal is a worldwide bidding war.

  That’s their goal, but I have mine.

  I want their blood on my hands.

  “Thank you for your time.” For the sixth time today, I hang up the phone and close my eyes. It’s taken me a few days to narrow down my mother’s location after Dad’s video call, and she isn’t in a mental institution. She isn’t in Europe either.

  Looking down my list, I cross off another women’s shelter in Indiana and sigh.

  For some reason, she’s back in her home state and hiding. Using cash and prepaid cards, but facial recognition has come a long way and Erik found a video clip of her at the aquarium with a group of kids no older than eight.

  My mother wasn’t dressed as the society queen she once was. In a pair of dark-wash jeans and cream-colored blouse, she walked with the group from exhibit to exhibit while answering what she could—helping this one little girl in particular that seemed too small to play with the others.

  “Why hasn’t he called me?” I ask aloud, rubbing my temples when footsteps approach. They’re heels, the clacking loud within the open space, and I look up in time to watch Mildred try and sneak past my desk. “Take another step and adhere to the consequences.”

  Mildred’s head snaps in my direction, face pinched tight in anger. “What did you say?”

  “Are you deaf?” Shuffling the list of numbers in Indiana under a financial report, I raise a brow. “Well?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she turns to fully face me. “No. I’m not.”

  “Then you know I both find both irritating and disgusting,” I sneer, catching Malcolm’s imposing figure standing just within the entrance to his office. “Leave.”

  “You have balls for a secretary.”

  “And we both know you spread those legs for anyone, my father being one of them.” Standing from my seat, I open the drawer to my right and pull out a gun with two bullets. “Married men. Engaged men. Do you sleep with family members too?”

  Her face goes from furious to near ghostly white. Fake tears gather at the corner of her eyes. “How could you say something like that to me? I’m a respected member of—”

  “Please cut the bull, Mildred. We both know what cloth you are cut from.” Picking up my Glock, I pull the clip out and insert the two bullets before resetting with the safety off. “Why are you here? And don’t give me some line about an appointment because you don’t have one. You have two minutes to explain.”

  She fidgets, eyeing the weapon in my hand. “Malcolm called me to go over our merger. We’ve come to an understanding.”

  “Lie. Try again.”

  “It’s the truth, Mariah. Call him and ask.”

  “Again, that’s a lie. One more chance.” I raise my hand and point toward her chest.

  Mildred shakes, but her eyes are full of hate. Her animosity is palpable and so is her greed. “I came to talk to Malcolm about my brother and company. We need to come to an amicable agreement.”

  “Is that so?” My cousin steps forward now, a smile on his face and Mildred calms immediately.

  “Yes.” Her response is low and meek, and he’s the epitome of gracious when holding a hand out. “I’m very sorry for showing up without a prior appointment, but please, I need—”

  “No worries, Ms. Frederick.” His eyes snap to mine and harden a bit for her benefit. “Put the gun away and show some respect, Mariah. She is a customer and must be treated as such. Understood?”

  “Of course, Mr. Asher.”

  She’s smiling at his reprimand. She enjoys me being put in my place.

  Stupid fucking woman.

  Mildred is pushing her luck with me, and if she catches me on the wrong day, I’ll be the one putting a bullet between her eyes.

  24

  “HAVE YOU HAD any news on his whereabouts?” I ask Malcolm, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder while Alejandro and Emiliano hold a meeting inside the family compound. We’ve been here for the past two weeks, smoking out those responsible for my mother’s death, while they try and hide.

  I know where the three men are:

  The shooter. The enabler. The general of Colombia’s army.

  They’ve been lying low and I haven’t. The country—the president—wants me for my crimes but don’t have a shred of possibility without cause and evidence. You can’t be proven guilty of words alone, and the citizens demand proof of the murders committed.

  “Her father is in Athens, Georgia.”

  “And the whore?” Because I’m well aware of the second set of roses Mariah received, even though the stubborn woman hasn’t spoken of the incident. Nor did she tell me of her encounter with Mildred a few days ago. I might not be there, but I have ways of keeping tabs. “Has she left the state?”

  “According to Mildred, she was heading home last night to Utah. She’s put her home on the market and there’s been an offer.” He chuckles, the sound of papers shifting coming through the line. “Her plane landed two hours ago in Atlanta where she rented a sports car, and she is on her way to see my uncle.”

  “How many are tailing her?”

  “Three, and two on him.” At his response, I hum, scratching the five-day-old stubble on my chin. “They’re too cocky and reckless. Antonio was honest in what he’s shared so far.”

  “He’s been useful,” I admit. “Has his sister asked for the body again?�
��

  “No. My word that he’s dead sufficed.”

  “And the Dermots?” Both Lane’s mother and father were killed last week—an unfortunate incident at their vacation home in Italy. House fires are a dangerous thing, and unfortunately for them, I traveled to the Italian countryside to play with matches. “Does Mariah know? Are the other two making any moves?”

  “Negative, but her brother did warn us before you left. They’re staying quiet as all avenues begin to close.”

  “Evening, gentleman.” Malcolm steps into the room, nodding at the guards standing watch. “Antonio. Delia.”

  “Boss,” his men answer in unison while I grab a chair and take a seat, keeping my eyes on the bloody man in front of me. He fidgets. She whimpers.

  “The food has been ordered as Mr. Lucas requested.” Carmelo hands over the credit card I’d given him and I pocket the plastic square, not taking my eyes off Antonio and Delia. These two know more than they let on, and I’m not taking any chances with Mariah’s safety.

  “Thank you, kid.”

  Malcolm drags a chair beside mine and we wait. And wait. No one in the room says a word until Mrs. Frederick breaks the silence. “Is there any scenario in this where we don’t lose our lives?”

  An honest question, and Malcolm nods. “There’s always an open option, but the outcome lies solely at your feet.”

  “What do you need?” she asks, gripping her husband's hand tightly in hers. “Name the price and it’s done.”

  “The truth,” I answer for him after having discussed this development. “We want the full story, Antonio. Why did you try to kill Mildred and then turn your wife into her replica?”

  The male twin sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, wincing from the pain of Malcolm’s bullet. “My sister was sleeping with Lane Dermot and working with his family on a shady contract with an overseas investor. The laboratory was being used as their personal tester, playing with viral agents that we’ve yet to encounter as a society—creating and testing—for a profit. This wasn’t about the betterment of the world, but a fat profit. One she was going to use to order Mariah’s death.”

  Every muscle in my body locks down and beside me, Malcolm is just as angry. Fire burns through my veins while the need for vengeance—her blood—grows. “What else? Who else is involved?”

  “Her father.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Malcolm hisses, fingers twitching on the gun sitting atop his thigh. “Why did you do it? Jealousy or anger?”

  “Fear.” Antonio looks over at his wife and his expression softens. It’s full of so much remorse. “I was afraid that if the Ashers caught wind, we’d go down with her sinking boat. It was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan, but I never thought I’d be the catalyst.”

  “Which brings me to my next question…” Asher sits forward, eyes hard on the couple “…why try to move money through me if you’re being investigated? What kind of game are you playing?”

  “I’m not.” Antonio shakes his head rapidly, sweat dotting his upper lip. His wife isn’t any better; her body’s shaking and leg bouncing. “I came to you because we had to keep up the appearances of nothing being wrong. Had we gone with a different financial institution; more flags would’ve been raised. You would have asked around or demanded to know the why.”

  “And the federal investigations?”

  “Mildred.” Delia spits out the name with so much venom. “She sent them to the lab, even though we stopped all experiments the day I switched into this role. He screwed us on the records we kept in boxes down in the basement, but no active work was being done at the time.”

  “But trust me, my sister is cunning. And when push comes to shove, she’ll hide to save herself.

  Alejandro snaps his fingers and I look up, pulled from the memory of a few weeks back. My hunch about Mildred Frederick was on point, and the woman didn’t disappoint. Rats never stay hidden for long, and I know she’s digging around. Looking for payback.

  “Parce, look at the screen.” Emiliano points, and I pay attention to the footage playing on the giant TV screen. It’s of a small, worn-down home a half an hour from the Presidential palace, inside of a community owned by the central bank of Colombia’s owner. He hasn’t remodeled it since the purchase, nor do people reside within the subdivision’s gates. The home on the screen is large, and in its prime, I’m sure cost a pretty penny, but that’s not my focus.

  There are four cars parked outside, but not all seem occupied as the drivers begin to step out.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask, and on his end of the line, Malcolm’s gone silent so I can understand my cousins.

  “Three bodies inside.” Alejandro takes a sip from his water, eyeing the screen.

  “What’s the fastest ETA?” I ask them while the man behind the wheel of a black Hummer gets down, his eyes darting around. Moreover, it’s when he knocks on the door that the camera angle changes. This is a live feed from a front-door transmission, and I smile.

  We have the shooter on the screen.

  Then the enabler opens the door.

  And I hear the clear voice of the General coming up from behind my mother’s killer.

  Alejandro hums, fingers typing on his phone. “Taking back roads and avoiding the expressway, I say twenty minutes at the most.”

  “Suit up.” They nod at my command and empty the room, going in search of what we’ll need for this. We won’t take security or have these three picked up; I’ll take my pound of flesh without pause the second I enter that home.

  “My guess is you’re heading out to play a game of catch?” Malcolm chuckles, and the clink of a glass follows the question. “Alone or with a team?”

  “Absolutely, Asher. It’s my favorite pastime. My cousins enjoy it as well.”

  He chuckles and then sighs. “Be careful and keep a cool head.”

  “Always.” I know he’s not being intrusive or trying to tell me how to handle myself. I’ve gotten to know him on a personal level while here; our phone calls and worry over Mariah has created a bond that we both appreciate. He’s family to me. He cares about everyone who bears my last name since I signed the contract, but more so since my mother’s passing. “Besides, I can’t give your cousin a reason to shoot me. I’m planning to grow old and grey with her.”

  “Good.”

  “What? No warnings to slow down and—”

  “Come home and marry the woman, Javi. She’s not letting you go.”

  “And I was never leaving. I’ll text you later.” With that, I hang up and pull up her contact.

  I love you with all my heart, Muñeca. I’ll be home soon. ~Javi

  The gate to the community has two armed guards standing out front and they’re busy talking when we pull up. They’re laughing, the one to the left throwing a punch to the arm of his friend after a joke, and completely oblivious of the three men stepping out of their cars until Alejandro slams the door.

  Then two sets of eyes are on us, weapons pointing our way. “Who are you? This is private property and—” Two bullets and they hit the ground, a hole in each forehead. The silencer from my gun doesn’t make much noise, and the hard cement cradles the impact of their corpses.

  “Right or left?” Emiliano asks, and I tilt my head toward the right, following the sound of Vallenato playing loudly. The beat pulses as the male singer declares his love for a woman who he’s never so much as kissed, while the off-key voice of a heavy smoker follows.

  The sound of splashing water comes from a home three down from where we stand, and it’s quickly followed by laughter. Female giggles and male chuckles as someone shrieks. And begs.

  “Please stop this! I don’t want to get in!”

  “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Luisa.” It’s one of the men, his speech a bit slurred. “It’s just water. Nothing will happen to your hair.”

  “Take me home.”

  “No.”

  We share a look before taking account of the car with two gu
ards sitting inside. This old, black beater wasn’t in the video earlier, but I recognize the uniform and its military. They’re young, more than likely just following orders, but it doesn’t stop Alejandro from killing the two with a single shot that travels from one head to the other, a straight shot through the ear.

  Their heads slump forward, and I nod, impressed. “Nice one.”

  “I’m an environmentalist.” He shrugs, and I chuckle. Asshole.

  “Front door or back?” Emiliano asks, and I point toward the main entrance. And we find it unlocked when entering the home a few minutes later. The music is louder from here and the place is trashed, dirty, but the men seem to be enjoying themselves.

  It’s a straight shot from the front door to the sliding glass that leads out back, and I step out first amidst empty liquor bottles. It’s disgusting, the stale stench a little nauseating, but I’m smiling as I shoot the enabler from my place just over the threshold. He falls forward and into the pool, his blood spreading out.

  The women scream. The two still alive scramble for a weapon.

  “You four need to get the fuck out of here.” Alejandro points the end of his Colt at the group of college-age women panicking on the pool’s steps. “You have two minutes to gather your shit and run.” They don’t move and he sends out another shot. This time it hits the cheap speakers beside the drink table. “Hagale.”

  They try to rush past us, not taking a single item with them, and Emiliano takes their phones. “The keys to the Hummer are on the kitchen counter. Grab them and go. Understood?”

  “Si, and we won’t say anything,” a small brunette answers and the girls leave without further prompting, leaving the two assholes in nothing but their boxers outside. They have guns, but their hands shake. They’re scared, but don’t have enough common sense to try and escape through the back door a few feet from them.

  It makes sense when I look around and find a table with cocaine and a few cut lines on a mirror. Fucking idiots. “Please have a seat.”