“It’s not a bluff,” Dominick continued. “I know everything about you. I know everything about Lucy Kincaid.”
Through clenched teeth Sean said, “Then you know who her brother is.”
“Of course. And you know he no longer travels south of the border. The Kincaids are off-limits, as long as Jack minds his own business. But Miss Lucy is going to be a Rogan, so she is fair game, whichever side of the border she is on.”
Sean leaned forward and whispered, “If anyone touches her, the wrath of a thousand gods will rain down on you and yours.”
“Now you know how I feel if your brother continues to interfere with me.” He didn’t break eye contact, but leaned forward, almost as if he were going to kiss Sean. “I could kill you both and be done with you, but like you said, there are others who may seek retribution. This is the agreement. Take it, or die.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kane picked the handcuffs with the pin Gabriella had slipped him earlier. Flores wasn’t stupid—he hadn’t left Kane alone in the room. A guard inside and a guard outside.
But still, only one to deal with at a time. Small consolation.
Sean had given Kane the signal—by requiring proof of life. When Kane saw Sean with Dom, he knew the plan was on. That his little brother got this far was a testament to his talents, but they were far from out of the woods. Even if this was an even exchange, they were still at risk. That Kane intended to destroy the Flores crime family tonight just added another element of danger. Because in no scenario that he and Jack could conceive would they be allowed to walk away with Jesse Spade without a distraction. Not with the fortress the Flores family had built and the people they’d bought. If they could have grabbed him at the stadium, it would have been much easier.
Little in Kane’s life was easy.
The outside guard came in. He said, “Jasmine is here.”
“No shit?” the inside guard said. “Fuck, I wish I could go home.”
“You and me both. Dom is furious. He didn’t know.”
“He didn’t?”
The guards found that interesting, and it weakened their boss in their eyes. Dominick Flores was supposed to be all-knowing, all-seeing … that his own sister was here without his knowledge would taint his authority.
Kane didn’t know much about Jasmine, the illegitimate daughter of Don Flores. She lived in the States; her mother had been a nurse in Corpus Christi when the elder Flores met her forty-plus years ago. Flores had kept the nurse in style for years, and had apparently loved her so much that her death from cancer when Jasmine was in college had devastated him greatly. He’d left a substantial settlement to Jasmine and her younger sister in his will. As far as he knew, the younger Flores had no connection to the family, moving far away to the Northeast. But while Kane had heard that Jasmine had a relationship with her half brothers, he’d never heard that she was involved in their business affairs.
But if she was here, chances were she was as involved as any of them, just better at staying beneath the radar. And she lived in the States. Not his battlefield.
The two guards chatted a bit longer, but Kane only paid attention with one ear. He’d already unlocked the cuffs, but he didn’t dare take them off with both of the men in the room. He wished they’d wrap up the gossip session because, while it was interesting, Kane didn’t have much time.
The outside guard heard something in his earpiece a few minutes later, and walked out.
The inside guard smirked at Kane. “Your brother came through,” he said in broken English. Did he actually think that Kane wasn’t fluent in Spanish? Fool. “Dom isn’t going to let you live, you know that, right?”
Kane didn’t believe anything this idiot said because he was a gossip, and Dominick Flores was too smart to trust his expendable men with key information.
Of course, if Dominick found out that Kane had set this whole plan into motion, he would certainly attempt to have him killed.
Kane hoped he wasn’t around at that point.
The inside guard was small and wiry. He also had an earpiece, but for listening only—if the wearer wanted to speak, they had to press the SPEAK button on their lapel, otherwise there’d be too much interference. Good equipment, but definitely not state-of-the-art.
“Bathroom,” Kane said.
“Hold it,” the guard said.
“Asshole,” Kane muttered.
The guard scowled and crossed the room to show Kane who was in charge … he raised his hand to smack him.
Kane jumped up, grabbed his arm with his left hand, twisted it around his back, used his right arm to reach around and grab him by the neck and snap.
He was dead.
Kane removed the earpiece and put it in his own ear. He disabled the microphone, so he could hear what was going on without fear of anyone hearing him. He took the guard’s weapon, a shoddy-looking 9mm that wouldn’t do much damage unless it was up close and personal. He searched him further and found a switchblade—not bad. Kane pocketed the 9mm and kept the knife in hand. A quieter way to silence someone if he had to.
The door was locked; a fail-safe, he supposed, but hardly one that would keep anyone in or out. Besides, he had no plans on using the door.
While Flores had outstanding external security, his internal security was less than adequate. There were no alarms on the windows or doors—and being on the second-floor south wing provided additional cover. He opened the window and slipped out. The decorative ledge was narrow and Kane wasn’t positive it would hold him, but the drop wouldn’t kill him.
Though the patrolling guards would if they heard him fall.
He put the knife in his mouth and shimmied over two windows until he reached a balcony.
Kane quietly climbed over the metal railing. A creak had him stopping, listening. He heard voices outside and down below—he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were definitely a two-man patrol. Again, smart on Dominick’s part. He should have had two men guarding him on the inside. While Kane would have been able to take them both out, it would have been noisy, cutting down his lead time.
He listened again—they were moving away. Good. He didn’t have much time.
He carefully ran on light feet to the opposite end of the balcony, past two sets of French doors and two windows. They were partly lit, so he had to be quiet. He then put his hand on the handle of the third set of French doors. There was a light on, but he watched through the thin curtains and didn’t see anyone. He had the blueprints of the house firmly in mind, thanks to Gabriella. Of course she could be lying to him. She could have set him up.
But he didn’t think so. Not this time.
He pushed down on the handle. It clicked open. It didn’t mean anything, it could have simply been unlocked … or it could be a trap. But it was a small sign of hope.
He slipped into the room. It was a small sitting room. This was the suite Carson Spade shared with Jesse. Carson had a bedroom and den to the left, the windows that Kane had just passed. Jesse had a room on the right.
This all depended on Jesse now.
Kane walked to the door. He heard something behind him, in Carson’s room. Then nothing. Carson was up, but he wasn’t coming to the door. Kane opened Jesse’s door and closed it immediately behind him.
Jesse sat on the end of the bed playing a handheld video game. He was fully dressed. He had a backpack at his feet. For a split second, he looked so much like how Kane remembered Sean as a kid—hair too long, dimples that could get him out of trouble, but the tense jaw that said he was ready for a fight.
Jesse looked up. He whispered, “Sean was right.”
“He usually is, kid.”
Kane only marginally relaxed. Gabriella had done the two things Kane needed her to do—tell him which room was Jesse’s, and deliver Sean’s message.
“I saw you yesterday. Who are you?”
“Kane. Sean’s brother.”
Jesse tilted his head. Again, that inquisitive, too-smart
look that Sean always wore. “My uncle.”
“Call me Kane.” He half smiled. “Less weird.”
“What now?”
“You can’t bring anything.”
Jesse glanced down at the backpack and nodded. He tossed the video game on the bed.
Kane reached under the mattress and retrieved a phone.
Thanks, G.
Okay, she had come through. Kane was going to owe her big time if they got out of this alive.
“Wow—I didn’t know that was there.”
He put his fingers to his lips. He sent Jack a message.
Got the package.
Kane listened. There were footsteps in the hall. They weren’t rushing, but that didn’t mean anything. He turned on the earpiece. No chatter about his escape.
Jack responded.
In position. We have company.
That must be Jasmine Flores, the half sister the guards were talking about.
“Now what?” Jesse asked.
“We wait.”
“Okay.” Jesse said. “I’m not good at being patient.”
“Neither is your dad,” Kane said. “Your real dad.” He took a good look at the kid. He was family. He was a Rogan.
Kane would die to save him.
* * *
Sean had counted down in his head after he signaled Kane. He’d seen the guard at the door go into the room for three minutes before exiting; that was going to cut everything far too close. But Sean trusted Kane.
It would take ten to twelve minutes for the guards to find the bag, assuming they drove the mile to the oak tree, then walked the hundred yards to the hedge. Give them a few minutes to look, though they might locate it immediately if they were competent. They’d call it in. By that point, Kane should be out of the room and with Jesse.
Thirteen minutes had passed, according to Sean’s internal clock, by the time Dominick’s phone rang. He didn’t say anything, just listened.
“Very good,” he said.
He smiled at Sean. “We have the bag. It appears intact.”
“I’m also a man of my word. You can bring my brother down.”
“I’ll wait.”
“For what?”
“To ensure that you don’t have a team ready to storm the fence when my men return.”
Sean laughed. “Okay, I suppose that wouldn’t have been outside of reason. But there’s a storm coming in at dawn, and I don’t like flying through storms.”
“I’m sure you can handle it. Or stick around for the rest of the night. I have plenty of room.”
Sean wasn’t positive he was joking.
There was some commotion in the foyer and Sean jumped up.
“Sit,” Dominick ordered.
Sean tensed. He complied, only because he needed to give Kane more time. Two more minutes.
The doors opened into the atrium. A striking woman with dyed honey-blond hair walking in heels that could kill a man strode through the cobbled floor right over to Dominick. Jose was behind her along with another man—Alberto, most likely—who had his arm around a young blonde carrying a baby. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty, and she looked physically sick.
Sean recognized all of them from Siobhan Walsh’s photos. This woman, the one Lucy suspected of selling black-market babies, was Jasmine Flores.
In that moment, Sean put it all together. Carson Spade’s urgent trip to Mexico came the day after Marisol de la Rosa left her baby at the church. Jasmine moved all the girls out as fast as she could, suspecting what? That Marisol would go to the police? Or maybe the fear came after Siobhan Walsh started asking questions. They would know that if the FBI was involved, they might be able to burn a few of their shell corporations, so they’d need their accountant and lawyer—Carson Spade—to create a new set of corporations. And because they wouldn’t trust him—no one wanted to be working against the clock when the FBI was breathing down their neck—they wanted to keep an eye on him. It would also be easier for Spade to set up bank accounts from a home base in Guadalajara than from a home base in Los Angeles.
There’s no way that Carson told Dominick that Madison had sent Sean down here … in fact, Madison didn’t tell Carson who she’d sent because otherwise Dominick would never have agreed to this meeting.
Unless it was a trap.
Sean watched the Flores family carefully. They weren’t overly concerned with him; Dominick was focused on Jasmine.
But he spoke his first words to Alberto. “Take the girl and your kid to your suite. I’m in the middle of a business transaction, and they’re a distraction.”
Alberto sneered at Sean, but he was focused more on the blonde. “It’s a boy, Dom. The first Flores heir.”
Dom was more than a little angry, but he said, “Congratulations, Alberto. We’ll arrange for the christening next week.”
“Marcus,” he said. “Marcus Alberto Donald Flores.”
Dom glared at Alberto until he walked up the stairs opposite from where Kane was being held—or had been held, if all had gone well.
“I’m not happy,” Jasmine said.
“Can we discuss this in the morning?”
“No. Where’s Carson?”
“I assume sleeping. It’s after one in the morning.”
“Wake. Him. Up.”
“He’s set up a parallel structure, moved all the money, shut down the compromised corporations, and I verified the funds were transferred. What is the fucking problem, Jasmine?”
“The fucking FBI is the fucking problem, Dominick,” she snapped. “Some bitch photographer turned over her photos to the FBI. Including one of me. They didn’t have a photo of me! Until now.”
“They don’t know it’s you.”
“They will. You know people won’t keep their fucking mouths shut. It’s just a matter of time. They raided the law office this afternoon. They’ll eventually trace the companies to me. My name has been clean for years. Why do you think I kept the King name?”
“Your name is Flores; it’s never been clean, so don’t play the innocent card, Jasmine.”
“And then I land here after a horrific flight and get a call—Lance is dead. So is his entire team. The fucking FBI found both houses where we stashed the girls after I had to shut down the safe house. So not only did I lose my investment, I have no fucking staff!”
“Jasmine, we have company, calm down.”
Jasmine turned to Sean and scowled. “I don’t know you.”
“And,” Dominick said, “you won’t see him again after tonight. I had Flora prepare the Rose Suite for you. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“Have you listened to anything I’ve said?” Jasmine paced. She was acting wired—as if she had partaken in some of the illegal substances that the Flores family was known for smuggling.
Or maybe she was fueled on anger. Either way, Sean couldn’t let this woman know who he was, who his family was. She was too volatile, and even if she didn’t put it together right away, she most certainly would know Kane. If not by sight, by name and reputation.
“Have a drink.” Dominick snapped his fingers and the bartender brought out a bottle of French Cabernet that went for easily three hundred dollars a pop.
Jasmine smiled. “Thank you, Bernie, you remembered.”
“Always, Ms. Jasmine.”
He opened the bottle and poured her a glass. Dominick glanced at Sean, but Sean couldn’t read his expression.
Jasmine sipped, then pulled out her phone. She had a number on speed dial, and waited. “Carson, were you sleeping? Good. Then come down to the courtyard. We need a plan, and we need it now.” She hung up.
“I don’t need to be part of this,” Sean said to Dominick.
“And you are who?” Jasmine snapped.
Dominick reddened. “Jasmine, a word.” He walked across the atrium and Jasmine hesitated, then followed, a bit more nervous. Sean couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he was ready. He hoped. He had the exits identified, but chances were they were
covered. And anyone on the landing above would have a clear target.
Shit. They had two plans—the first, for Sean to get out the front entrance, then head around to the southeast corner, on the assumption that they’d bring Kane to him. The second, if Dominick stalled or didn’t bring Kane out, Sean was to slip out a side door that Gabriella was supposed to have cleared for him. He stared at it. It was partly obscured by the bar, but she’d told Jack it would lead directly into the kitchen, and the service entrance off the kitchen would be unmanned. Sean didn’t know what Gabriella planned to do—probably kill the guard and assume Kane and crew would be blamed. But a kitchen would have knives, and Sean could arm himself.
Dominick walked back to Sean. Jasmine sat on a lounge chair, kicked off her heels, and sipped her wine, purposefully ignoring them. “My sister is justifiably angry. Your money has cleared the gate. Wait in the foyer; I’ll have my men bring your brother down the back way.” He glanced at Jasmine. Dominick hated her. It was clear as day. But she was family. Blood.
Blood always wins.
Kane had told him that over and over again.
Dominick extended his hand and Sean took it. A sign of respect that Sean didn’t feel, and Dominick could see that, but it still pleased him that Sean went through the motions. “You hope I never see you again.”
“Ditto.”
He started toward the foyer. As soon as he reached the double doors, they opened and in walked Carson Spade.
Carson stared at him and Sean pretended he didn’t recognize him, but the moment passed quickly. Carson hit Sean in the jaw. Sean was able to duck, but Carson still grazed his chin.
“Flores! Do you know who this—” Carson stopped mid-sentence and ran across the atrium.
“Carson!” Jasmine shouted. “What are you doing?”
“He’s here for my son!”
It was clear both Jasmine and Dominick were confused. But as Carson ran up the stairs, a guard emerged from Kane’s room. “He’s gone!” the man shouted.
Sean didn’t wait. He bolted. Someone fired a gun, but he didn’t know if it was at him or Carson. All he knew was that the bullet didn’t hit him.
He almost ran out the front door, but three armed men were running up the drive toward the house, so Sean went right, around to where he hoped the kitchen was, based on the intel they had.
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