When Fates Align

by Isabelle Richards

  “Two nights ago, we attempted to extract the boy,” Nigel says. “I haven’t gotten a full report yet, but something went awry, and it turned into a firefight. Because of the intensity of the situation, my team aborted the mission, concerned about the risk to the boy. Four of my team members were wounded, and they took out fifteen of their men. It was a bloodbath. Oaxaca took credit for the attack, and Morelia retaliated. They went to a small boys’ school under Oaxaca’s protection and murdered everyone. Six nuns and forty-three boys.”

  I gasp. “Oh dear God.”

  I vividly see a school yard peppered with laughing boys in cute uniforms, then I see that same school yard covered in carnage, looking like something out of a slasher flick. My stomach lurches, and I sprint from the room. Desperately trying to keep down my breakfast, I throw open door after door, looking for the bathroom. After the fifth wrong door, my breakfast can’t wait and I retch into a pot in the corner of the room. After expunging everything in my body, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand then collapse onto the floor.

  Gavin hands me a wet face cloth then sits next to me.

  I look at the porcelain pottery I just vomited in. “That was expensive, huh?”

  He takes the cloth from me and wipes my sweaty forehead. “I don’t care about the vase. I care about you, luv.”

  “It’s probably fifteenth century something-or-other, right?”

  He smiles. “Twelfth, but honestly it doesn’t matter.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder. “So I’ve destroyed priceless art as well as the lives of children.” I hold up my finger. “And nuns. Can’t forget about the nuns.”

  “Lily—”

  I try to rub away the tension in my temples. “Forty-three children, Gavin. Forty-three. What have we done?”

  He brushes the hair off of my forehead. “This isn’t our fault. We couldn’t have predicted this.”

  “We should have! We know this is how they operate.” I slap my forehead, hoping to smack some sense into myself. “We got those boys killed!”

  He pulls my hands away. “Stop, luv. We tried to save a little boy. I’m gutted by what happened as well, but I don’t regret going after the cartel. Someone has to stop them. If it can’t be their government, or yours, or mine, then it will be me. I can’t just sit back and let them terrorize innocent people like this.”

  “If we keep trying to stop them, they’ll lash out and obliterate anything in sight. If we don’t, their reign of terror will be endless.” I drop my head in my hands. “Why do the choices have to be so hard? There are no right answers, just a series of wrong answers with varying degrees of consequences.” I look at Gavin. “I’m in over my head. I can’t do this anymore. I still want to find a way to take them down, but this isn’t it.”

  He holds his hand out to me. “If anyone can concoct another plan, it’s the men in that room.”

  I take Gavin’s hand, and he helps me to my feet. I thread my fingers through his as we walk back to the study. With each step, I consider the potential impacts of my decision. This time when I enter, all eyes are on me.

  Max jogs across the room and puts his arm around my shoulder. “You okay, Slugger?”

  I shake my head then turn to Nigel. “I’m sorry for not asking earlier. How are your men?”

  “Nicked up, but they’ll be okay. Thank you,” he replies.

  “Please tell them how much their efforts mean to me.” I sit and fold my hands in my lap. “I know you’re all used to this. It’s part of war, I suppose. You accept the collateral damage because you’re working toward a greater good. The ends justify the means. But I can’t live with myself after this. I wanted to annihilate Morelia so they couldn’t hurt anyone else, but I never gave a thought to how many people would be hurt in the process. I know if we continue, this will just get bloodier and I just…” I look at my hands. “I just can’t. We need to pull back until we can come up with a plan with fewer casualties.”

  “You’re such a coward,” Isla says from the doorway.

  “Isla. How nice of you to join us,” I mutter.

  “This is how cartels work. They slaughter in the most spectacular fashion so that everyone is afraid to act. Is it awful those children were killed? Yes. But how many more children will die if we don’t stop them? You’re just giving into the bully, reinforcing their behavior.” She looks at Gavin. “I thought you said you wouldn’t stop until you ended them?” She points her thumb at me. “She goes spineless, and you back down? Have I just been wasting my time here?”

  Spineless? Since when is caring about people being spineless?

  “You’re out of line,” Gavin warns.

  Richard puts his hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Simmer down. She’s just blowing hot air.”

  Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Isla crosses the room and looks at Nigel’s maps on the table. “So explain this to me, Lily. When Nigel’s teams were blowing up plants and burning down farms, those casualties didn’t bother you?”

  “What causalities?”

  She smirks. “Did you really believe you could set the forest on fire without scorching a few bunnies? People are going to die. Some will deserve it, and some will be collateral damage. That’s the ugly side of war, and dearie, this is war. Don’t pretty it up and try to fool yourself otherwise.”

  I look at Gavin. “What is she talking about?”

  The words leave my mouth, but I already know the answer. Nigel told me they were strategic when they selected the places to strike, but that doesn’t mean they swept the buildings to make sure there wasn’t a farmer sleeping in a barn or a worker staying late at the processing plant. I’m so damn naïve. All this time, I’ve thought I’m some sort of hero, ridding the people of Mexico of this cartel, but I’m no better than they are.

  Isla points at me. “I knew this would happen. She doesn’t have the constitution, and everyone kowtows to the princess!”

  Nigel looks at Isla. “No one’s backing down. We just need to discuss how we want to move forward. This was a horrible tragedy, but there are still a number of potential sex slaves being held in a dungeon that we’re not going to abandon. No matter what the cost.”

  Fuck, how could I forget about those poor people? He’s right. We can’t forget about them, but how? How do we save them without risking other lives? How do we say which lives are worth losing and which are worth saving? Who the fuck am I to make these decisions?

  He turns to me. “Lily, I know this may be jarring to hear, but this is the mission, and we have no intention of caving to terrorists. If I wasn’t fully committed to this cause before, I am now.”

  Peter gets up and sits next to me. “This stuff can be tough to swallow. You wouldn’t be human if it weren’t. But you have to trust us. We’re very good at what we do. We’ll find a way to get the boy and the hostages. It’s not that we value life any less than you do, but we’ve seen firsthand that the path to defeat tyranny is often a bloody one.”

  I nod. “I’m in over my head here.” I look around the room. “You all have so much more experience at this, and I hope you can bear with me, because I will fall apart when I hear that innocent people have died. ‘The ends justify the means’ doesn’t fill the chasm in my heart caused by knowing I had a hand in innocent deaths. When we save those hostages, maybe I’ll look back and think that everything that happened was tragic but worth it. To be honest, I can’t see that, but I hear you when you say this is the only way. I’m on board.” I hope to god this process doesn’t harden me to the point that news like this doesn’t break my heart.

  Nigel claps. “Good, now that’s settled. The hostages are Morelia’s only hope of revenue right now, so they’ll have their best people guarding them. We need to come up with a way to loosen up the security. Any ideas?”

  The boys bounce ideas around, but I’m too distraught to follow along. Isla actually looks happy, or at least as happy as she can look. She has one of those faces that would make her a runway model or perfect for a vampire
movie, all brooding and sullen. A smile would look almost out of place on her.

  My head throbs, so I lean over to Peter and whisper, “I’m going to track down some Advil. I’ll be back.”

  I sneak out the side door without any intention of coming back. They don’t need me, and I really don’t need to be there for this conversation. The nice thing about being in a building bigger than the White House is it’s easy to hide. I find a room on the second floor that hasn’t been opened up yet and sneak onto the balcony. Thankfully the roof overhangs quite a bit, so it keeps the balcony covered from the driving rain. I lean on the iron railing, the cool metal stinging my skin. The frigid air burns as I gulp it in, trying not to hyperventilate.

  The door opens behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see Gavin. “How did you find me?”

  He points above the door to a camera I hadn’t noticed. “The eye in the sky is everywhere.”

  I bang my fist on the railing. “I can’t even hide right.”

  He steps forward and leans on the railing next to me, a hesitance in his movements. “I know this is difficult.”

  “Running away to Alaska is looking better and better. Ever been crab fishing?”

  “If I’m ever lucky enough to get you alone on a boat—just you, me, and the ocean—I promise it won’t be in Alaska.” He flashes me that sexy smirk that dulls the panic raging inside me. “We’ll be somewhere warm, where clothing is very optional.”

  “How do you do that?” I ask.

  “Do what, luv?”

  “Make me feel better with just one look?” I lean my head on his shoulder. After a quick whiff, I pull away. “You smell like an exhaust pipe on a Mack truck.”

  He blushes. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to shower. It’s been a long night.”

  “So is this why you didn’t come home last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was worried it was because… well… I know you were hurt. I thought maybe you needed some alone time.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulders. “Lily, I would never not come home just because I was hurt. I’m not going to lie, I was disappointed in your answer. I was caught up in the moment, and you weren’t. But nothing’s changed. We’re still together, and I love you more than ever. We’re perfect.”

  He’s underplaying it, I can feel it. His eyes don’t have the same sparkle, his voice doesn’t have the same tenor, and his gaze doesn’t quite meet mine. But he’s hurt and probably embarrassed, so rather than make a big deal out of it, I decide to let it go.

  “Yeah, we are,” I reply with as sincere a smile as I can manage.

  The wind picks up, making me shiver. He moves to my right then pulls me in front of him so I’m leaning against him. He wraps his arms around me.

  “This may lighten your spirits a bit. I received a call from Lorenzo’s nephew last night.”

  I spin around so I can face him. “What? Why did he call you?”

  “He said Lorenzo left you something that had to be hand delivered, but he didn’t have a way to reach you, so he called Edwards. He’s in town and would like to meet you.”

  “How can I meet him? I’m supposed to be dead.”

  He brushes a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Max disagrees with me, but I think we can trust him. I had Roger check him out, and whilst he has a few splotches on his record, for the most part, he seems like he’s on the straight and narrow. After the cartel killed Lorenzo, he’s more likely to be on our side than against us. Plus, Lorenzo was important to you, and you never had the opportunity to mourn him properly. Meeting Gio might be good for you.”

  “Will you set it up?”

  He kisses my forehead. “Of course.” Wanting more than a peck on my forehead, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him, but he pulls away and covers his mouth. “Cigar breath. It’s lethal.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lily

  Gavin and I debated about whether or not he should be here when Gio arrives. While part of him feels the need to keep me in his sight twenty-four hours a day, he finally agreed to let me do this alone. I’m not sure if he actually saw things my way or if, between last night and this morning, he doesn’t want to push his luck. If Gio is anything like Lorenzo, he’ll be over-the-top secretive, and maybe he’ll be more relaxed with me than with us. Max, Peter, and Roger are here and armed, and while Gavin claims he doesn’t tell them to watch over me, I know he does.

  Gavin’s time will be much better served working with Nigel, Richard, and (gag) Isla on a new plan. We need some ideas, and we need them fast. Not only do I want to get Ash’s kid out of there as soon as possible, but I can’t be dead forever. There must be a solution that doesn’t involve trapping me in this house for the rest of my life.

  I’m reading when Mason opens the study door. “Mr. Grimaldi.”

  I look up, and there stands Lorenzo, only fifty years younger. I gasp as he steps into the room. He has the same olive skin, light eyes, and nose with the slightest bump. Lorenzo’s hair was white as opposed to Gio’s inky black, but they have the same thick mane and straight hairline. Gio has remarkably better taste in clothing, though Zo was eighty-five. When you live that long, you have the right to wear polyester if it suits you.

  Gio smiles. “Creepy, right? Especially since he was my great-uncle, but we look a lot alike.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “You even sound like him! I used to think he’d found the fountain of youth somehow. He was what, eighty-five and still taking the world by storm?” I point at him. “Clearly he learned to clone himself too!” I walk toward him with my hand extended. “I’m Lily. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m still getting over it myself.”

  “Thank you. It was quite a shock for all of us.” He skips my hand and pulls me into a hug.

  Inhaling his scent, I notice he wears the same cologne as Zo. I’ve never smelt it anywhere else, so for me, that smell will always remind me of Lorenzo.

  When he pulls away, I gesture to the sofa. “Please sit.” As he takes his seat, I say, “I feel bad you had to come all the way to London to give me whatever this is. I can’t say I’m surprised that Zo insisted on hand delivery.”

  “Yeah, my uncle was a stickler for the personal touch. Don’t feel bad. I was coming to London for business, so I thought I would kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Business?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Do you work in Zo’s… um… profession?”

  He tilts his head back and laughs. “Sort of. My uncle’s goal was to move all of the family business to legitimate enterprises. He rode my ass my whole childhood, making sure I got good grades and kept my nose clean. He had big plans for me. I had a misstep or two along the way, but once I had my head on straight and got my MBA, he put me in charge of all the honest business.”

  “Did you take over everything?” The moment the words leave my mouth, I wish I could pull them back. Did I seriously just ask him if he’s running a mob? Have I learned nothing? “I’m so sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I must really love the taste of my own foot, because I have an uncanny ability to shove it in there as often as possible.”

  “I can see why he liked you. You’re honest, real.”

  I chuckle. “He thought I was something all right—probably a pain in his ass.”

  He shakes his head. “Lorenzo adored you. I don’t really know that much about what you two had going on, but he really had an affinity for you.”

  Tears threaten to fall, but I blink them back. “The feeling was mutual.”

  “To answer your question, my uncle Sal and I have a division of labor. I handle the clean; he handles the dirty.” He shifts in his seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you come to know my uncle?”

  I really wasn’t expecting that. I assumed his “family” knew the situation. Big Al certainly did. If they don’t know, then there’s a very good chance they don’t know that Morelia was behind that fire. As much as I don’t want to have this conversation, I have to. In some convoluted way, Zo
was like family to me, and his family deserves the truth.

  Getting up from the sofa, I walk to the bar. “Alcohol’s required for this story. Hope you like tequila.”

  “Not really.”

  I look over my shoulder as I grab two shot glasses and a bottle of Petron. “Too bad, because this story calls for tequila.” After putting the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, I sit across from him. I pour two shots then nudge his toward him. “Bottoms up. You’re going to need it.”

  An hour later, he knows the whole story, from Ash dying up to today, including Lorenzo’s death.

  When I finish, he swallows hard then runs his hands down his pants. “I was wondering about the bruises on your face, but I didn’t want to ask just minutes after meeting you. Gavin doesn’t seem the type, but you never know.”

  I shoot back my last shot. “Nope.” I frame my face with my hands. “This facial rearrangement courtesy of Morelia. They do good work, huh?”

  He stands. “I think I need some air.”

  I jump up, a little shaky on my tequila legs. “Come on, Gavin’s got a great garden here.” I hook my arm through his. “They call them gardens instead of yards, you know.”

  Once we’re outside, we walk along the path that goes down to the pond, and he says, “That’s a lot to take in. When I asked, I figured you were going to tell me that you were his illegitimate kid or grandkid or something.”

  I tilt my head back and smile. “Nope. Not even close. Well, I suppose he sort of adopted me. He took me on as his responsibility.”

  “I remember when your husband died and the issues that arose from that, but his last name was Preston. I didn’t make the connection.” He continues as we walk to the bridge. “Whoever’s leading this cartel is either really smart or really stupid. The restaurant they burned down was closed for a private party. Half of our crew was there, along with a number of high-ranking members of other crews. If they knew it and used the opportunity to make a big move, then they’re fucking geniuses. If they were just going after my uncle and weren’t smart enough to check the guest list first, they deserve what they have coming to them.”