Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three)

by K. Victoria Chase

  “Dolf is interested in meeting you two and will pitch the idea to his siblings.”

  “Do you think Papa knew the both of you were working for the agency?” Rafa asked.

  Ric shrugged. His voice was hard. “I don’t know. But thanks to the hearing loss I have, it looks like I’m permanently out of the field so I’ll have plenty of time to track him down and ask him some questions.”

  “How do you feel about that?” Ale asked with a worried look in his eyes. “Are you going to miss it?”

  Ric heard the laughter of the women in the kitchen. His eyes strayed toward the opening that led toward the kitchen and Mel appeared. She offered him a broad smile, full of life and love for him. His insides warmed at the thought of her becoming his wife. She was his greatest adventure and even if he were to return to the field tomorrow, nothing that life could offer him could compare to the love of this woman. And in a few short weeks, she would be his woman in every sense of the word. He kept his eyes on her flushed face when he answered his brother. “I’m sure I’ll get over it somehow.”

  Rafa slapped him on the shoulder. “I know that look. There’s no way he’s missing the field anytime soon.”

  The three of them chuckled.

  “Are you boys done with your powwow? Dinner is ready,” Mel called to them.

  Alejandro blocked Ric’s path as he attempted to rush toward his fiancée. “Just one minute, little brother.” Alejandro placed a large palm on Ric’s chest. “Mel is one of my best friends. I’ve worked with her in dangerous situations for a long time.”

  Ric flicked his brother’s hand off his chest and replaced it with the crossing of his arms. He smirked. “Go on.”

  “She’s like my sister.”

  “She will be your sister — our sister,” Rafa said.

  “I just want to let you know that if you hurt her…”

  Ric arched a brow at the less than serious threat. “You’ll what? Come after me? Chase me down like I’m some sort of fugitive?”

  “You’ll be a fugitive of my justice.”

  Rafa chortled. “And Ale is one of the best hunters in the US Marshals. You can bet he’ll be on your tracks in no time, little brother.”

  “I’m not at all bothered,” Ric said with a smile.

  “Are you sure about that?” Ale asked. His eyes strayed to one side of Ric’s head. “I don’t think you’ll hear me coming.”

  Ric looked away and nodded his head. “Wow. You’re gonna go there.”

  Rafa, the peacemaker, stepped between them. “Save it for later ’cause it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

  “I don’t need to hear him to knock him out.” Ric’s deep voice was laced with danger and mixed with humor.

  “Yeah, but your back is injured, isn’t it?” Rafa asked. “I’ve seen you touch it often.”

  Ric rolled his eyes. “You are incredibly observant. Thanks,” he said dryly.

  “I am a detective…well, agent now.”

  “Do I have your blessing, brother?” Ric asked Ale.

  Ale sported an easy grin. “Of course you do. Congratulations.”

  Ric rolled his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Ric led the way into the kitchen, where his mother and the women had prepared fajitas, rice, refried beans, fresh guacamole and salsa, and his mother’s fried corn chips. Maria Santiago touched the arm of her son to get his attention. Her round, cherry-colored face brought a smile to Ric’s. They’d spent hours on the phone while he was in the hospital. It was then when he had the courage to ask the one question he never had an answer to. Why? Why didn’t she leave their father? Why did she put up with the abuse? Because it was either me or you, she had told him through her tears. I didn’t know why he was so angry, but I thought if I could keep him focused on me, he would never harm you. I wasn’t strong enough to leave him, mi hijo. I wish I were. I prayed to God to make me strong, but I held on to my fear and didn’t walk away.

  His mother’s story broke his heart. The new appreciation for her position as a shield for him and his brothers eradicated the last trace of his own anger against her. She did the best she could: what she thought was right in a seemingly impossible situation. She was the wife of a man whose heart belonged to another and she was in the dark about everything. Papa was angry because there was another family he was forced to spend time away from because of Maria Santiago and her three sons. It would be easy to hate the other woman and his half-brothers and half-sister, but apparently his father had hidden the truth about his other family as well.

  “Ricardo.”

  “Sí, mamá? ”

  “Hijo, I have missed you so much.” Her eyes welled with tears for maybe the fifth time since he’d stepped through the door of his childhood home.

  “I know, Mama. I’ve missed you too.” He wrapped his arms around the petite woman, and ignored the pain in his back and hugged her fiercely. “I’m sorry I was such a punk kid.”

  “Oh, no hijo.”

  “I’ve known for a long time that you did the right thing.”

  Her tearstained cheeks rose with the loving smile she gave him. “I knew you would grow into the fine man you’ve become. I knew God would answer my prayers for each of you boys.”

  Ric kissed his mother’s glistening forehead. “Thank you for praying for us, Mama. I know how much you love us by how you talk to God about us.” When his mother’s eyes welled with fresh tears, he groaned. “No, no, no. No mas lágrimas. Let’s eat, okay?”

  Hours later, when their stomachs were full, Ric led Mel out of the backdoor to sit on the bench near the small creek at the end of their yard. Mel nestled into his arms and they watched the golden hue of the setting sun soften into a pastel-like arrangement of orange, purple, and blue.

  On their plane trip back to the United States, Ric and Melody had spent most of the nearly nine-hour ride discussing the future and their plans to live it together. Mel loved her job as a Deputy US Marshal and was distressed over the possibility of not being able to leave her duty station and find another position closer to Langley. Ric assured her that he would leave the agency if she had to stay in Texas and he wasn’t concerned about finding employment.

  “What would you do after the agency?” she had asked, surprised he would resign his position for her.

  Ric had shrugged off her concern. “I’ll do some type of consulting. Trust me, with my skill set, I won’t have any problems finding a job.”

  Now that their engagement was official, doubts about her happiness plagued him. “You talked to Ale, right? What did he say?”

  Mel’s fingers entwined with his. “He leads his own team now and has the authority to bring in whoever he wants. My boss isn’t too happy that I’m leaving the unit, but he understands.”

  Ric heard the smile in her voice. He squeezed her hand. Mel and Ale were great friends and it pleased Ric that she could transfer to a unit with a familiar face. Yet, her family lived in Texas. After the ordeal they’d endured in the desert, he wouldn’t blame them for the objection they mounted when she gave them notice just a few weeks ago that she was moving out of the state. “Do you think you’ll be happy here in Virginia, away from your family?”

  “I’ll get to visit them, won’t I?”

  Ric chuckled. “Of course.”

  Mel angled her head to see his eyes. “I’ll be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you.” With pursed lips, she invited his kiss. He captured her lips and didn’t relinquish them until he heard her sigh in his mouth. Her soft moans of passion fueled his inner fire. “I love you without the beard.” She stroked the smooth, caramel skin and fingered a dimple as he smiled. “I liked the beard too, but I love seeing your face.”

  Ric rubbed his jaw. “I’ll remember to keep it clean then.” He kissed her softly.

  “Is your back okay sitting here on this bench? It’s kinda hard…”

  He shifted his position to draw her deeper into his embrace. “It only hurts when you stop kissing me,” he said against her mouth. She
giggled against his mouth.

  “I love you, Ricardo Santiago, and I can’t wait to be your wife.” She sighed, her eyes full of happiness and pleasure.

  He wasn’t sure what the future held for him at the agency, or how his family could possibly blend with his father’s, but he knew with God’s protection and Mel’s love, he didn’t need to take on the world alone. “I love you, too.” He gently kissed her lips.

  The End?

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  SERIAL GAMES

  Chapter One

  If it isn’t a game, then why do you say you’re losing?

  The words of FBI profiler and Special Agent Margaret Weston’s mother echoed in her head. The previous evening, they had another heart-to-heart phone call. All of them ended the same: you are not in competition with your sister.

  Maggie shoved the thought from her head. She needed to concentrate on work. She could win at work. Maggie pulled the daily paper from underneath a pile of notes for a case due to the Richmond office. The headline caught her eye.

  “Suspect in Gruesome Murder of Four Surrenders”

  Maggie bit her lip as she unfolded the paper to continue reading. For the last week, a small community in western Virginia had been held hostage over the discovery of four bodies found in the backyard of an ex-cop. The officer married four times; after two to five years of marital bliss, he would report his wife missing and move on to the next.

  Maggie shuddered. The suspect reminded her of the profile she completed on another monster: a man obsessed with women who possessed certain features. Nine women went missing from his hometown and were never heard from again.

  Burrows…

  Maggie’s fingers shook as she refolded the newspaper. She could only imagine the suffering those women endured at his hands: their worst nightmares realized. Maggie whispered a silent prayer of thanks. Every day Burrows remained off the streets was a day the people of Culpeper, Virginia would be grateful for. Maggie expelled a breath of relief. Each day offered her an opportunity to identify and catch the bad guys. Maggie lived for it.

  A knock at her office door drew her attention. Her colleague, Special Agent Douglas Fairbanks, peeked his head in. A noted look of concern crossed his features. “Maggie, you have a visitor.”

  She waved her hand for Doug to enter. She didn’t expect the agent from the Richmond office until tomorrow. She gathered the loose papers on her desk into a couple of piles, careful not to cover her notes for their case. Maggie glanced up and ceased her organizing. She slowly rose from her chair, her eyes focused on the man behind Agent Fairbanks.

  “This is Deputy US Marshal Brandon Worth.” Doug stepped aside and allowed Maggie a full view of her visitor.

  A dark-haired, square-jawed man about six feet tall and all muscle confidently entered the room. Maggie let out a restrained breath as she took in his stonewashed jeans, tucked-in collared shirt, and dark brown blazer. His pale eyes grew larger when they met hers, but by the time he crossed the room to meet her, they were unreadable.

  Maggie walked around to the front of her desk. “This is Agent Margaret Weston. But everyone calls her Maggie,” Doug continued. The man extended his hand during the greeting.

  “Marshal.” Her hand fitted to his and an onslaught of heat surged up her arm. His firm grip and million-dollar smile nearly put Maggie in a trance. “Please have a seat.” She pulled her hand from his and gestured toward two chairs angled in front of her desk. Maggie laid both her palms on the sides of her skirt and took her time as she walked back around to her seat. The last thing she wanted to do was trip over the corner of her desk.

  “Sorry to drop in unannounced.” A deep, rich voice filled the room.

  Maggie decided it matched him perfectly. She shook the thought from her mind, shocked she found it there in the first place. “Thanks again, Doug,” she called before he softly closed her office door behind him. “On the contrary, Marshal. How may I help you?”

  His eyes sparkled and he smiled slowly. “First off, call me Brandon.”

  Maggie nodded, unsure whether she could be informal with him so soon.

  “Second, I need your help.”

  Maggie furrowed her brows. Did her boss forget to leave her a note about another case? Maggie worked a full load, with profile write-ups needed by several regional offices. “You’re in need of a profiler for a prisoner?”

  Brandon’s eyes shadowed over. He placed his elbows on the armrests and interlaced his fingers in front of him. “Something like that. Do you recall a John Michael Burrows?”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “Funny you should mention his name. I was just reading an article in the paper that reminded me of him.”

  John Michael Burrows made her career, with barely ten years on the job. The FBI’s DC profiling division accepted Maggie’s transfer request a couple of years ago and almost as soon as she stepped into the office, her supervisor introduced her to her first assignment — Burrows. At first, police couldn’t identify a suspect in a series of unsolved female disappearances in Culpeper County. A persistent investigation linked the victims to one another, the common denominator being their unidentified suspect. Maggie finally broke the case with the discovery of someone they all had in common. That someone was Burrows.

  “I’m not going to lie. This office is because of Burrows.” She casually waved a hand around. Brandon turned his head to get a one hundred eighty-degree view.

  “It’s very nice.” He grinned. She detected a note of amusement in his voice. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  Maggie dipped her head, embarrassed. The spacious office boasted an open floor plan with locked file cabinets on the far wall opposite her desk. She completed ten thousand steps a day just walking from one end to the other multiple times. Yet, she did enjoy the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a great view of the downtown DC area.

  Maggie inhaled deeply, hesitant to dwell on the compliment. The FBI awarded her a special commendation with the capture of Burrows. She held the honor of being the first black female profiler to ever identify and capture a serial killer. In the Virginia judicial system, the Burrows case set a precedent; Maggie provided expert testimony pivotal to Burrows receiving the death penalty for the murders of nine women, whose bodies were never found. Maggie signed the final draft of Burrows’s investigative report over a year ago with no real test of her performance as a profiler since. No case had reached that level of difficulty.

  “Really, Marshal.” Maggie wanted to dispel the perception.

  “Brandon.” He urged.

  Maggie cleared her throat. “I was just doing my job, and I’m glad the case is over.” Maggie swallowed to relieve her dry throat. The headline of the newspaper article flashed in her mind. The ex-cop and Burrows were too similar: the need…no, the desire to kill women.

  Brandon cleared his throat. “Um, not quite…”

  Maggie’s breath caught; her chest tightened. Not over? Brandon’s hands gripped the sides of his chair. US Marshals handle the transfer of prisoners and the apprehension of fugitives…

  “Don’t say it,” Maggie breathed.

  “He’s escaped.”

  Maggie’s eyes fluttered as she tried to comprehend the news. She looked away. Escaped? The greatest danger to women in the history of central Virginia back on the streets? The Burrows’s case received the highest media coverage due to the threat to public safety, a title not held by any perpetrator since the DC sniper. Her breathing became more labored as the news sunk in. “How did this happen?”

  ****

  Brandon Worth watched her eyes flash with a mix of anger and confusion when she voiced the very question at the top of his list. How did a serial killer, of all people, escape US Marshal custody? The high-profile nature of Burrows’s case, and Brandon’s tracking
expertise, made him the frontrunner to head the recovery operation. He accepted the assignment without hesitation. The reputation of the US Marshals Service hung by a thread if Burrows eluded police again. Brandon lived for this type of challenge.

  A quick review of the summary file revealed Special Agent Margaret Weston’s name. The reason for Burrows’s original apprehension rested with her. Usually serial killers became sloppy, or better at what they did. Burrows in no way defined sloppy. Agent Weston miraculously pieced together the horrid puzzle and singled him out as the perpetrator of the crimes. Maggie was blessed with talent for, well, comprehending the sick creatures of the earth. Logic demanded Brandon seek her help.

  Brandon appraised the woman before him. He didn’t expect her youthful appearance or her understated beauty. Slightly below average in height, around five feet four or five, he found it hard not to notice her shapely hips when she walked. Her rich, deep mahogany-colored hair bounced with each turn of her head. She exhibited exotic features: cocoa-colored skin, chocolate eyes, and a full, pretty mouth. He looked casually to her left hand. No ring. In the last five years, no woman had ever induced him to linger.

  But this woman…

  Brandon clenched his hands. Something in him had shifted the moment his eyes rested on her. He didn’t think it was possible again. Even now he struggled to regain control. Nice try, God. I’ll not surrender. You won’t fool me again.

  Her unassuming manner put her at odds with how he conducted the chase. He recalled her embarrassment over the size of her office. Clearly humble about her promotion within the ranks of the department, if she lacked the fortitude she needed on a manhunt of this magnitude, Brandon would get all he could from her now and leave her behind. No sense in allowing a sheepish woman into the fray, even if she did study crazies for a living.