by Jane Henry
Diego grunted. He couldn’t blame the men for their suspicions. He’d received his own summons from El Jefe this afternoon, informing that they would need to meet at the warehouse to discuss “contingency plans” for “handling Camila,” and he’d known immediately that any contingency plan would not involve Diego’s continued existence on the planet. Still, he also knew that a woman as smart as Diana Consuelos would not set this final phase of her plan into motion until she knew that all of her intended targets—including him—were inside the building, so here he was… live bait.
“Speaking of,” Slay continued. “The guys did a check of the building when we arrived. Everything’s set up exactly as we expected. And no sign of any explosives. However that lunatic plans to destroy the warehouse, it’s not going to involve any dramatic fireworks.”
Diego made a noise of agreement. He hadn’t really anticipated that Diana Consuelos would do something as dramatic and attention-grabbing as an explosion—far too many questions to answer after that. But he’d needed to cover all the bases, for everyone’s sake.
He’d thought long and hard about how Diana’s dismantling was going to go down before he and Slay had finally worked out a plan. They couldn’t imagine Diana would reveal herself to the men in the warehouse—not only was it not her style, Diego was fairly sure that most of the crew would mutiny when they learned that the man they’d respected and feared was actually a fairly attractive middle-aged woman. But Diego, Slay, and the team were also banking on the idea that after so many screw ups and near-misses, El Jefe would not totally trust the person on the other end of the phone call Nora had overheard to plan and carry out something as crucial as the destruction of Padre’s entire Boston operation. Not without Diana’s active involvement. If the warehouse were about to be destroyed and the men inside killed, Diana would be nearby to give the final order herself… and to watch their world burn.
Matteo pulled the van to the curb four blocks back from the warehouse and immediately killed the lights. He turned and looked at Diego expectantly.
The street was dark with only a few dimly flickering streetlights functioning, and Diego grabbed his phone to check the time. Seven-twenty. “Ten minutes to show time,” he whispered. “I’m exiting the vehicle.”
“Roger that,” Slay confirmed.
Diego continued, “Lucas and Matt, get into position for the extraction. I’m going silent for now.” Lucas and Matt’s voices sounded in Diego’s ear, acknowledging his order.
Diego took a deep breath and pushed the van door open, walking down the street towards the warehouse, towards the end.
It was chilly tonight. Diego had spent countless evenings in this neighborhood over the years and was used to the bone-numbingly cold wind that blew in off the water this time of year, but he’d learned to ignore it the way he’d ignored so many things he’d hated about that life. And he already thought of it as that life. Something that was all but over and done with. The fact that he was feeling the wind tonight was just another symptom of the paradigm shift that had occurred when Nora walked back into his life.
He jogged across the main street to the warehouse, not bothering to hide himself or to stay quiet once he was in view of the building. As surely as he could feel his own men’s eyes on him, he knew El Jefe’s men were out here as well, biding their time and relaying his location to their master. And it felt so fucking good that he no longer had to hide. He walked up the battered wooden steps and threw open the heavy metal door, which apparently no one had remembered to secure, and entered the building for what he knew would be the last time.
His footsteps echoed in the cavernous space, as did the laughing voices of the men on Salazar’s crew. But as his steps drew closer to the main area, where the men were arranged around the conference table, the laughter died. Eleven pairs of eyes turned to look at him, and the disbelief on their faces was nearly comical. Had he come back sporting a white sheet with eye-holes, rattling chains and making spooky noises, the men would not have been more stunned. They’d already believed him dead, so, therefore, he must be a ghost.
He rolled his eyes and addressed them. “Never trust rumors, boys.”
They exchanged uneasy glances amongst themselves, but Banyon was the one to speak. “Padre, what’s going on. Did you, uh… handle the girl?”
Diego shook his head. “Tomás tried and failed. Our plans had to be put on the back burner.”
Ricky swallowed. “A-and… El Jefe was okay with that?”
Diego smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “No. El Jefe had Tomás killed.” A collective gasp filled the space.
“I wondered why that fucker wasn’t answering his phone,” Banyon said, jumping to his feet and running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Dead, Padre? Are you sure?”
Diego nodded solemnly. He’d seen the police photos and positively identified Tomás’s body.
“We need to figure out a way to get his remains to his sister and his nieces,” Banyon said, glaring at Diego as though waiting for a confrontation. But Diego merely nodded again.
“I’ll have it taken care of. But in the meantime, we have other things to worry about.”
“Like El Jefe,” Ricky said nervously. His face was still mottled yellow and brown, a stark reminder of his beating a week ago.
Diego flexed his hand, noting that his own bruises had healed completely, then looked around at each of the faces turned towards him. “El Jefe decided it was time to destroy the warehouse and dismantle the entire Boston operation. You know what that means, right?”
The men looked back and forth, wide-eyed panic written on their faces, and once again Diego felt the familiar urge to guide them to safety. “They—the authorities—found out El Jefe’s real identity,” Diego continued. “It’s only a matter of time before the whole thing comes crashing down. And you know how El Jefe feels about tying up loose ends.”
Ricky pushed to his feet, slack-jawed with fear. “No way. What do we do?”
Diego opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a familiar but unexpected voice echoed around the nearly-empty warehouse. “You follow orders,” it said. “Right, Santiago?”
Oh, no way.
Diego spun in the direction of the voice, his hand reaching for the gun tucked into his waistband, but all around the space, echoing from the shadowy catwalk that ran around the perimeter of the second story, came the unmistakable metallic clank of multiple firearms being loaded simultaneously.
Cold fear settled in Diego’s stomach like iron. El Jefe’s men were up there, poised to shoot Padre and his crew like fish in a goddamn barrel. He had to give it to El Jefe. It was a solid fucking plan. A bunch of thugs and suspected criminals dying en masse in a shootout? The police would never question it. And then, when the building burned, how easy would it be to claim it was gang-related, one group seeking vengeance on another?
“Ah-ah-ah!” the voice warned, and Diego froze in place instantly. “Hands up, Mister Santiago. Now turn around slowly.”
As Diego turned, he saw his men staring around wide-eyed, wondering what the fuck was going on and how the hell this stranger knew Padre’s real name. Then the man stepped out of the shadows.
“Michael Darby?” Diego spat. “Fuck.” Diego had known that El Jefe had spies everywhere, but he hadn’t expected the bumbling FBI agent was one of them. Michael… Miguel. He shook his head in disbelief.
“Ah, Diego.” Darby shrugged indulgently, walking in a slow circle around Diego, and extracting Diego’s weapon from the back of his pants. “Don’t feel too bad for not making me. I haven’t been on El Jefe’s payroll for long.” He held the gun with a piece of fabric, the better to ensure that his prints were nowhere at the scene.
He caught a flash from the corner of his eye, a hint of movement on the balcony, and a muffled thud coming from above, but no one else seemed to notice.
“And now what? You’re going to kill all of us? Make it look like we killed each other?” Diego said, stalling for ti
me.
“You want me to do one of those villain monologues?” Darby teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he regarded Diego. “I’m afraid I can’t oblige you. I’m hardly the criminal mastermind here. I just follow El Jefe’s orders.” He laughed. “And apparently so do you.” Darby stepped closer, studying Diego’s face. “I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised to see you here. You knew what this meeting tonight was. You knew you’d be walking into a bloodbath. And thanks to me, you have no backup. So why not stay home, and stay safe?”
Diego remained silent, his eyes focused on the back wall. Darby chuckled again. “Ah, I see. Savior complex, hmm? Needed to come back to help save this scum.” He shook his head. “And now you’ll die with them. Idiot.”
Darby stepped back and tapped a comm unit in his ear. “We’re in position. They’re all here. Yes, even Diego.” Darby smiled at him. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of phase one, and then we’ll await your go-ahead. Five minutes. Si.”
Darby’s voice rose as he addressed the invisible men who waited in the darkness of the second story. “Shoot them all,” he said in a bored voice. “Then wait for confirmation.”
Banyon and Ricky ran for the dubious cover of the wooden table, while several other men ran towards the makeshift offices at the back of the warehouse. Not a single shot was fired from above.
“I said shoot them!” Darby demanded in frustration, turning his gaze upward, wondering why the men weren’t heeding his command.
Diego smiled and stepped towards Darby. “Looks like you’re the idiot. You were wrong, Miguel.”
“Stay back!” Darby yelled, frightened now. He didn’t pull a weapon, and Diego rolled his eyes. How like this arrogant prick to come to this confrontation unarmed! So fucking sure that someone else would do his work for him. “Shoot him, for fuck’s sake!”
“Slay?” Diego said calmly.
Slay’s voice drifted down from above. “Perimeter is secured. Darby’s men have been neutralized. And Darby, you motherfucker, I will take the greatest possible joy in reporting tonight’s activities to Berkley myself. Let’s see how prison treats you.”
Darby’s face paled. “S-slater?”
“The one and only, asshole.”
Darby’s eyes closed. Just then, the doors to the warehouse burst open and the members of Slay’s team who hadn’t been taking out Darby’s men on the second floor, began rounding up the members of Salazar’s crew. Diego could lie and say he didn’t appreciate the way one of Slay’s guys threw Darby to the floor and mashed his cheek into the concrete before securing him in zip ties and leading him away, but he figured his loud laughter would have given the lie away.
Diego wandered over to the conference table, the scene of so many meetings between Padre and the crew. It was hard to believe that this whole fucking thing was really over, that tomorrow morning he’d be able to wake up next to his woman and be a whole different person than the man he’d been all these years—he’d finally be leaving Padre behind.
Slay’s excited voice brought him out of his reverie. “We have confirmation! Diana Consuelos is in custody! We were able to trace the transmission from her communication with Darby and found her waiting in a restaurant a few blocks over. Local PD is on their way to secure the scene. It’s time to go home!”
“Roger that, Slay.” Diego glanced around the nearly empty space. “I am so ready to go home.” Home… Not a place, but a person. Nora, who would always be waiting for him.
His penance was served, his demons finally contained, and he felt a curious lightness in his gut that he finally identified as… hope. Padre was gone forever, and now he would be Nora’s daddy for the rest of his days.
Epilogue
The rays of the sun hit Nora’s golden hair as Tessa tucked a curly tendril behind her sister’s ear. Nora’s long blonde locks hung loose about her shoulders, but thin curls framed her face. Graceful twists of gold clips studded with small white flowers adorned the simple style that made her feel fairy-like. The whole day was magical.
Today was the day she’d stand before her sister and the friends they’d forged bonds with, and pledge herself to the man she loved. Today was the day she’d become Nora Santiago. Standing at the back of the church as her sister adjusted her veil just one more time, she took it all in, waiting for her cue. They’d chosen one of the smallest, oldest churches in Boston, a tiny chapel founded by Italian immigrants that looked as if it could’ve come straight from Italy. The large, stained-glass windows filtered colored light onto the small, dark wooden benches, and paintings of winged angels and saints adorned the walls. But what caught Nora’s attention wasn’t the intricate details of the church, but who sat within it—every one of her adopted family members, from Slay and Allie to Dom and Heidi, along with their children ranging in age from the tiniest of the bunch, Alice and Slay’s little girl nestled snug in Slay’s arms, to Alice’s Charlie, who now stood almost as tall as his mom. And to the right side, standing fittingly in front of a large statue of Saint Michael the archangel wielding his mighty sword, stood Nora’s future husband, clad in a simple but elegant black suit, the cut accentuating his strength and lean, muscled body. He’d grown his beard longer and trimmed it. She shivered. He was strong, powerful, masculine… and all hers.
Diego shifted on his feet, his hands clasped in front of him, and she wondered if his constant need for vigilance would be something he struggled with for the rest of his life. He looked over his shoulder, scanned the crowd, shot a chin lift to Slay, and then his gaze came to the back of the church where Nora stood with Tessa. When his eyes met hers, he stilled. Her heart squeezed just a little, as Tessa took her hand. “Let’s go, honey.”
A small church, with fewer than two dozen witnesses present, seemed the fitting way for her to take her vows, to pledge herself to Diego, as by now it was a mere formality. She was his, and always would be.
She clasped the small bouquet of early spring flowers Tessa had fashioned for her from the wildflowers that grew in the little garden outside the kitchen window at Diego’s house, which she now shared. A cool spring breeze ruffled her dress from an open window, and in the distance, a chickadee whistled and a wood thrush trilled its flute-like melody. As she entered the church, everyone stood, and she smiled to herself. It felt fitting to meet Diego amidst all of them, to stand with them as she took her vows, for she no longer stood alone. She’d made her place in the world. When she reached him, he took her hand, kissed her fingers, and tucked her by his side… right where she belonged.
While Allie held her sleeping daughter, Slay got to his feet in the function room at Cara, and Tony clinked his glass with a fork. Slay cleared his throat, and everyone quieted. Diego took Nora’s left hand in both of his and nestled them in his lap as they listened to Slay speak.
“Gonna keep this short and sweet,” Slay said, his deep voice garnering everyone’s attention. “Pretty sure my crew will start raiding Tony’s kitchen if I don’t.” Laughter rang in the room, as everyone knew he referred not to the men who worked for him but his passel of kids. The laughter died down as Slay’s eyes sobered. He cleared his throat. “I met Diego years ago, when he was still a punk kid from the city.” His eyes twinkled. “Words can’t express how happy I am to see the man he’s become. I first met Nora when she was a kid, still in high school…” His voice trailed off. Everyone in the room knew that Slay met Nora for the first time when he’d helped Diego rescue her from Salazar’s clutches, earning Slay a gunshot wound he still bore today. It was clear he didn’t want to get into details, nor did he need to. Even the children in the room seemed to understand the significance of the moment, as they sat quietly, listening. Allie looked at them fondly, Slay looked on with pride, and Nora smiled. Some day, she and Diego would have children of their own. They’d come so far.
Slay continued. “And now in front of me, sits a brother who’s forged his way as a man of honor, and a woman who’s grown with grace from childhood to adulthood in front of our very eyes.”
He swallowed, and lifted his glass. “I know I speak for everyone in this room when I say that you’ve made us all proud. If any couple deserves peace and happiness, it’s you two. To peace, love, and finding your happily ever after.”
Cheers rang through the room and glasses clinked as Diego leaned in and whispered to Nora. “Thought he was gonna start crying and I’d have to kick his ass.” She snickered, but noticed he downed his champagne quickly, no doubt swallowing the lump in his throat like she did. And as she looked about the room, at Dom and Heidi laughing at something Matteo and Hillary were recounting, at John and Paul sliding pastries on a gleaming silver tray and speaking quietly to one another, to Elena, who fixed Blake’s tie as he bounced a toddler on his knee, and Tony and Tessa, who sat watching Diego and Nora with pride, to Grace and Donnie who stood by the door refereeing the most rambunctious of the little ones, she gave thanks for how far they’d all come.
Every one of them had a story, a history, and they’d made their way.
She glanced sideways at Diego, who’d loosened his tie but still wore his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing tanned skin. God, she couldn’t wait to get him home tonight.
The past few months had been a blur as Diego tidied up the last details of his investigation. El Jefe now sat in jail awaiting trial, and Nora had finally come to grips with the fact that Diana was a criminal. It killed at first, knowing the woman she’d looked up to hadn’t been who she said she was. It hadn't been easy. At first she'd questioned everything, wondering how she'd failed to see the truth right in front of her. But her family, this amazing group of people who'd found and chosen each other, had rallied around to support her. They, along with the women and children she helped every day at Centered, reminded her that having faith in other people, choosing to find the good in them, was a gift and not a crime. It was a gift that Diego said had saved his soul.
