by Sienna Mynx
“No.” she said in disbelief.
“He’s been forcing local businesses to close, up and down the boardwalk. Juan Juarez was desperate, broken.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s business.”
“Really? Did he also tell you that Juan Juarez killed himself? It’s why I haven’t left Delgado. I’ve been working with his widow to handle the last of his legal obligations. I had no idea you were involved with him Marcie. Is that whose house I followed you to? Are you living with him? He’s dangerous!”
Marcella shook her head.
“I get that you moved on, can’t say I had an easy time getting over you. But I want you to be happy. And I even understand a jealous boyfriend. This is different. I’m worried about you.”
“Thank you Richard. I’m sorry you were hurt.” Marcella put the paper in her pocket. The article of Juan Juarez’s suicide, and the speculations why were too much to digest with Richard standing before her this way.
“I can’t leave you like this. Let me help you. Keep you safe.”
“No. I’m not your responsibility.”
“Marcie.”
“Stop. Just stop okay. I’ll deal with my personal life but I don’t want you in it. Do you understand? It’s over. We’re over and… I’ll be okay.” She tried to add calm to her voice though her hands were shaking.
He kissed her forehead even though she knew it caused him pain. He gave her another longing look then turned and walked out. Marcella removed the newspaper clipping and stared at the sad story of the man’s suicide, his business in ruins. She turned and headed for her computer and sat down to Google Diego Andes. She found a company called Allister. The website came up with a global map asking to search for offices. They were located on four continents. She clicked on the ‘About’ tab and scrolled through the history of the company. Founded ten years ago, it gave little info on Diego. Just a mission statement and how successful the investment firm was. She clicked through several pages of investing deals and acquisitions; she saw that some of the businesses dealt with exports and trade, but nothing to explain the aggressive behavior that ruined Juan Juarez.
Marcella sat back stunned.
***
“So he’s dead?”
Lance tossed his coat to the side and lowered to the chair. “Suicide.”
“What of Marie?”
“She’s made several calls to meet with you. I think it’s time.”
“I say when it’s time. I decide! Not you, not her!”
Lance smirked. Diego fumed. He paced back and forth, his fists clenched. The asshole killed himself, he should have known it would come to this. He should have known. “It is a coward’s way out. He kills himself. He does this to spite me. Well fuck him it changes nothing!”
Lance sighed. “Three weeks and we’re done.”
Diego stopped. “Three weeks? That’s all?”
Lance stared at him for a moment, and then checked his watch. As if bored with the show, he rose, picked up his coat and slipped it on. “You have to tie up these loose ends soon. Three weeks, and we leave. I will tell Marie that you will decide when she can meet with you.”
Diego hadn’t realized that his time grew short. He lived for this day and soon it would all be over. “I may need to stay. I have other matters here, personal.”
Lance’s brow rose. “Stay? It was you that wanted it to work fast. With Juarez’s death there isn’t much left to his estate. What’s tied up in the courts will be divided and…”
Diego looked away. “Never mind, I’ll call you when I want to see you. Go.”
***
She turned over in bed. Three times during dinner and wine she wanted to ask about Juan, and each time when she looked up into his smile she lost the nerve. She almost questioned him about Richard, but something held her back. Suddenly she realized that the something had to be fear. Marcella’s disillusionment and sadness had robbed her of her appetite. She refused to be silent any longer.
“Diego?”
He moaned but didn’t turn over.
“Diego,” she said pulling on his shoulder so he could lay flat. His eyes opened. He looked up at her and smiled. Rolling over to get on top of her she blocked him from parting her legs with a hard push to his chest. “I need to talk to you.” She said.
He made to kiss her and she turned her face. Groggy with sleep, he barely noticed. Instead he snuggled her, pressing his nose against her neck, and his arm around her waist. “Talk? No more talk. Sleep.”
“Richard came to see me today.”
She felt him stiffen. His head slowly lifted.
“You had him beaten up? A man you claim you didn’t know. Why?” She jerked upright.
“He told you this?” Diego asked, rubbing his eyes.
“He could go to the police. Hell he should go to the police, you’re lucky he came to me instead.”
“He’s the lucky one Marcella, not me.”
“What did you say?”
Diego sighed. “Let me explain. He disrespected you and me by his behavior at dinner. He knew who I was and came over to our table to cause trouble.”
“Let’s start from the beginning. You’ve known who he was and who I was from day one. None of it is a coincidence. I buy the funerary…”
“The what?” Diego frowned.
“The damn Egyptian figurine I bought from Juan Juarez because you’re repossessing his life. You knew Richard was his attorney, my ex, hell you probably have him followed daily. That’s why you knew he was here. You’ve been playing games Diego.”
“I am not playing games!”
“You are. Either you’re playing games or you’re lying to me for another reason. What is it? Jeesh, this is so tiring. At dinner I flirted a bit with him but you had no right to go after him the way you did.”
Diego waved it off. “You had too much wine. I forgive you.”
“I don’t need your damn forgiveness!” she threw back the sheets and rose from the bed. She stood over him with her arms crossed.
“Dammit Marcella! You test my patience.”
Marcella rubbed her temples. “You don’t get to do that, order people out of my life. You don’t get to lie to me, manipulate me.” Marcella paced. Diego rose as well but didn’t approach her. He went to the bathroom and shut the door. Marcella stood there listening to him piss, flush, and wash his hands, building the courage to get it all out tonight.
He opened the door and locked his hard gaze on her. “What do you want me to say? Yes nena, I knew who you were. I saw you and I wanted to know more about you. We met at Juarez’s restaurant. Remember? I have not hidden anything from you. I told you what kind of man he was. Do you not remember?”
Marcella recalled the first lunch and the history lesson Diego shared. He announced he bought Juan’s restaurant. She didn’t give much thought to it since then.
He nodded. “I won’t deny being jealous. I won’t deny I don’t want to share you with that Richard man.”
“Jealous I can deal with. Violent? I won’t have violence in my life. You’re scaring the hell out of me.”
“I will make amends. It was a kneejerk reaction of mine when you left me. I thought you wanted him.”
“How could you jump to that conclusion?” she threw her hands up in exasperation.
“I only told my men to warn him to stay away. I didn’t mean to hurt him, not really.”
“I don’t believe you.” She walked around the bed and stopped before him.
“Marcella, you make me so happy and so damn frustrated. What are you complaining about woman? Don’t I care enough for you? Why are we constantly fighting? I tire of it.” He sighed. “I want to protect happiness not destroy it. This is why I behave the way I do…”
“Lies! You weren’t protecting anything but your pride.”
“So what! You are my woman. I won’t have another man disrespecting me or you! I saw the way he thought he could summon you. I saw the way you looked at him. It made me sick to my
stomach.” He spat over to the left as if the words had a bad taste on his tongue.
“What are you? A toddler? How the hell could you feel threatened?”
“What do you expect me to say? I will make amends with this man of yours. I was wrong to react the way I did. It’s done.”
Marcella put her hands to her head. “Diego, if you ever strike at someone in my life again it’s over. I mean it!” she stormed out of the room. Ginger strutted behind her. Choosing the guest room she went inside and locked the door. Climbing in bed she exhaled deeply, drawing the covers up over her head.
Three Days Later
The drive out of Seattle had been a time of reflection. There were winding isolated roads with stretches of green farmlands where horses grazed. Fresh air mingled with the warm sun. It allowed her to travel with her top down. She told Diego she’d be gone for a few days. That wasn’t true, she spent those days alone in her loft apartment struggling with her conscience and her heart. She wanted space. And after the last incident with Richard he knew better than to question her wishes. Things with him were getting tense. Juan Juarez now filled her thoughts. Her cell phone buzzed from the passenger seat. Marcella dropped her head back and reached over blindly, retrieving it from the top of her purse then pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Susan, sorry about the other day, not calling you back, things are just…just crazy.”
“No problem. I wanted to check in. Spoke to Sam and she said you were on the way to see Katchner?”
Marcella sighed. “Yes. He agreed but of course he has his stipulations. Some minor details we need to agree on.”
“Great. So proud of you Marcie, I really am.”
“Thanks.”
“Marcella, how are you? Last we talked you seemed a little worn thin.”
“I’m worn thin alright. I’ll live. Don’t worry about me. How’s your mother?”
“Mom passed away last night.”
“Oh no!” Marcella braked.
“Yeah, I was calling to let you know.”
“I’m sorry. How are you and your sister?”
“We’re okay. I’ll be back in three days, funeral and all. Just wanted to tell you.”
“I’m coming to see you. I will be there for the funeral.”
“No, you have Katchner to deal with.”
“Doesn’t matter, I can phone in the rest of this. I’ll be with you soon. I’ll call you when I’m on my way. You be strong until I get there.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Chapter Seventeen
Baxter’s Funeral Home doors opened. Inside a small chapel for more intimate services was provided. The black marquee at the front listed Agnes Sands as the unfortunate soul to be interned. Mourners filled the thinly spaced rows of wooden foldout chairs. Ladies in dark dresses, men in dark suits, the lot of them sat in silence—listening. Marcella chose to sit in the back row. Her sunglasses covered teary swollen eyes. Her large black umbrella hat cast a shadow over her face. She remained just a spectator. A far cry from the kind of emotional support she and Susan once shared. But she was there.
Susan, her best friend, confidant, the one who could always make her laugh, and never wavered in her support, sat stoically next to her sister at the front of the church. Before them a tall man with greying temples and minister’s collar, eulogized over the tearful family. Marcella feared this kind of pain. Her mother was all she truly had in the world. If she lost her, she’d be all alone. Losing a parent is never easy. Saying goodbye is even harder. Susan needed a friend, and Marcella needed to feel like one again, feel her feet on the ground again.
Her head lowered. A single tear slipped away. She’d been out of touch with those that meant so much to her. Like Susan, Garrett, Sam, hell even her cat didn’t know her anymore.
She sniffed, fingers fumbling over the contents of her clutch bag, searching for a tissue. Wiping under her sunglasses she pushed the emotion down. Including the knot of conflict lodged into her heart.
“What time does your flight leave?” Diego asked.
“Six in the morning.”
“First you went away for business. It’s been days since I’ve seen you. Now you’re leaving again? Why Marcella?”
Marcella zipped a small carry-on bag, in case her flight turned into an overnight stay. She brought it downstairs to put near the door for Diego to load into the car. She turned with a smile. “What do you mean why? You know why.”
“How long this time? Another week?”
“Of course not. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll be home tomorrow night before dinner is cold. We talked about this Diego. She’s my best friend. Her mother died. I have to be there for her.”
“And who’s going to be here for me?”
“I don’t understand?”
“I need you here.”
“And you have me. I’m here every night, hell I’ve missed more days in the past seven weeks from work than I have in the past seven months to be with you.”
“You’ve been gone a week.” His eyes darkened and his face pinched tight with scorn. “You’re punishing me for hurting that man Richard. I apologized for it. Still you won’t forgive. What else do you want me to do? Say?”
“That’s not true.” Though she knew part of it was. “I have work, a life, if you would make an effort to know more about it you wouldn’t feel threatened by it.” She mumbled.
“What does that mean?”
“Never mind, I’m going to start dinner.”
“Marcella.” He stepped in front of her. “I don’t want to fight. Not anymore. There are things, a lot going on. I just need you to be patient. I…”
“What? What do you really want to say Diego?”
He shook his head sadly.
“I’ll tell you what I need. I need love. Do you love me?”
“Where does this question come from? We agreed we care for each other.”
“My heart.”
In all the time she knew him she had never seen uncertainty in his eyes. In that instant he went pale. He looked physically ill by the notion. That hurt her. A lot. Plus she knew he was a dangerous man now. Connected to dangerous people, still she was too afraid to broach the subject. She couldn’t go on this way. “Excuse me.” She said. She walked around him and headed to the kitchen.
Things were out of control. He didn’t want to fight with her. In fact after his meeting with Lance he craved her even more. The past week had been hell. He had blown it big with her by having Lance deal with the man of her past. How was he to know the man wasn’t a threat? Any man who had even a small part of her heart didn’t deserve to breathe. The way he looked at Marcella in the restaurant incensed him. He was lucky to still have his limbs. For a week straight he paced and tossed and turned. He summoned restraint he didn’t know he had to keep from calling her. A week and nothing. When she showed up he had to reign in his emotions, to keep himself from telling her how happy she made him. Then she asked the question of love. Since the death of Ana and Enrique he had never said the word. Never. No wonder she had so little faith in him. If he didn’t deal with Marie and his rage he would lose her.
Diego followed her into the kitchen. Mostly he cooked. He preferred to do so. The times when she did were rewarding as well. Why did he resist her doing things for him in return? How could he explain his actions when he barely understood them himself?
“Marcella.”
“Mmm,” she said starting the blender.
“Marcella,” he said, this time stepping right behind her. “I’m glad you’re back with me.”
Diego’s hand slid up and down her hips. He was so close. The heady cologne and aftershave overwhelmed her senses. She felt soft and vulnerable with him pressed behind her. God help her but just being close to him was satisfying. She exhaled a slow weakening breath. Then he touched her once more. He kissed the back of her head feeling his way around her hips to rub, caress, and touch her everywhere.
With a wall of hardness behind her she reclined into him. It felt so safe, he always did.
“I love you,” she whispered. She said it, out loud. The words felt safe and easy rolling off her tongue. She loved him and she wouldn’t deny it a day longer. Eventually they’d have to have that talk. Unless Richard lied? Maybe Diego had no big sinister secret alliances with dangerous men. It was possible. The stereotype of people of color in that region of the world being tied to a cartel or something was straight out of a Scarface movie. Not reality.
