by Elise Noble
“You got engaged?”
“All part of the long and crazy story.”
“Wow. I mean, of course you can bring him. Seven o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
On the other side of the room, Emmy’s phone rang, and she put down the box she was carrying to answer.
“It’s me.” Her eyes widened. “Holy fuck. Are you kidding? He’s properly awake?”
Who was she talking about? For a moment, I panicked in case it was Roscoe, but he’d definitely been dead. Sofia checked his pulse before we left the apartment.
“We’ll be there by…” She glanced at her watch. “Three o’clock. Can you pick us up at the airport?”
What airport? What had happened?
“Is everything okay?” I asked as soon as she hung up.
“Better than okay. I need to get to Cali. Black, get your ass out here.” She gave me a quick hug. “Stay safe, okay? Look after Mercy and Isabella. Black! Hurry up!”
CHAPTER 50 - EMMY
FOR DAYS, EMMY had been putting off the trip to Cali. Cleaning an apartment was more fun than explaining to Seb and Marco that their stepmother tried to kill their father, because where did she start with that? Even scrubbing the toilet was preferable.
But with the news that Eduardo had woken up, everything changed. Now she wanted to get to Cali as soon as possible.
She rummaged around in her purse, pulled out a handful of notes—probably about a million pesos because money was crazy in Colombia—and thrust it towards the cab driver.
“Here’s a bonus if you can get us to the airport in forty-five minutes.”
The journey usually took an hour, so that wasn’t totally unreasonable, right? Emmy could do it easily if she was driving. Half an hour on a motorbike. A kid zipped by on a moped, and for a moment, she considered… No. Black would be super pissed if she stole that. And Eduardo was probably having all sorts of tests and stuff right now, so they might not be allowed to see him for ages anyway.
“Diamond, Eduardo might not be the same man you remember.”
“I know that. But don’t rain on my sunshine. This has to be a good thing, okay?”
“Don’t rain on your sunshine? Did you get that from Bradley?”
Maybe. “So what if I did?”
Black chuckled, and Emmy couldn’t even be mad. Eduardo was awake.
One of Seb’s regular drivers met them on the tarmac in Cali, and it didn’t take long for them to get to the hospital. Floriana was sitting outside Eduardo’s room, the little bitch, and Emmy wanted to strangle the woman with her bare hands. But that would come later. For now, in public, she’d play nice so the hospital staff didn’t get upset.
Seb and Marco hugged her, kissed Fia on both cheeks, then took a pace backwards when Ana smiled at them. Why were people always so nervous around her? She really wasn’t a bad person most of the time.
“How is he?”
“We don’t know yet,” Seb said. “He opened his eyes and mumbled a few words, then the doctors kicked us out. But Sierra just went in there, so we’ll get an update soon.”
“Who’s Sierra?”
“The nurse Marco likes.”
Marco turned pink. “Be quiet.”
“See?”
Yes, Emmy did. And Marco didn’t usually act coy about his conquests, which meant he really liked her. But today, Emmy was more interested in Eduardo’s condition than his son’s love life. The closed door didn’t even have a window, and when she pressed her ear against the wood, all she could hear was the low hum of voices, no actual words. Being patient sucked.
“Is it my imagination, or does Floriana look nervous?” she whispered to Ana.
“She does. But if she knew that we knew, she wouldn’t be here.”
When Sierra appeared, Emmy had to admit she was beautiful. And sweet. And totally gaga over Marco. Her face lit up when he gestured her to come closer, and even though she was talking to a group of people, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Mr. Garcia’s responding to commands. There’s a little confusion on occasion, but overall, he’s better oriented than the doctors expected.”
“Can we see him?”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to, but one at a time.”
Shit. The guard had been moved out of the room to make space for all the medical staff. Floriana had better not try to stick a pillow over Eduardo’s face because then Emmy would have to throw her out the damn window. Of course, the bitch got the first go with Eduardo—the perks of being married. Never mind that she’d tried to bloody kill him.
Emmy so desperately wanted to tell Seb and Marco that the woman they’d just hugged wasn’t the person they thought she was, but the hospital wasn’t the right place. As long as Eduardo stayed safe, exposing Floriana could wait until later. She came out with tears rolling down her cheeks and sat on a chair alone, but Emmy ignored her. The woman deserved her pain. The two boys each spent fifteen minutes with their father, and finally, it came to Emmy’s turn.
Black squeezed her hand as she hesitated in front of the door. She understood Eduardo wouldn’t be the fit, tanned, exuberant man she was used to, but how bad would it be?
The answer? Both awful and not as bad as she’d feared.
Eduardo had better colour than the last time she’d seen him, but he looked exhausted and he’d lost more muscle tone. At least his eyes were bright.
She squeezed his hand. “I won’t stay long.”
“I know why you’re here.”
“To see you.”
He shook his head, a tiny movement, but still a clear one. “No. To kill Floriana. Am I right?”
Fuck. “How did you find out?”
“Then I am right.”
“Yes, but I meant how did you find out she did it?”
“I’ve been able to hear for weeks. She apologised at least ten times a day, every time that stupid guard went to take a leak.”
“Mierda.”
“My thoughts also, angel. I woke up days ago, but I’ve been lying here like a corpse because I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Floriana’s nearly twenty years younger than me. Her ex-husband abused her, and when I had the bastardo shot, she was left with nothing. No home, no money. Did I ever tell you how we met?”
“No, you never did.”
“She didn’t know who I was, and she offered herself to me on the street for ten thousand pesos. Ten thousand pesos!” Whoa. Less than four dollars. “I gave her the money, then took her to dinner.” A small smile played across Eduardo’s lips. “Until I met Floriana, I never thought I’d get married again.”
“Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have.”
“Perhaps. But Floriana and I, we are the same. And you, Emerson. We all do what’s necessary in order to survive.”
“I’ve never tried to kill my husband.”
“You’ve never had a need to. I was stupid. Floriana looks quiet on the outside, but fire runs through her veins and she’s a fighter. She thought I was going to get rid of her, and she panicked.”
“Why would she have thought that?”
“I kept secrets. Shut her out rather than talking to her. Also, she knows I shot my fifth wife.”
Shitting hell. “I really didn’t want to hear that.”
“That puta cheated on me with one of my guards. I shot him too.”
“Do you know what TMI means?”
“Too Much Information. Floriana taught me that, but I didn’t give her enough information. She thought I was planning her funeral, when in fact, I was buying her a beach house.”
“You’ve talked to her about it?”
“Before my sons came in.”
“And? Do they know all this?”
“Those boys can be so hot-headed. I thought I’d talk to you instead.”
Emmy wasn’t sure whether to feel honoured or groan out loud. Why her? She’d gone out of her way to cultivate a prickly personality rather than
one that encouraged people to overshare.
“I should’ve stayed in Virginia.”
Eduardo acted as though she hadn’t spoken. “Florrie thinks she deserves to die. She’s sitting out in the hallway, waiting for you.”
“She kind of does deserve to die.”
“I understand that, logically. But I’m fifty-eight years old, and I don’t want to be alone. I’d miss her. And when Seb told her about the beach house, she realised what she’d done and cancelled the contract she took out on me. We’ve talked, and we understand each other much better now. No more secrets.”
Good grief. “So you want me to let her live?”
“Sometimes, people deserve a second chance.”
Eduardo was crazy, but then, Emmy already knew that. She’d abide by his wishes. “Fine. But if I hear so much as a whisper that she’s planning another stupid stunt like this, I’ll put a bullet through her head before she can fucking blink.”
Eduardo squeezed Emmy’s hand with surprising strength. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, angel. I appreciate this is awkward.”
Yeah. And speaking of awkward… “We also have another teensy problem.”
“Sí?”
“The sicario Floriana hired turned out to be Black’s long-lost nephew. Don’t you dare laugh. I’m still trying to get my head around it myself.”
Eduardo did laugh. Then he coughed, so Emmy poured him a glass of water and held the straw while he drank.
“You see how this is tricky? I promised Seb and Marco I’d hunt him down, and I did. I even tortured him a bit before I realised the connection, but I can’t exactly kill him now. And he’s gonna work for Blackwood. They’re all bound to meet eventually, and I really don’t want a gunfight.”
The Garcias were family. They couldn’t hide from each other forever. Unless Rafael took a leaf out of The Banker’s book and tried a little plastic sur—
No, that was ridiculous.
“I’ll talk to the boys. They will understand it was just business.”
“And Floriana shot Rafael.”
Eduardo rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Joder. She’s too smart, trying to get rid of the evidence.”
“Smart, but not such a good shot. She only winged him.”
“What are the chances of him letting that go?”
“Well, he seems to have forgiven me for pouring vodka in the bullet wound.”
“You’ll talk to him?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Gracias, ángel.” He held his arms out for a hug. “I thank God every day for bringing you to me.”
“I love you too, old man, but you need to learn to communicate better. And stop marrying psychos.”
“Maybe when I get out of here, we could take a trip to the beach house? The whole family?”
Yup, the dude was a fucking lunatic. “Just concentrate on breathing, okay?”
CHAPTER 51 - CORA
“IS THIS A joke?” I asked. “The whole reason you went to Colombia and found Rafael is because a drug lord decided to surprise his wife with a new house?”
Emmy looked as if she was desperately trying to keep a straight face. “That’s about it, yeah.”
“And he’s honestly forgiven her for trying to have him killed?”
“He’s gone soft in his old age.”
Soft? Insane, more like. But had Eduardo Garcia really ever been sane in the first place?
We’d flown back to Virginia yesterday, everyone far more relaxed than on the trip out. Then, I’d been questioning the wisdom of getting Mercy and Izzy involved in Roscoe’s death, but in the end, it had turned out to be a bonding experience. A shared exorcism of our demons.
Yes, we still had our bad times. I leaned on Lee for support. Mercy cried herself to sleep at night, and Izzy rarely slept at all. No, Izzy sought solace in music. I heard the quiet strains of Black’s grand piano in the early hours most mornings, and it wasn’t him who was playing it. And Hallie? Hallie drowned out her thoughts with gunfire, her new hobby, an hour on the range every morning, and I pitied any man who looked at her funny again.
But above all, we were survivors, sisters, our bond forged by a shared hatred of pink walls and black leather and men who preyed on people they saw as weaker than themselves.
We’d won, and we’d carry on fighting for what we believed in.
Much like Emmy and her team. She was more relaxed on the trip home too, and now that she and Black had sat me down and explained the situation with Eduardo, I understood why.
“What did Rafael say? Does he know?”
“He’s written off the gunshot wound as an occupational hazard.”
Huh. An occupational hazard. Floriana Garcia shot him and he brushed it off, yet he still held the entire time in the Florida house against Lee and eyed him up suspiciously at every possible opportunity.
“What?” Emmy asked.
“Rafael forgave Floriana, but he hates Leander, and Leander hasn’t even done anything to him.”
“Ah, but Floriana isn’t doing the nasty with his little sister.”
My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe she’d just said that, not in front of my uncle. But Black only laughed.
“Rafael will come around,” he said. “When I first met Nate, we acted the same way towards each other. He thought I was a stuck-up jerk, and I thought he was a judgemental asshole. Then our commanding officer shoved us off a boat and we bonded by almost drowning. I have a yacht available. It might help.”
“We’re not drowning anyone.”
“Then they’ll just have to grow on each other. But Rafael’s overprotectiveness wasn’t the main reason we wanted to talk to you. We have a proposal.”
“A proposal? What kind of proposal?”
“We’ve seen the way you’ve tried to help the other girls, and we’re hoping you might be interested in expanding that assistance.”
“Of course, but how?”
“As well as Blackwood Security, we run an offshoot, a charitable foundation set up to fund causes we’re passionate about. Helping homeless teenagers and providing interim accommodation for women escaping domestic violence are two of our projects, but now we’d like to assist victims of people trafficking too.”
“I’d love to be involved.”
They looked at each other, then Emmy took over.
“Until now, we’ve mainly funded the foundation from our own pockets, plus the occasional fundraising event. But we’ve recently come across a new source of money we’d like to somehow…integrate.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Banker had several billion dollars sitting in offshore accounts, which we’ve now liberated. Obviously, we can’t dump it into the foundation in one go, but over time, we could filter the funds in alongside other donations.”
“You stole The Banker’s money?”
“It’s not like he needs it anymore. Since it’s all the proceeds of crime, directly or indirectly, it seems right to use it to help others. Just keeping it would be wrong, and if we turn it over to the government, they’ll probably use it to buy new office furniture for Congress or something.”
Theft didn’t usually sit well with me, but Emmy made good points. Billions of dollars? That could help so many people.
“What would I need to do?”
“We’d like you to head up The Blackwood Foundation, with some assistance, obviously. Meet people who need help, decide on projects to fund, and act as an advocate for people whose voices aren’t strong enough alone. Find a way to use bad money for good.”
They were offering me a purpose in life. A goal. Society failed so many people, and now that I’d been thrust into this unexpected role, I could use my position to offer other people the support that I’d come to rely on.
“I’ll do it. Perhaps Mercy could help me?”
Emmy smiled, and that was the warmest I’d ever seen her. “Great idea. You’ll need to hire an accounts assistant, plus someone to give you a hand with
the admin. You’d run it almost as a business, just without the aim of making a profit.”
“I’ve never run a business before.”
“Don’t worry; we’ll guide you. It’s easy enough to hire in corporate expertise, but what you need for a venture like this is heart. You’ll do a good job. We both know it.”
“I think I might cry again.”
Emmy held out a box of tissues. “Go right ahead. But hurry up, because we’ve got work to do.”
I sniffed a bit but managed to hold back the tears. “Speaking of work, is there any news on The Banker’s other houses? And the girls who got sold?”
“The houses have been located. One in Kentucky, one near Chicago, and another in New York. But Merrick Childs is insisting on doing things by the book, which is somewhat ironic considering how many rules he broke before.”
“The girls are still in there? That’s…that’s…”
Horrific. Disgusting. Unfair. All of those words weren’t enough.
“We’ve given him a deadline. Two weeks to make his move or we’re going in ourselves, but we’ll have to avoid leaving a pile of dead bodies like we did in Florida. Unfortunately.”
“But two weeks is fourteen more days of hell.”
“They need to gather enough evidence to get convictions, otherwise the fuckers could walk.” Emmy gave my hand a squeeze. “I get that it’s hard to stand by and do nothing, but if we went through three more places the way we did in Florida and North Carolina, too many questions would get asked. And the FBI can’t sit on their hands, not this time. They’ll act.”
“And we can help the girls with the foundation’s new money?”
“You’ve got two weeks to work out the best way to do that.”
When she put it like that, two weeks didn’t seem very long at all. “Where do I start? I mean, I was an English teacher. I’ve never done anything with finance or charity or organising. Grandma used to give me a list to buy the freaking groceries.”
“I’m sure Leander would be happy to help. Did you know he has a degree in accountancy?”
“He does?”
“That was why he got seconded to a money-laundering investigation in the first place.”
Gradually, all the broken pieces were slotting together, and I finally had a future to look forward to. I pulled Emmy into a hug before I realised what I was doing.
