Violent Delights (White Monarch Book 1)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “How exactly did they target you?” I asked, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest.

  “There were thefts at two secret locations and an explosion in one of our tunnels the exact time my men were passing through.”

  Thefts. The phone call Diego had gotten when I’d been at his house came rushing back to me. In this case, a theft wasn’t better than the alternative. It could mean death.

  “Your dad and I have a plan in place to make sure nothing else happens to the rest of it. That’s why I was up all night. But until everything has crossed, I’m going to be on edge.”

  “How could you not be?” I asked. “What happens if anything else goes missing?”

  “This is the most we’ve ever undertaken,” he said. “Millions of dollars’ worth of drugs. It’s not like we can afford to cover it. So that means it’s gone.”

  Gone.

  I had the same shortness of breath I got whenever I thought too long about Cristiano forcing me to the brink of the tunnel. It had taken no effort on his part. Despite every ounce of fight I’d had, no matter what argument I’d put up, he’d still gotten me to the edge. And then down, down, down.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked. “Please tell me it involves taking out whoever’s behind this.”

  “It would if we knew who it was. Costa and Cristiano think it’s one of the Maldonados’ rivals . . .”

  I frowned. “But you don’t agree.”

  He flicked his thumb and middle finger a few times, then flexed his hand. “There are pieces of the puzzle that don’t make sense.”

  The only new variables in Papá’s business were the Maldonados and Cristiano. But Cristiano was more than a puzzle piece. He was the puzzle. Nothing about him was clear—not his involvement in my mother’s death, his unusual business practices, his patched together past, nor the men he surrounded himself with. “Cristiano is the wild card,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Diego sat forward and looked back at me. “Jesus, Talia—I swear, you’re the only person who gets it. You should be in charge around here.”

  I blushed. “It’s not that big of a leap to make.”

  “You’d think.”

  Cristiano had once been the best man to protect us. He’d known our weaknesses. Then, possibly, he’d exploited them. Had he returned to right the wrongs he felt had been dealt him as Diego had suggested? Did Cristiano actually hope to reposition himself in our family?

  A pit formed in my stomach at the thought that he had a greater plan. I didn’t trust Cristiano, but I did trust he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. “So how does your Maldonado deal fit into his plan?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. My gut tells me it’s some kind of power grab. Like we talked about the other day, an alliance between the Calaveras and the Cruzes would be formidable.” Diego leaned his elbows on his knees and ran both hands over his hair. “My father plotted to steal your family’s territory. He would’ve done it if Costa hadn’t put a bullet in him.” He glanced back at me. “History repeats itself.”

  “But your father’s plan was to kill mine,” I said. “Not unite.”

  Diego shrugged, but not casually. “What’s to stop Cristiano from anything once he’s gained your father’s trust?” He gestured toward the darkness concealing the compound before us. “If they merge, Cristiano will replace me. And once I’m out of the picture, there’s nobody in his path.”

  “His path to what?”

  “It’s a tale as old as time, Natalia. It’s only a matter of time before a prince fantasizes about being king.”

  “He’s king of his own cartel,” I said.

  “Cristiano’s anger has been simmering for many years. Maybe he still feels like a prince who never got what he was owed. The taste of power lingers eternal on a man’s tongue. Now that Cristiano has his own kingdom, I have no doubt he hungers for a second.”

  “Are you saying . . .” My throat went dry, and the first image that popped into my head was Cristiano and his bucket of sand. I grimaced. “Are you saying Cristiano wants to usurp my father?”

  Diego balled his fists, still leaning forward in the chair. “He’d have to earn Costa’s complete faith first. Then, Costa wouldn’t worry about turning his back to him. And that’s when Cristiano slips the knife in.”

  With a sharp pain in my jaw, I unclenched my teeth. Cristiano had already taken one parent from me. History would not repeat itself. I wouldn’t let it. “We have to tell my dad,” I said.

  “Costa won’t hear it. I’ve tried. Cristiano’s reach is too far and too deep. He has to be cut off at the root.”

  “You have no time left.” I knew how stubborn my dad could be, but if I caught him at the right time, maybe he’d listen. “I could talk to Papá.”

  “And say what? The minute you start asking questions, he’ll assume I sent you, put you on a plane, and come looking for me.”

  I massaged my palm with my thumb as I thought. “What happens if I return to school and one day, I get a call that Cristiano succeeded in taking out everyone who means anything to me? And I’d done nothing?”

  “What you did was keep yourself safe. That was the whole purpose of you going to school in the first place.” Diego bit his bottom lip, looking over his shoulder at me. Anxious as I was about what he was telling me, his concern for me was kind of sexy. “You’re out of this life, Natalia. Why dip a toe back in?”

  “To help you,” I said quietly.

  Diego blinked at me, then reached over and tucked my hair behind my ear. “That’s not your responsibility. I shouldn’t even be worrying you over this—it’s just that nobody else sees the truth.”

  “If I’d defy my own father to marry you, why wouldn’t I do everything I could to save your life? Even if it meant going to Cristiano myself?”

  “Going to Cristiano? No. I’ll figure this out, Natalia,” he said with conviction. “Believe me. Just the thought of building a life with you fuels me. I’d marry you tomorrow if only I could predict how this deal will end.”

  Cristiano had taken my fate into his hands once. He’d changed my life in moments. I wouldn’t afford him that kind of power again. If he stood between Diego and me, if he deigned to think he could lay a hand on my father, then I had to do something.

  I wouldn’t lose anyone else I loved to him.

  Ever since I’d fallen in a puddle of blood at his feet, our every interaction had been a mind game. Somehow, he’d known who I was at the costume ball and instead of keeping his distance, he’d danced with me. Toyed with me. Touched me. I couldn’t deny the rush that had accompanied his hands on me. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.

  He wanted to play. I could play too.

  The deep distrust Diego had for his brother was most likely reciprocated. That day eleven years ago, Cristiano had denied any part in my mother’s death, yet Diego had chosen truth and honor over his own blood. To many men in this world, that was an unforgiveable sin.

  And if Cristiano had considered my parents family, then I’d committed the same offense against him with my own accusations that day. But could there be any trace left of the man my mother and father had trusted? Was there more to Cristiano than a ruthless killer?

  If so, then there was a chance I could scratch his cold exterior and find the warmth beneath. “I’ll talk to Cristiano.”

  “Jamás. Never.” Diego frowned. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t.” I took a breath, hugging myself as the night began to cool. “I need to know for myself why he’s here, and what he’s planning.”

  “How? He’s not easily cracked, Talia.” Diego bit his thumbnail. “And yet . . . I sometimes wonder if he holds a soft spot where you’re concerned. Like maybe he cares about you.”

  That was a stretch. If there was anything between Cristiano and me, it was more carnal. More savage. A thirst for power and a knowledge that the most effective way to hurt my father would be through me. I was a tool for him. Aft
er so many years, it likely ran deeper still—an obsession with my family, and maybe even my mother, that had been fostered and stoked to the point that not even an eye for an eye would be enough. Perhaps he longed to defile me while my father stood helpless. I didn’t doubt Cristiano possessed a craving for me, even if it was just as simple as a man desiring a woman. But a fondness? No. The only soft spot between us was whichever part of my body he held in his grip. My girlish bicep years ago. My defiant gaze. My arched back as a woman, my hair tickling his forearm during our tango.

  My breath sped thinking of the possibilities. Instinct alone had told me as a nine-year-old girl that being the subject of Cristiano’s attention was as thrilling as it was dangerous.

  I didn’t know what exactly tied me to Cristiano, but I understood I could tighten the knot between us if I wanted. If I had the courage. “I think I can get in his head.”

  “You probably could, but I won’t let you.” Diego flipped the blanket off himself and stood to pace. “It’s too risky.”

  “I want to,” I said, following him with my eyes.

  He glanced over at me. “But you’ve always feared him, and with good reason.”

  What I knew about Cristiano scared me as much as what I didn’t know. Somehow, the more I learned, the more mysterious he grew. A perverse side of me wanted to test that fear to see if I could glimpse what he never seemed to show anyone.

  Nobody ran toward a man like Cristiano de la Rosa. How would he react if I did?

  “I have as much reason as anyone to want to bring him down,” I said.

  Diego raised his eyebrows at me. “I know, but—”

  “What other choice do we have?” I asked. “You were right. My father wants my head in the sand. He won’t respond well to me asking questions. And Cristiano doesn’t trust you.”

  “You think he trusts you?”

  He’d handled me like I was a child once but had spoken to me the opposite. He’d warned me of loyalty and justice and hadn’t shielded me from the reality that he could kill me if I didn’t help him. “He has no reason to trust me,” I answered, “but I think he did once.”

  Diego ran his hands over his face and looked up at the sky. “I’m corrupting you.”

  I wrapped myself in the warmth of the wool and got up to stand in front of him. “It’s a means to an end. Let me see if I can figure out why he’s back, and what he knows about the Maldonados.”

  Diego rubbed my arms through the blanket as his eyes drifted over my face. Resignation crossed his features as he nodded. “Okay. But you couldn’t just go to Cristiano or he’d suspect something. He has to come to you.”

  “How?”

  He blew out a breath. “Well . . . since I’ve been looking into him, I’ve discovered that he goes to this nightclub a couple towns over on Thursday nights. If you show up, he’ll want to know why you’re there. Then, you get him talking.”

  My heart pounded at just the thought of being alone in the dark with Cristiano again.

  “I’d be there of course,” Diego said, lowering his voice as he put his forehead to mine. “Watching from afar. Keeping you safe. Believe me when I say—he doesn’t lay a finger on you.”

  I nodded slowly. I was walking into the fire. Was it naïve to think I wouldn’t get burned? That I could possibly use the unidentifiable, twisted bond that had solidified Cristiano and me years ago to control a conversation with him now?

  “Won’t he be suspicious if I show up at a place out of town?” I asked.

  He twisted his lips. “No. Your father has a lot of eyeballs here who will report your whereabouts back to him, and Cristiano knows that. He’ll think you snuck out, because that’s what he wants to see.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “My brother is a born hunter. He’ll assume he caught you out in the wild. Let him hunt. Let him chase. If you make it easy, he’ll see right through you.” He squeezed my shoulders. “And be careful, Natalia. He’s a master manipulator. He’ll try to twist your memories or your perspective of him, but never forget what he’s capable of or what he did.”

  If he did it. I pushed the unbidden thought from my head. How could I doubt what I’d seen with my own eyes? What I knew in my gut? Cristiano had spoken of justice all those years ago, but nobody had ever imposed it on him.

  “I won’t forget,” I said.

  “He’s hurt too many people, and he will continue if we don’t stop him. Let your fury burn.” Diego clasped my hands and brought them to his mouth. Pressing a kiss to my knuckles, and with fervor in his words, he added, “Let it drive you toward the answers we need to stop him.”

  “I will,” I said.

  It was a promise. It had to be. Because even if I harbored the slightest doubt about what Cristiano had done, there was no question of what he could do.

  I feared I hadn’t even begun to imagine what he was capable of.

  And that if he caught me trying to cross him, I would learn.

  11

  Natalia

  In the States, there wasn’t much of a rush in trying to get past a bouncer who studied my tits harder than my fake ID. But here, at La Madrina, while the doorman inspected my license, I could only think about how I was putting my life on the line to get information from one kingpin to save another. And I hated that each time my heart palpitated with trepidation, a tremor of excitement followed.

  The bouncer gave Pilar and me a once-over before he unhooked the velvet rope to let us pass. I entered the nightclub with nothing on me but a credit card stuck into the neckline of my black, strapless mini dress and oversized gold hoops that swung each time my platforms hit the ground.

  The windowless club had three levels with VIP railed off and overlooking the dancefloor from three sides. A large, rotating disco ball had been hung for the 70s theme, and it reflected white light from a DJ booth against the wall opposite the entrance. The club was dark enough for someone to hide in corners, but lit enough that a person could be seen if she wanted. Somewhere up there, Diego waited in the wings, hidden from everyone, including me. I felt his eyes on me, though—watching, waiting, guarding.

  Pilar and I hit the bar first and the dancefloor next. Diego was convinced I didn’t need to do anything to capture Cristiano’s attention except show up and dance, so that’s what I did, dangling myself out in the open like a fresh piece of meat.

  When a gut feeling spurred me to look up, I met a dark and burning gaze from the floor above. In a white dress shirt with rolled sleeves and an open collar, Cristiano leaned his elbows on the rail with a drink in hand. A cigarette dangled from his lips. He’d clearly been staring but didn’t flinch or pull away.

  I sipped from my straw. Will you come?

  He shifted against the rail, narrowing his eyes on me.

  I turned slightly, holding his gaze as I moved my hair off my neck.

  Oh, yes. He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and turned away.

  He didn’t come at first, but I felt eyes on my every move. Was it only Diego? Or both men? To have Cristiano’s interest was to put myself in the line of fire, and I was in his crosshairs now, wearing nothing more than a bandage for a dress.

  Pilar had picked up a dance partner, and the man’s friend slid up behind me.

  Before I could react, Pilar grabbed my arm and yanked me to her. “I-I think Cristiano de la Rosa is here.”

  “He is,” I said. “I saw him.”

  “Then that’s him coming over here? Why?” The cubes in her Long Island Iced Tea rattled against the glass. “What does he want?”

  “Nothing with you,” I assured her.

  “This is Cristiano we’re talking about, he—” She jumped when her dance partner touched her waist. Her drink fell and shattered at our feet. “Perdón,” she said, bending to pick up the glass. “I’m sorry. It slipped.”

  “Don’t touch that.” I stopped her, urging her back up. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s a bastard, Talia.” Her eyes widened into saucers. �
�He nearly beat mi primo to death, remember? In my mom’s shop.”

  “Your cousin was skimming off the top,” I told her. “And bragging about it.”

  “I was there,” she whispered. “I ran into the stockroom to hide, but that was where Cristiano took him to do it. I saw the whole thing from behind some pineapple crates.”

  “I know.” I rubbed my eyebrow. “But that was years ago—”

  “And your mother?” she asked, raising her voice over the music. “Do you tell yourself it doesn’t matter because it was so long ago?”

  The man Pilar had been dancing with closed in again as his friend slipped an arm around my waist. I swatted at him, and he backed off. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said to Pilar.

  “That monster is ten times worse now—why did your father bring him here?” She took my arm, trying in vain to pull me away. “Please, we have to leave.”

  “He won’t do anything, Pila. We’re in public.”

  “Do you think that matters?”

  I didn’t have to answer. Cristiano probably got off on taking a life in front of an audience. “Go get someone to clean this mess. I can handle Cristiano,” I said, even as a wave of doubt coursed through me.

  “He has to be two meters tall. He could pick you up with one hand, Tali.” She shook her head. “You can’t be alone with him.”

  “I’m not alone. Look at all these people.” My dance partner tried to slip between Pilar and me. “Déjame en paz,” I said, pushing him off, hoping Diego wouldn’t get jealous and blow his cover. “Go away.”

  The man showed me his palms but continued dancing near us.

  “But—” Pilar began.

  I pulled her to me and whispered, “I’m fine. Diego’s here—no, don’t look for him. Is Cristiano still coming?”

  “He’s walking onto the dancefloor—”

  “Go to the bar,” I pleaded. “Now.”

  She was trembling. “I shouldn’t leave you.”

  Within moments, Cristiano’s unmistakable presence warmed my back. I inhaled slowly to calm myself, even as my palms sweat. I hadn’t knowingly been alone with him since the tunnel.