By doing that, at the very least, I ensured that I could keep from adding to theunhappinessthat she seems to be drowning in.
What a fucking fall from grace.
But it’s all I can do now. That, and make sure she’s safe for the rest of her life, even if I’m doing so from what might as well be a world away.
THE SOUND OF MY phone ringing pierces the dark atmosphere, rousing me from a too-light slumber. My hand flies to the nightstand on pure reflex, because the only people calling in the middle of the night are people in America, and one person in particular is the reason for my prolific nights of too-light sleeping.
But she’s not the one calling.
The screen is lit up with the nameVinnie Pasquino, and I exhale listlessly, briefly toying with the idea of not answering. Curiosity wins me over, and I answer.
“Mister Pasquino, it’s the middle of the n—”
“Your fee just doubled, Sterling.”
I blink at the darkened ceiling. “I beg your pardon.”
“I sent my two of my guys to a place I never should’ve, onyourorders, and they got fuckin’ smoked.” He sucks in a breath and wheezes out a cough. “Two of my best fuckin’ guys, Sterling. I got your fuckin’ intel because they found that poor old broad, and now she’s fuckin’ dead, too. Those piece of shitmafiososfound out she spoke to them and offed all three of ‘em. I hope you’re satisfied.”
I shoot up in bed. “What?”
“You fuckin’ heard me. Check your fuckin’ email, send me my fuckin’ payment, and don’t fuckin’ contact me again.”
The line goes dead.
I bring the phone to my line of sight and open the email app. Sure enough, right there at the top, is a message from Vinnie with an audio attachment. Opening the attachment, I hear nothing but static and muffled activity at first, but then a voice starts speaking in Spanish, and I hold the speaker close to my ear so I don’t misunderstand any of it.
“It was a plan for many years to reclaim Ernesto’s wealth for the family.” The voice belongs to an elderly woman. And I know it’s the same woman who warned me about the hit on Isla’s life two years ago. And I know she’s dead now. And according to Vinnie, that is a direct result of our conversation two weeks ago, when I insisted that he send his people to find her and talk to her. His people, who are now also dead.
I feel a little sick.
But that doesn’t stop me from listening.
“How many years?”a male voice asks, also speaking in Spanish.
“I am not sure. Maybe fifteen.”
“And the target has always been the eldest daughter?”
“Yes. There were two previous attempts to use her as an incentive for Ernesto to return his inheritance. The first was thwarted by the Duke getting in the way. They went to Ernesto’s home after learning Isla was staying there while the family was traveling. They assumed she was alone, but the Duke was there, and he intervened.”
I pause the audio, and my hands are now shaking.
That night.
The night of the first miscarriage when I found those two pieces of shit slinking around the Reyes’ home.
My nerves are suddenly infused with electricity, and I throw the sheet off of me, leap out of bed, and begin pacing my room as I hit play.
“The second attempt was successful in taking her, but there were complications with it,”the graveled female voice continues.
A second male voice interjects, “What kind of complications?”
There’s a brief pause.“The plan had to change because it wasn’t working. Ernesto did not cooperate the way they anticipated.”
“What was the original plan?”the first male voice asks. “And how did he not cooperate?”
“How were they hoping he would—”the second male voice adds, but is cut off by unintelligible words from the first.
