Navarro
I’d spent most of my life reliving the violent acts I’d endured as a teenager. I’d been told by my teachers that I needed professional help in dealing with my grief, ridiculed by counselors in telling me they had no interest in assisting a monster, and mocked by a court system that had no issue releasing a juvenile delinquent into the world.
After losing everything I held dear, I’d been saved not by the grace of God, but by Rafael Torres, the now retired patriarch of the dangerous Spanish regime. In a sense, I’d been provided with another opportunity to gain a family, only not in the traditional sense.
I’d become a soldier, a trained killer whose rage and hatred had been put to good use. For two decades, I’d ceased wallowing in pity and despair, shutting down all emotions and becoming a killing machine.
The shift had served me well, the bluntness in my methods of extracting information from spineless traitors and slaughteringthe bastards determined to destroy my new life had been unprecedented.
And brutal.
I’d been happy over the years, quick fucks satisfying my carnal needs, with millions of dollars and lavish toys.
During the years after the massacres had left the city streets of Barcelona strewn with bodies, I’d thought little about a typical nuclear family. In my world and in my mind, they didn’t exist. Why was it that spending limited time with a woman determined to kill me had brought back both memories and emotions from a past I wanted no part of?
Was it about Fallon’s sense of family, her obvious determination for rescue and retaliation?
I couldn’t be certain, but one aspect of our electric connection remained locked in the forefront of my mind. She was someone from my past. Perhaps not in a critical way, but there was a strained tether that had lasted through decades. Unfortunately, I’d dealt with far too many people to pinpoint where and when the memory lay hidden.
Sighing, I had no idea what I was going to do with her.
What nagged at me was that while I didn’t know her and certainly couldn’t turn my back on the dangerous woman, I wanted to ease her pain. In any way I could do so. That definitely wasn’t like me in the least.
Why did I have the distinct feeling I’d need to keep a short leash on Fallon or at minimum lock her inside a room?
Maybe a cage was more appropriate for the wild tiger.
The thought was colorful and amusing. Next, I’d be purchasing a whip.
Not a bad idea.
Yet as tempting as she was, her accusations wore heavily on me and I wasn’t certain why this time was more profound than any other. She’d simply joined a long list of people who either blamed me for the destruction of their tiny worlds or had accused me of something I couldn’t possibly have done.
“She’s inside.” Silvio pointed toward a closed door as we walked past, heading for Eduardo’s ridiculously large office.
“Make certain she doesn’t leave while I make a phone call. She’s clever.”
He grinned. “You certainly have your hands full.”
“Yes, I do.” I pulled out my phone, both fuming and more intrigued than I’d been before. I moved toward the office, calling Jago as I did.
Silvio retreated and I didn’t bother closing the door. But I did pace the room.
“I got your text,” Jago said as he answered. “You’re certain about Fassi’s men being in the area?”
“As certain as what the old guy told me.” We were both eager for the cat and mouse game to end. Fassi also had a vendetta against us and in my mind, his acts of revenge had always seemed personal as well.
“What exactly did this informant say?”
God, I needed a drink. It felt as if I’d been in an MMA fight. “That Fassi’s men were in town, possibly hooked up with anotherorganization but he wasn’t certain whom. Definite sighting. Definitely asking questions about your cousin.”
“Alcarez Cartel,” he muttered. “That doesn’t surprise me. The fuckers are opportunists, selling their souls and everything else including their firstborn for money and drugs. But it would seem they’re stepping up their game. As you know, the cartel gained additional power over the last few months. From what I heard, they absorbed another cartel. Eduardo was right to be concerned.”
“Are we certain someone from the Alcarez Cartel shot him?” The man had in place more security measures than I’d ever considered, yet he’d been gunned down just outside the pristine iron gates. Where the hell had his men been hiding at the time?
“My cousin seems to believe it was retaliation for the help he provided during Kruz’s quick stop in Mexico a few months ago,” Jago gritted out.
Kruz Blanco, the Druglord’s dictator, a man I’d sparred with several times. While we were like oil and water, our different strengths had created a powerful team over the years. With Farid Fassi remaining at large and eager to retaliate against his crushing defeat by destroying the Torres Empire, it was of vital importance we worked together.
