Chapter Thirty-Two
Costa Rica
My hands rest on the terrace wall, still supporting this damned leg of mine as I gaze out at the view and sigh. Turquoise waters stretch out as far as my eyes can see, soft sun dropping low in the sky and kissing the horizon. Life will be better here, safer to some degree. We have a three-sixty vantage of the surrounding area, nothing but this beach to the front of us, and the cliffs climbing at the sides. We’re secure here, or at least as secure as a Cane can be.
It only took a few phone calls to old contacts to find this place, and then a heavy conversation with Raphael Denago reminding him of the loyalty he still owes us. Quinn might have killed his son last year, but that only increases our leverage in Columbia rather than diminishing it, and so Costa Rica serves as a useful port between Chicago and there. It also means we have backup if we need it, something that Quinn is building back up no matter how much I hate the thought. This is life again now, and having the Columbians on board again is, while damned fucking irritating, necessary against the Yakuza.
Not that I trust them.
But that’s Quinn’s job to manage.
I watch as the team sweep the side of the house, builders solidifying the fencing I’m having put up to help, and then look back to the cove off to the left of me and smile. She doesn’t know yet, but this is all mine already—hers, too. I bought it the moment I got to the hotel, knowing it was necessary for both of us, for the whole family. Quinn was right; lying low is essential for a while. I’d rather it was Bora, so we could remember, but that’s not possible anymore. They followed her there, knew our every fucking move. This is the next best place I can think of. If I’m going to be on edge for the next however long, I’ll do it here with her by my side and this view to occupy my thoughts.
My phone vibrates, Quinn’s name flashing. I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail, and tuck it back into my pocket alongside the only thing I care about at the moment. I know where he is—New York. He’s gone there to secure our future in the only way he knows how, bridging old relationships again. It’s a shame, but it is what it is now, no matter how much I hate it. He told me as much in the last conversation we had, told me to do what I wanted for a while because when the time came to start all the shit again there wouldn’t be any turning back. He’s right about that, too. I know it and so does he. This is personal now.
It’s coming no matter what.
So, I’m doing exactly what I want to do, and she’ll do as she’s told, with any luck.
I smile again as I look at the blue of the waves lapping the shore, and then check my watch. Time waits for no man, certainly not a Cane. I’m making the most of every second we’ve got. It’s the reason we stopped on route last night, giving me a chance to get the one thing I needed to make this dream become a reality. Maybe dreams are for fools in our situation, but I’ll make it as close to one as I can for her.
“Boss?” I turn and look at Denny in his suit, snorting at the look of it in this island’s heat. “Perimeter is clean and locked.” I nod and walk towards him, flicking my eyes to the other end of the terrace and wondering where she is.
“You don’t need to wear a suit, Den.” He fiddles with his earpiece, straightening his shoulders at my suggestion of idiotic clothing. It’s like he’s on double time in some covert op in desert storm. I suppose he is in some ways, will be until I can get that Yakuza bitch off our backs, or Quinn does. “I’m not paying you to look good, just to keep us alive.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he replies, immediately shrugging out of his jacket.
I pat him on the shoulder and walk on by. If anyone will protect Gabby, it’s him. He’s done it once before, and he’ll do it again. That’s his job from now on—protect her first, then me. I couldn’t have picked a better man. No family. No commitments. And a trigger-happy finger that’s got no problem raining hell down on anyone who gets in his way. I left the rest of the team to him after he accepted my offer. It was substantial, and all he’s got to do is keep us alive to get it each year.
“Everything ready?” I call back, weaving my way around the pool.
“Yes, boss.” I nod and look upwards, praying to God that this works.
“Where is she?”
“Top floor. Joe is with her.”
I walk on after that, crossing the manicured garden and wandering through the foliage that shades the house from the rest of the world. Palm trees line the front of it, all of them as tall as the first floor, a large glass balcony jutting out over them. It’s paradise, literally, has been since the moment we landed.
The cool air creeps into my bones as I enter and start for the staircase, feet echoing across the hall’s cream marble floors. Christ knows who built this place, but it’s immense. It reminds me of home in some ways, albeit a fresher version.
“Gabby?” I shout up, hand grasping at the rails to help me up the stairs.
There’s no response, but if I know anything about her by now it’s that she’ll be doing the same as I was ten minutes ago, getting lost in our new view. I snatch a flower from a vase as I go by and turn into the main landing, looking into every room as I walk on. Not that I need to, I know just where she’ll be. Why the hell the old owners had the east wing as their master suite I don’t know. It should be right where I’ve chosen our room, looking out at our sea and sighing at the thought of its magnificence.
“You getting lost again?” I ask, turning into the room and waving at Joe to leave his position at the door.
She’s sitting there on the end of the four-poster bed, a white sarong wrapped around her hips and nothing but a miniscule bikini covering her top half. “We need to have discussions about dress code.”
She looks back at me, a smile coming.
“That shit is not acceptable with the team around.”
Her beam grows wider, a light laugh following as she gets up and sashays over to me, hips swinging as her bare feet cover the space between us.
“Is that for me?” she asks, looking at the flower in my hand. I nod as she takes it from me and puts it over her left ear, tucking it into place just like that night at the casino, curls falling gracefully along her jaw. Shame it’s not a Tahitian gardenia anymore, but Costa Rica doesn’t have them, and that’s where we are now for better or worse.
“Looks good.” It does, but it will look better when those fucking bruises have disappeared completely.
