“Not for long. I swear, not for long.”
That hurt.
It hurt him, too.
• • •
The day Chris would leave the ranch came far too soon for his liking. Despite having a ticket bought, and a time he had to be at the airport to make his flight, he still took his time packing up his bag in the guest house he used during his stay. One thing at a time—slowly.
Soon, he’d packed his bags, and set them on the front porch of the small house. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared out over the property and the houses connected by small pathways.
Time to say goodbye.
Even if wasn’t a goodbye.
It still seemed like it.
Chris picked up the bag at his feet, settling his raging heart to finish this. The quicker he left, the faster this plan—even if he didn’t understand everything, and still had more yet to figure out on his end—would get started. And that’s what he wanted and needed more than anything, right?
To get Val, and Maria, away from here.
It sucked he had to leave first.
Chris hadn’t expected Jorge to be waiting in front of his house, a handful of men loitering within shouting distance, as he came down the pathway. While the man had been mostly respectful during his stay here, Chris understood it wasn’t because Jorge wanted to be. Rather, it was because he had to be.
He wanted that deal.
Now, he had it.
He thought.
“Ready to head out?” Jorge asked, his foot kicking out at Maria’s striped gray and white kitten that jumped over his boot. “Damn cat. Maria! Get out here and put this goddamn thing somewhere before I throw it off the cliffs!”
Chris tried not to show his annoyance at hearing the little girl he cared a great deal for be yelled at in that way. And by her own father, no less. She was such a sweet child, but her father didn’t seem to care.
“I am heading out,” Chris said as the screen door on the porch pushed open. Little Maria came out, but wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze as she came down the steps. Not too far behind her was her mother. Valeria stayed in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, and watched Chris from a safe distance. “Have to catch that flight, or I will never hear the end from my mother when I don’t show up for her dinner tomorrow.”
Jorge made a noise under his breath. “Women. They’re all the fucking same. More trouble than they’re worth.” Then, to his daughter who picked up the kitten, he snapped, “And keep the fucking thing out of my sight, got it?”
Maria looked over her shoulder and nodded. Still, her gaze drifted to Chris for a moment, meeting his. He swore, in the depths of her irises, he saw the little girl’s secrets, all the things she had seen and known, staring back at him.
“Remember,” she said to him, “you promised.”
His heart ached.
All over, so painful, and unrelenting.
It hurt.
Chris nodded. “I did, Maria, and I’ll keep it.”
In the doorway, Valeria called for her daughter, the flash of worry on her face disappearing when Jorge looked her way. “Come on, Maria, and we’ll get the kitty milk in a bowl, so she’ll be sleepy.”
“Okay, Mamá.”
Maria darted up the stairs, and into her mother’s waiting arms. It killed Chris to look away from them, but he did it. He was not good at hiding his affections. One of his only flaws, but he couldn’t afford for it to be on display.
Jorge shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as his attention came back to Chris. “And what did you promise my daughter?”
He chuckled.
Dry and tense as it was.
“Just that I would come back and say hello someday,” Chris murmured. “She’s a sweet child. You should be proud of her—fathers and their daughters, hmm?”
Jorge arched a brow. “Proud, sure.”
Fuck him.
He didn’t deserve that child, or her mother. Jorge might have helped to create Maria’s life, but he had nothing more to do with it than that. He provided the sperm, but Maria didn’t reflect the man.
She deserved a good man in her life—a father who would show her what real love and care was between a daughter, and her dad. She needed someone to show her how she deserved to be treated by the men in her life, so she didn’t go looking for it somewhere else.
Jorge understood nothing about that; his reaction wasn’t shocking. It still annoyed Chris to no fucking end, and only strengthened his resolve to make sure Maria, and her mother, found the happiness they deserved far away from this place, and the people here.
Including Jorge.
Any man could be a father.
All it took was the spunk from his balls.
Being a dad was not the same.
“A car will meet you at the gate,” Jorge said, nodding toward the dirt road, “like when you arrived.”
Right.
Because the only vehicles allowed this far into the ranch brought the family back to their homes, or ones carrying drugs. Jorge’s rules never changed, not even for a guest who had promised to make him billions on a smuggling deal.
Whatever.
Chris didn’t mind the walk.
“Pleasure doing business with you and your father,” Jorge said. “Have a good flight, Chris.”
He smiled. “Oh, I don’t think it’s finished yet.”
Chris didn’t allow Jorge the chance to question him on what he meant because he had already spun on his heels and headed for the road. He figured ... let him wonder. It would be good for him even if he wouldn’t see what came next.
• • •
Chris took in the darkening sky as the town car crawled through a busy section of the city. His driver, one of the Lòpez grunts, kept quiet throughout the drive. The man in the passenger seat, only there for decoration because he did nothing else, also remained silent throughout the drive.
Not that Chris cared.
He had other things on his mind.
A few miles from the airport, the two men in the front conversed back and forth in Spanish. It still left Chris out of the conversation, mostly. He had picked up a few words and phrases since his time here, and some language was close to Italian—or rather, close enough he made do.
“Happy ... gone,” he caught from one.
“It is who Jorge is,” he understood better from the other.
Chris almost chuckled, understanding they were talking about him, and that Jorge wanted to see him go. He was fine with that, too, but he would be a hell of a lot better once he took Valeria and Maria from the man’s clutches.
Soon, he told himself.
It would happen soon.
“What time is the flight again?”
The quick switch to English had Chris looking forward to meet the driver’s stare in the rear-view mirror. A brow raised in question to his silence, but Chris said, “Five-twenty.”
“Ah, we’re making good time, then.”
Chris checked his Rolex, saying as he tilted his head down, “Looks like it.”
“What the fuck—Juan!”
He didn’t get the chance to find out what the other man in the passenger seat shouted about because the impact of something hitting their car sent Chris flying across the back of the vehicle. He hadn’t buckled in. A mistake. His head cracked against the glass of the rear passenger window, but that was the least of his worries.