Catching Cristiano’s eye, I nodded. “Tell her, Vergara.”
“Gabby Duchesne.”
Two words snapped Ava to attention, her eyes unable to look anywhere but on Cristiano. “What did you say?”
His eyebrows shot up. “An employee of yours, am I right?”
Not just an employee. The employee. The missing girl. Friend of her pet project and baby-faced pole gymnast, Giselle. The one who started this whole damn thing for her.
“What do you know about Gabby?”
“I know his men shipped her through your own port and into Mexico where she was conditioned and sent to Tenancingo. I don’t have to tell you what usually happens after that.”
He didn’t have to tell any of us. The small town was one of the most dangerous and powerful human trafficking hubs in the world. Entire families participated in extensive criminal networks designed to recruit, kidnap, and exploit women into sexual slavery.
If I had my way, I’d send a team of sicarios in to wipe out the whole fucking town.
Ava clutched the table. “Is she…”
Cristiano glanced my way. “Why don’t you ask Val?”
She slowly faced me, and for the first time, the ice queen’s face looked ashen. Usually, when someone assumed the offense like that, I made a point of turning the tables. But not now. Not about this.
“After Cristiano showed up here and informed me of everything, I made a few phone calls,” I told her. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, including Tenancingo. She’s on her way back to Miami along with twelve other girls.”
And that was why I couldn’t have my way.
Why bullets and fire weren’t raining down on Tenancingo right now.
Ava’s chest visibly deflated. “Thank God.” However, the relief quickly dissipated, and the ashen pallor of her face stained with the color of rising hell. As if manipulated by a string, her head slowly twisted around, her eyes black as coal. “Zhopu porvu, glaza vikolyu!”
My Russian was weak, but I was fairly sure she just informed Ronan she was going to rip out his ass and poke out his eyes.
So, I poured another drink and waited for the show. After all, I wrote the script and handpicked the cast.
“Ava—”
It was the last word Ronan Kelly ever spoke. Like the ice queen she was, Ava pulled a knife from under her dress, popped the blade, and with a precise flick of her wrist, sank it deep into his carotid artery. I wasn’t sure the fat fuck even knew what hit him before he dropped to the floor in a puddle of his own blood.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
Any other woman would have collapsed as soon as whatever adrenaline spike prompted her to commit spontaneous homicide drained out of her, but not Ava. The Miami pakhan calmly took her seat and folded her hands in front of her as her husband kept a watchful eye. “I’ll want my knife back,” she said in an even tone.
“I’ll see to it.” I smirked as Mateo rose to his feet to escort a shocked Cristiano out of the room. “And send in a cleaner,” I called after him. “I want this bloated piece of shit out of here before he starts to smell.”
A perfect ending to Act One.
As low chatter grew into incessant arguing, I stood, reclaiming command of the room. “Since the first problem has been taken care of,” I announced, “everyone shut the fuck up so we can discuss the other.” When the room settled to a whisper, I added, “As you all have been informed, Dante Santiago and I agreed to a temporary truce. We have two mutual interests at stake, and while they are being eradicated and serviced, there will be no attacks on the Colombians or interference with any of their shipments. Do I make myself clear?”
I shot a hard glance around the table until each person nodded their agreement, the dead body at the end of the table already a forgotten inconvenience.
“Muy bien. In two days, we make our move on New York, but we’ll be working our water and ground forces in conjunction with Santiago’s men.”
A throat cleared on my left. “I don’t see why you don’t just go in and take what you want,” Adriana said, bunching her veil in her hands. “We have the positioning. We have the intel. Screw two days. We should strike tomorrow.”
My eye twitched at my sister’s insolence, but it was her wedding day, so I forced myself to tolerate her outburst. “Because deals aren’t brokered that way. We have the intel because of Ava and her contacts. Besides, double-crossing didn’t end that well for our friend Ronan, did it?”
Ava smirked.
“Not only that, Santiago has a dirty New York senator with slick palms and an irritating accent on his payroll. Sanders ruled that area before he turned it over to them. Do you really think Santiago’s ally-turned-political-shit-stirrer doesn’t still have his dick in his old backyard? Sometimes fifty-percent of a lucrative operation is more profitable than a hundred percent of a bullet-ridden drained piece of shit.”
She sat back, blowing a soft breath between rounded lips. “You should never underestimate a man like Dante Santiago, Val. He’d burn down a forest before he’d let anyone steal his shade. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I held up my drink. “I always do. Besides,” I added, glancing at Ava. “Santiago isn’t the only one with allies jerking their dicks all over the Constitution.”
A rare pause of silence permeated the room until Niko’s eyes narrowed and he rose out of his chair like an automated machine. Without a word, he moved toward the window and stared up at the sky.
I cocked my chin. “Do you have a problem, Gaheris?”
“No,” he answered in a monotone voice. “But three of yours just arrived.”
Chapter Nine
Valentin
The room tumbled into shadows as if the sun itself was hiding from the impending storm.
Frowning, I glanced toward the window where Niko stood. An entourage of black helicopters had begun their descent onto my estate, but all I could see was that fucking color again—only this time there was an ocean of it flowing all the way back to me.
“Santiago,” Mateo muttered.
“Danger,” I countered. Eden should give up her exclusive rights to my nickname because a whole load of it would be landing on my front lawn in the next sixty seconds.
I pushed away from the table and rose to my feet. It caused a ricochet of movement around the room. Mateo, Brody, and Ava joined me and Niko by the window, and we watched in silence as the Santiago elite spilled from the Bell Ranger 407 helicopters—smearing their brand of darkness all over my front lawn.
“Ava, tell Santiago to keep his gun in his pants around my family.” I issued the threat through gritted teeth, my gaze never straying from a tall, dark-haired man in black pants and shirt. He couldn’t even be bothered to wear a suit to my sister’s wedding. I felt my palm curl into a fist as Santiago turned to help a petite brunette in a white dress down from the Ranger. “If he starts flashing it around like a cocky motherfucker, he’ll be a dead one instead.”
“Santiago wouldn't be so restrained,” Mateo said mildly. “The man doesn’t flash. He fires first and doesn’t give a shit about the consequences later.”