Impossible Odds

17

Stepping over to the bed, I sat on the edge next to where she lay on her side, now draped in a white sheet. “I’ll come to you before I go, one way or another.” I trailed my knuckles down the smooth slope of her arm, unable to keep from touching her, then picked up her phone from the nightstand. “Open it.” She took the device from my hand and unlocked it, then handed it back. After keying in my phone number, I sent myself a text. “Now you have my number. Text me if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll come to you when I can.” “What if I don’t want you to leave?” I stilled. “Don’t ask that question with such longing in your voice. You won’t be happy with the result.” “Are you sure?” I met her gaze, mossy green in the dimly lit room. “I’ve never been more unsure of anything in my life.” *** An hour later, I could still smell Giada on my skin as I walked into the home of my boss’s brother. Juan Carlos was twenty years younger than Naz, but no less powerful. If anything, his youth and convincing portrayal of a family man made him even more dangerous because he was easy to underestimate. He was known to most as El Tigre, and his kill tally rivaled my own. He’d never been my biggest fan, and I daydreamed ways to put him in the ground. Naz figured out early on that it was best if Juan Carlos and I didn’t work together often. Unfortunately, my trip to New York made seeing him a necessity. This was the first time I was meeting him at his home. I wasn’t surprised to find it was a small fortress. Juan Carlos liked to make a statement, and though he was supposed to be flying under the radar, he had still acquired an impressive home as his base of operations. The perimeter of the property was lined with a stone wall, and while there was no gated entry, a guard met me at the front of the house. When guests arrived at the home, they were greeted with a GrecoRoman fountain and two gargantuan stone columns flanking the front entry. The place was easily twenty thousand square feet inside, if not more. I had a good size home of my own but saw no need to possess rooms I’d never use. It was just one of the many ways Juan Carlos and I would never see eye to eye. “Señor Vargas is in his office, Señor Primo. Please, follow me.” The front door guard nodded respectfully and led me back to his boss. As we approached, Vargas’s daughter rushed from the office, hands balled at her sides and eyes glassy with unshed tears. She nearly walked straight into us before she pulled up short in surprise. “Oh, excuse me,” the young woman gasped, then ducked her head and scurried past us. I didn’t imagine living with Juan Carlos as a father was a pleasant experience. I may not have had a stellar childhood, but there was a definite possibility hers was worse. It was unfortunate, but not my business. “Primo, I was expecting you days ago. Where have you been?” Vargas asked when I passed through the threshold of his office. “I’ve been looking into a few matters for Naz.” As I spoke, I took in the grand executive office lined with mahogany bookshelves and designed to emphasize the importance of its primary occupant. Like the rest of the house, it was ostentatious for my tastes, but it suited Vargas. “The Russians? I told him I would handle that. With a little more time, I can get them to back off.” “Naz has determined that course of action is no longer an option. I’m here to carry out the backup plan.” “What backup plan?” he bit out, jaw clenched. I trained my eyes back on Vargas, keeping my features schooled. “If Naz hasn’t told you, it’s not my place to do so. We only have a couple more weeks until that shipment comes in, and we can’t afford to waste any more time. Naz has come up with a new plan to gain access to a port. If you want to know the details, you’re free to ask him.” I would not come between the brothers any more than I already had. Naz knew that Juan Carlos’s dislike for me could lead to him interfering with my efforts, endangering my success. The internal discord in our management was a problem but not my place to fix. Naz needed to keep his brother in check, but instead, he often looked the other way and avoided dealing with his ambitious sibling. Juan Carlos’s face darkened with a crimson rage, a vein visibly bulging on his forehead. “That’s f*****g bullshit.” “It’s a f*****g ten-million-dollar deal and the start of a new trade relationship. That’s not bullshit. Potentially hundreds of millions are on the line here, and you don’t get to f**k it up by insisting on doing things your way.” I usually kept my cool when I dealt with Juan Carlos, but I found myself lacking patience and straining to keep my fists from balling. “Then why are you here if I’m to be kept in the dark?” he sneered. “Aside from informing you to cease your efforts with the Russians, I came to give you a heads-up. Two possible scenarios could unfold. One of them, should it transpire, would require your assistance.” He tipped his head back, his lips blossoming into a satisfied grin. “I see. So, you might need my help, but I’m not permitted to know with what.” I raised my hands with a shrug. “It is what it is. I don’t make the rules.” In a flash, his sneer was back. “You have my f*****g number. Maybe I’ll be available when you call.” He turned his back on me, returning to his desk chair in a show of dismissal. For one of the most feared men in our business, he could act like an overgrown child. I couldn’t help smirking from the satisfaction of being the source of his tantrum. It was time to leave before matters devolved further. As I turned to exit, something on one of his shelves caught my attention. I froze, examining the delicate features of an object I knew well. A small statue of the Lady of Guadalupe. I walked to the place where she humbly stood, arms outstretched in welcome. “What are you doing?” Vargas barked, but I was too stunned to reply. I picked up the figurine, only about four inches tall, and turned it over in my hands, studying every tiny detail. In particular, I stared at the three broken prongs of light radiating from her left side. All the other prongs surrounding her were intact, but those three had been cut in half. “Did you go to see her?” I asked. “No, I never made it there,” he answered warily, unsure of my intent. “Seems odd to have a souvenir if you never went.” “That’s because it’s a souvenir but not from the holy site.” I nodded, eyes never leaving the figurine. “My mother took me when I was young, and we bought a statue just like this while we were there. Two years later, I accidentally knocked it over and broke off three of the rays, just like this one.” Finally, I lifted my steely gaze and glared at him.