I pull in a breath through my nostrils and release it slowly. What has gotten into me that I’d abandon my self-control and sense of honor for a young woman who is off-limits? My immediate answer is lust, but that goes against every denial of self-gratification I’ve enacted since I became the representative of the Silvestri name.
Violetta has brought nothing but chaos into my life and at the worst possible time.
Usually I can eradicate that by gaining clarity, yet it’s impossible with her because she chooses to stay silent, which gives me no inkling of her thought patterns or intentions. Then add the fact she’s a liar. If she communicated truthfully and verbally, I could tame the thoughts careening through my mind, the ones wrecking havoc.
I shift my focus from inward to outward, restoring my vigilance, and then scan my surroundings. Although, that sort of thing never leaves you. I don’t literally sleep with one eye open, but I am constantly anticipating danger, in one form or another.
Except that of a young woman with the body of a temptress, eyes shrouded in mystery, and a soul with a depth only gained from the harsh realities of life.
As a person who makes predictions every single day, how did I not see her coming?
All my senses go on alert at the sight of a vehicle. It pulls onto the dirt road, coming to a stop several yards in front of us. One of Octavia’s men, who is known as Carlos, says something in Spanish and she responds before turning in the front seat to face me.
“The police are going to want money in exchange for us to continue on. I have enough cash to appease them and it shouldn’t be more than a small delay.”
I nod and then rest my hands next to the firearms located just under my blazer. Violetta’s breath quickens and her spine goes ramrod straight as she watches me. The urge to comfort her coats my tongue with affirming words, but I swallow them down. She doesn’t need that from me and most likely won’t accept it either.
Benito shifting in his seat catches my attention and a silent message passes between us when our gazes line up. The crime in this country is prevalent, and that could be an understatement. I was aware of this when I decided to travel here and I’m more than ready to do whatever’s necessary to ensure I return back to The States.
With Violetta and Benito alive.
Sacrificing them, in order to learn more about my past, is not an option. And never will be.
Carlos presses the brakes and our vehicle slows to a complete stop, leaving a few feet between us and the police officers. They’ve already exited their car and stand beside it with their weapons in hand. There are four men in all and although we outnumber them, they don’t have collateral like us.
That collateral being Violetta and Octavia.
I have no assumptions that either woman knows how to shoot a firearm, but I’m hoping Octavia does. It’d be foolish of her not to have that knowledge in my opinion. I know I’d make sure my wife—hell even a significant other—would be able to aim and fire one with ease. Danger is a part of the world we live in.
If we want to stay safe, we must be ready to protect ourselves.
Especially those under our protective authority.
Violetta
“Gentlemen,” Carlos calls out to the policemen in Spanish.
I keep my focus on him, more specifically his hands, as the officers approach. Carlos keeps them on the steering wheel instead of dropping them into his lap or to lean on the frame of the open window. It helps me not fidget in my seat as my nervousness escalates. If he takes his hands away from their current position, it could prompt one of the policemen to shoot him because they’d most likely assume Carlos is reaching for a weapon.
A gunfight is the last thing we need.
One of the strangers cautiously walks up to the driver’s side and when he’s no more than a foot away, he leans in and peers inside. His name badge reads Perez and I take an instant dislike to him. “Good evening. Where are you traveling to and where are you coming from?”
“We left the capital, sir,” Carlos says, “and we are headed to Sololá.”
Two of the officers take up positions halfway between the back door and the rear of the jeep, one on each side, enabling them to view me and Tristano. I lower my gaze as soon as the remaining man comes to stand just outside Octavia’s open window. All of them are open, and being inside the vehicle’s metal frame offers no security whatsoever, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable.
I keep my eyes downcast and thread my fingers to hide their shaking. Not only that, I squeeze my hands every time I have the urge to look over at Tristano. He’s carrying a firearm and so is Beni, but I want my own. When Carina asked Tristano for ammunition in order to rescue Rafael, she cleaned and loaded her pistol with great ease. I loved seeing that confident side of her.
At the earliest opportunity, I’m going to ask Beni to teach me as well.
“Who are your traveling companions?” Perez asks.
From my peripheral I catch him running his gaze over Octavia. She doesn’t move, or avert her eyes in deference but continues to stare straight ahead. As much as I admire her for that show of fortitude, Perez’s licentious gaze has disgust crawling along my skin, pricking it with goosebumps despite the warm weather. I doubt I’d remain stoic like her if he looked at me that way. I’d revert to my blank stare when the time came.
And I think it’s almost here…
“This is Mr. Silvestri,” Carlos says with a quick glance in Tristano’s direction. “And he’s brought along his personal security and his assistant. He’s here to discuss business with El Jefe.”
