Valerie
“What’s Theo’s progress?” Seeing Carlyle in such complete control was beyond reassuring, beyond words themselves. He owned everything and everyone, and he made sure they knew he wasn’t someone to mess with. Trailing behind him, I couldn’t take my eyes off the determined set of his shoulders and straight set of his spine. He spoke with authority. He walked, and people scurried out of the way. His every pore exudedpower.
There had been signs and hints, but the man I’d known until now was considerably tempered down.
“He’s halfway done. Also, Jerry’s on his way back to help Greg, and Hano believes he’s close.” There were no specifics, but Carlyle knew exactly what was going on even though he sat with me all night.Well, early morning into noon.He didn’t stop walking to listen, and his long strides forced his brother to work to keep up with him. “We have five hours until the Network activates, but Theo’s confident he’ll find the rest long before then.”
“Tell Hano he’s carpooling, and we’re not waiting on him.” Pushing open a pair of glass doors, Carlyle didn’t miss a beat, and I barely noticed Oran holding one open for me before slipping off back down the hall. “Pedro! My man, when I call, I expect you to jump. I’m not known for my patience.”
“I wasjumping.” Pedro Gonzalez was shorter than me, distinctly Mexican features scrunching up in disgust, and he stood up from his seat to sneer noticeably. “I didn’t call back immediately be—”
Holding up a hand to silence Pedro’s really, honestly, good English, Carlyle gestured to the chair wordlessly. Slowly, the drug lord sat down, and Carlyle pulled a seat out for me before dropping himself to prop his feet on the table. This was all an act, I realized . . . well, maybe not all of it. Maybe, this was just how Carlyle wanted Pedro to see him.
“I don’t give a shit, honestly. Here’s the deal. Tonight at five p.m., I’m going to issue a bounty for every single Baron Ninety-Nine member in Dallas. I had called youlast nightto let you know so you could pull your people, but, you know, whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. Obviously, you don’t appreciate the favor. I’ve instructed the Network to hunt down all of them. You and I have a deal, which I honored, but whatI do notappreciate is being ignored.” Pedro was quiet, narrowed eyes firmly on Carlyle but staring him down, and I glanced between the two. “I lost faith in you when you fucked up that job in Nevada. So to regain a smidgen of trust in which to build a future relationship, I want something of yours.”
“What would that be?” Carlyle smacked the top of the table, a malicious grin puffing out his cheeks at the question, and Pedro tensed.
“Good of you to ask, my friend. See, someone made a bomb and sent it to my girl, here.” Pedro’s breath hitched, eyes widening as they flew to me, and a sense of surrealism overwhelmed me when I gazed back. This guy had tortured and killed people, whole towns. He was responsible for death every single day, but he was afraid of Carlyle. “According to my forensics team, it came from one of your bomb makers. A man by the name of Julio Montoya. He uses these incredibly distinct pink blast caps, which I’m sure you’re aware of. This puts me in a situation, see. Either you knew about him doing side work, or you didn’t know. Neither of those are good things, Pedro.”
“If you’re gonna kill me, just do it.” I was watching a scene in a movie— it was just so insanely casual, and Pedro jutted out his weak chin.
“Why would I do that? You can’t repay me if you’re dead. And make no mistake, Pedro . . . you’re going to pay quite a lot.” Carlyle wastoyingwith Pedro, and his words from what seemed like so long ago floated up in my head to blare in my ears.There’s a beauty to being refined and keeping a cap on violence. Pedro’s got a lot more to worry about than just Carlyle. Whole governments are after him.“So, my proposal is this.”
Standing up leisurely, Carlyle walked around the medium-sized table, pulling a knife out of his jacket pocket. The difference between them was startling now that they were side by side. Carlyle wore a nice suit, nicely styled hair, and no facial hair. Pedro lookedexactlylike one of those guys who’d be behind Home Depot— not that there was nothing wrong with those guys, but . . .
Of course, there was a safety to dressing the part, so if Pedro wanted to blend in, that’d be the way to do it.
“You can do two of three things here, Pedro. Pay your debt to my girl. She had a bomb blow up in her face, after all. Give me all your shit stockpiled in the States. Or slit your own throat. I’ll let you pick.” Flicking open the knife, Carlyle set it in front of Pedro on the table before sauntering back to his seat. He shot me a wink, the only break in his character yet, and my lip twitched up as heat slithered up my neck.
Maybe, I sustained some head trauma or something, and that’s why I feel so . . . detached.
This had nothing to do with me, but it had everything to do with me. It was a strange feeling, like being in the center of a hurricane.
“I’ll pay.” Just as the gruff reply came, Oran opened the doors, and I frowned under furrowed brows. Everything that happened was so smooth, it was almost choreographed. Seamlessly, events just ran together, and Carlyle was at the height of it all. Handing me a portfolio folder, he adjusted his glasses before turning around and leaving, and I cast a questioning gave at Carlyle.
“Pick one— or three— or all of them. However, many you feel will make up for the fact that your apartment was destroyed.” Rolling my lips between my teeth, I popped open the laminated front, and my brows rose in surprise.
“Are these houses?” The photos on the first page weregorgeous, and I flipped through briefly as Carlyle nodded out of the corner of my eye. “Why would I need a house in Chile?”
“Why not?” That was definitely not a helpful answer, and I scrunched up my nose when Carlyle shook his head. “Take some time. It’s not like Pedro here will be busy in the coming weeks. Isn’t that right, Pedro?”
“That’s right.” Grinding the words out through his teeth, Pedro nodded curtly, and he stood up slowly to tuck his chair in. “I’ll get things moving for you as soon as I get back to Mexico.”
“See, I would trust your word, but . . . I don’t. So, I’ve already gone ahead and sent a few teams to collect. Have a safe flight back.” Pedro walked out of the small conference room, leaving me in stunned silence and satisfaction dripping from Carlyle’s every pore. Closing the portfolio, I propped my elbows on the table to hold my face and stare at him, and he wore the smuggest, most amused smirk I’d ever seen. He held his head in laced fingers, leaning back in his chair, and I waited for him to say something because I wasspeechless.
“I’ve been searching for a reason to put Pedro in his place. Unlike him, I prefer to have something to back up my claims. By the way . . . ” Standing up to sit on the edge of the table, Carlyle crossed his knees and reached to tap the stuffed folder. “Think carefully. Some of these properties are difficult to get to, like the one in Chile.”
“I don’t even know what I would do with something like this, Carlyle.”
“It doesn’t matter what you do with it. I thought about it last night . . . why should you not have your apartment because Pedro’s an incompetent idiot, but he has all these, and he never even uses most of them?” Rolling my jaw against my palms at that, I didn’t refute the point even though it was moot. “Trust me. He’ll recoup quickly. Regardless, why don’t we get lunch? I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“What about Natasha? What do I tell her?” A troubled crease marred between his brows, and Carlyle shrugged carelessly.
“Tell her whatever you want, Valerie. She’s your sister. I’m not going to get between you two. I doubt she’ll take it as well as you, but the point of all this with Pedro, it doesn’t even scratch the surface. I brought him here as some convoluted way to ease you into what comes next.” Puffing out my lips, I frowned as sourness coated my tongue, and Carlyle brushed my bottom lip with his thumb. His expression turned tender, and he smiled a little before continuing. “I won’t stop either of you from doing what you want with your lives. On paper, you’re an indie game development company that contracted my marketing firm. Right now, right here, it’s a different story.”
I only nodded before standing up, and Carlyle didn’t try to continue the conversation as he scooted off the table.I guess . . . there’s no point in keeping secrets from Natasha now. Not after twenty-five years together.
