Nestor’s account of Victor’s plans for making a home in Mexico, with Lucky.
“Yes, I did. I couldn’t leave you behind to face up to things I’d forced you into.”
“I wouldn’t have left my family behind.”
“I know. I also know you believed I’d been the one to send your brother drugs.” Victor captured Lucky’s attention with a serious gaze. “I’d never have hurt you or your family. As I said, I cared for you, you were so much more than my protégé. You were also one of the few people who never wanted anything from me but me.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I merely want to say I’m sorry for what I led you into, how proud I am of the man you’ve become and the life you’ve built for yourself. Walter Smith is a much better mentor than I could ever hope to be.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’d still like you to join me in a professional capacity.”
Lucky didn’t waste a moment before answering, “My life is here.”
“I know that. Just like mine is where I am. I used to regret keeping you with me when I really should have let you go, but you weren’t some silly dreamer who wanted hearts and flowers and happily ever after. And you weren’t after my money. What you needed I couldn’t give you.”
What the hell was Lucky supposed to say? “Victor, I…”
“Shh… No need to say anything. We were meant to be in each other’s lives for only a little while. I learned much from you, and I’d like to think you learned from me, and that our time together wasn’t all bad.”
Lucky recalled a house in Florida, Victor opening the windows to let in the fragrance of orange blossoms because Lucky liked the smell. Of paying for his brothers’ education, helping out Lucky’s parents financially, and buying Charlotte a house so she could escape an abusive ex-husband.
Most recently, paying for his father’s liver transplant.
“No, it wasn’t all bad,” Lucky admitted.
“All the same, guilt ate at me that I couldn’t give you the love you deserved.”
Nestor. The way Victor lit up when Nestor visited, how he’d valued a portrait of his mother, more for the artist than the subject. The evidence Lucky had found after overnight trips that Victor hadn’t spent the time alone. “Your heart belonged to someone else.”
Victor’s smile turned bittersweet. “As it still does. As yours does to the lovely man I met a short while ago.”
No question there. “Yes.”
“I’m glad you found happiness. You deserve it. After you turned down Nestor’s job offer, I swore I’d leave you alone. Watch over you, yes, but not interfere with your life. I hadn’t expected for us to come face to face again.” Victor smoothed a finger over the rim of his coffee cup. “We’d been investigating Forsyth for several months when Walter Smith called, said you were being followed.”
Walter? “Walter called you?” Why didn’t he say so?
“I’d told him to call me if ever you were in danger.” Victor closed his eyes for a moment. “At this point I’d like to apologize for what my worthless nephew did to you and your partner. Unfortunately, he had to be given enough rope to hang himself, which he did. Well, not literally.” He opened his eyes and flinched. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. No offense.”
“None taken.” May Stephan rot in hell for forcing addiction on Bo.
“Anyway, when you connected the dots between your own case and Forsyth, I sent Cruz to investigate. You made things difficult for the perpetrators of this crime.”
“How so?”
Victor chuckled. “Surely you know of your bastard reputation with most of the agents.”
Oh. That. “Yeah, I do.”
Victor dropped the friendly persona and became the calculating businessman Lucky remembered from their first meeting. “They believed you would have found something on Chastain during your audit to aid their case in shutting down operations.”
“Instead I filed a report showing nothing wrong.” Even doing his best Lucky hadn’t uncovered one single violation.
“Correct. They fabricated something, but you were too damned stubborn to let things die. They’d been keeping an eye on you for weeks, hoping to find something, anything to work with. You deprived them.”
“Why attack Walter?”
Victor blinked, head cocked to the side. “Why? Because he believed you, of course, and intended to launch an official investigation once he’d accumulated enough corroborating evidence.”
