Would my father want me to look the other way at my brother being killed?
Would my mother be proud of me for not defending my own flesh and blood?
I stood and didn’t look at Maksim as I turned toward the shower. I couldn’t face him when he’d see those questions in my eyes. I didn’t want him to sympathize with me about the conflict in my heart.
He didn’t press me for anything else, retreating out of the bathroom and letting me have my space.
Under the hot spray of the shower, I tried to reclaim a logical sense of calm. ThatIwasn’t doing anything wrong. ThatIwasn’t at fault here. If Arturo was due to be killed for his decisions, that was on him. Not me. Not anyone else.
But I haven’t been there to guide him. I haven’t been home to lead him away from wanting to listen to Yusef or anyone else. Without me there as a voice of reason…
I frowned as I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself.
No. This isn’t my fault. And I refuse to regret being here. I can’t deny the goodness I’ve found here.
I was happy here, in love with my husband, proud to have a role as a smuggling strategist, and excited to look forward to a baby. Those things could not compete with the guilt of not being there for my brother.
“It’s not as though he’d ever listen to me, anyway,” I muttered, thinking back to what Enrique said before he died.
Sitting down in the same chair again, I grabbed my phone and called him.
I dialed the number for my brother for the first time since I’d left the villa on the Cartel compound.
I hadn’t been there. He hadn’t wanted me there. And he likely wouldn’t ever listen to me.
But I had to try. I owed it to my family—to Maksim and our child—to investigate what he was scheming, what threat he posed.
To my surprise, he answered the video call. The screen flashed to show him, the cloudless blue sky stretching behind him as far as the eye could see.
“Well, well, well,” he mocked, smirking at me. He seemed to be walking, the view shifting as though he was in motion. “Look who it is. My sister. The mother to be.”
“You saw that picture off my cloud, huh?” I replied.
Screw the standard of formal greetings. We’d never been the kind of siblings to bother with those.
He sneered. “Have you called to collect my good wishes? My congratulations?”
“No. I’m calling to understand what the hell you are trying to do.” I stood, no longer able to sit still. Merely hearing his sarcastic, bitter voice made me so angry. “Whatever nonsensical plan you are up to, it can’t end well, Arturo. It won’t.”
He laughed, shaking his head like I was silly. “Same old, same old. You’ll never change. All you ever want to do is nag and scold,likeyouknow what the fuck you’re talking about.” Lowering his sunglasses to squint at me, he smirked. “You don’t nag your husband, do you? I can’t see Maksim Volkov ever having the patience to put up with your shit.”
“Arturo. Don’t be like this.” I wouldn’t beg, but I could say what I had to, and maybe that would give me enough peace to live with myself in the downfall of the Cartel. “Rely on Jorge. Or Emilio. Pablo,” I said, offering the names of some of the upper lieutenants in the Cartel, ones my father trusted greatly when he was alive. “Listen to what they say.”
“Oh, so you’re finally getting the point that I won’t listen toyou?” he taunted. “Because I won’t. I never have. Because you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I was so over those lines of argument that it didn’t faze me. “Then listen to them. Listen tosomeonewho cares about?—”
“I have,” he snapped. “I have been listening to the counsel that I’ve needed since our father died.”
My stomach tensed. “No. For the love of God, Arturo. No.”
“I’ve already been in contact with a man who can provide me with greater benefits than anything Father ever could have dreamed of.”
“Arturo, you can’t trust?—”
“Donottell me who to trust! You know nothing. I have already been in talks with someone who will allow me to better the Cartel. I’ve already established who can be my intermediaries. And if there’s any concern about this new direction, then I’ll just figure out how to play both sides.” He grinned, showing me how deeply he believed he could pull something like this off. Thathe could be some mastermind of Mafia and Cartel politics and come out on top.
“Arturo, you can’t?—”
