Violent Ends (White Monarch 2) - Page 107

Natalia had called for help, and I was more than happy to answer. My mind was already running through the ways I could make Manu pay. I tried my best to keep the growl out of my voice so as not to scare Natalia. Although, I’d quite enjoyed watching the evolution of her responses to my attempts to instill fear.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do with him, Natalia. The fiancé.”

As she spoke, I listened with all the attention I had. It wasn’t always easy, pretending she was nothing to me, but it was necessary. Even amongst my own townspeople. Natalia had taken it in stride the day we’d arrived at the Badlands, or perhaps she’d just been relieved I’d kept my distance. She was in enough danger as my wife—even the slightest suspicion that she meant anything to me put her even more in the line of fire.

Although, there was a flip side to that. Perhaps the best way to go about this marriage would be to show everyone just exactly how prized my new wife was. And let them even think about coming for her.

I preferred to stay on the phone with Natalia, but once the conversation turned to the past, a phone call wasn’t the way to go. I ended our call and glanced out over the balcony as I sipped my liquor, welcoming the burn down my throat. With Natalia around, I’d been thinking more and more of the life I’d had before all of this. Of my time at Costa’s, of my parents and brother . . . of others I’d been unable to help. Of things I would go back and change if I could.

Things I should’ve prevented at all costs.

At a noise, I spun around. A small, white-haired woman looked over the balcony with her back to me. I glanced at the door, where Daniel still stood.

“Oye. How’d you get out here?”

She turned slowly, her black, beaded dress trickling like a waterfall. She had more pink lipstick on her teeth and on the mouthpiece of a long cigarette holder than she did on her lips. “What a handsome man,” she said, her watchful eyes resting on me, “a beauty rivaled only by her.”

Her? Who did she mean? It didn’t matter. She’d listened to a private conversation between my wife and me. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on a man that way?”

“So toss me over. Isn’t that what the cartels do?” She shrugged a thin shoulder and leaned against the balcony wall. “Nobody will see, and if they do, they won’t challenge you over an old, faceless woman.”

Whatever she’d meant by bringing up cartels, I didn’t care for it. With an uneasy feeling, I said, “Leave.”

“I’m not finished with my cigarette, my friend.”

“Friend? You don’t even know who I am—if you did, you’d do as I say.”

“Ah, yes. You are well-known for your treatment of women.” She sucked on the cigarette holder and set a frail elbow on the edge of the wall. “Despite the rumors and your cold demeanor, I can’t help but think I’d be safer with you than anyone else at this party.”

I took a step toward her, completely aware of how menacing it would seem. “Who are you?”

“You were wrong just now, my friend—I do know who you are,” she said. “And what you want, who you love, and who you seek.”

My jaw tingled, and not from the drink. I set the glass on the wall. “Then tell me how to find it.”

“You’re closer than you think.”

“That’s vague.” I went to take a cigarette from my jacket, but I’d left the pack in the car. When I glanced up, the woman held one out to me. Cautiously, I stepped closer to accept it.

“Don’t give up.” She flicked a lighter open. The stacked, mixed metal rings on her fingers clinked as she cupped her hand around the flame for me. I had to bend considerably to reach her. Wrinkles deepened her leathery skin as she peered at me. “And when death strikes, don’t fall down.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“And know when to back down. You don’t always need to fight—”

“I will always fight.”

“Brains beat brawn, señor. You have both. But there’s a time to throw a punch and a time to be patient. And calculating.”

I tipped my head back and blew smoke at the sky. This cigarette was not an indulgence, but an attempt to ease my frustration, all the dead ends and false starts—and this cryptic old woman wasn’t helping. “Give me something I can use,” I said. “Is there someone here tonight who can help me?”

“You’ve spent a long time leading others. Someone here can lead you—if you let them.”

“You,” I deduced.

She grinned. “I’m just an old lady with a bad back.”

“Tell me then. Without details, nothing you’ve said means anything to me.”

Tags: Jessica Hawkins White Monarch Romance
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