Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

“I see you’re fully recovered, sir,” Alejandro called cheerfully from somewhere far too near.

I shot into a sitting position so quickly, I almost tumbled back into the grass.

Alejo sauntered toward us, not bothering to hide his grin.

Cristiano fixed my shorts and patted my hips to get me to climb off him. “What are you doing back? You’re supposed to be in the south.”

After our meal with Alejandro, Pilar, and Tasha—which had turned into dinner for one when Cristiano had decided to eat out instead—Alejandro had assembled a team and taken them on an attempt to recover Max . . . against my advice. They’d loaded Tasha in a car to return her to wherever she’d come from, and according to Cristiano, they hadn’t had much to report since.

In this case, I worried no news wasn’t good news. But by the spring in Alejandro’s step, it looked as if I was wrong.

“Did you locate Max?” I asked as I stood, brushing grass off my legs.

“Afraid not. Believe me, Cristiano will be the first to know when we do.”

When Cristiano moved me in front of him, I didn’t have to ask why—the reason pressed into my backside. “You have that look,” Cristiano said.

“Which one?” Alejandro asked.

Like a cat who’d caught the canary. I noticed it, too. “You know something,” I said.

“I know two things. First, Max’s trail went cold again, but we’re extremely close to securing a rat within Belmonte-Ruiz.”

“Someone’s willing to help?” I asked.

“Willing? No. But he agreed when I presented him with an alternative that didn’t end well for his family in the States. Now, we put on the pressure until he caves, then wait for the right time to pounce.”

“Then why aren’t you closing the deal?” Cristiano asked.

“I don’t need to be there for that.” He widened his stance and crossed his fists under his arms. “I wanted to deliver this next part in person—we were successful in a different mission.” He winked, and, in a very odd turn of events, he hooted. Like an owl.

Cristiano’s hands tightened on my shoulders. “¿El Búho?”

“Sí, patrón. When we took Tasha back to the city, we got more information from her family. Since we’ve been waiting around a lot while trying to track down Max, we decided to put that intel to good use.”

“Fuck,” Cristiano said, but there was no anger behind his curse. If anything, he sounded pleased. “You know where the Valverdes are, don’t you?”

“The Valverdes?” I asked, the apellido a faint echo in the back of my mind. “Why do I know that name?”

Alejandro nodded, and if he’d looked smug earlier, now he looked downright prideful. “They’re closer than you think, boss.”

“Not in the south?”

“Not anymore.”

Cristiano stiffened behind me. “Don’t fuck with me, Alejandro.”

I glanced back, twisting to look up at Cristiano. “Are they what you left to find?”

“Sí, mi corazón,” he said, but his attention stayed on Alejandro. “Where are they?”

Alejandro tipped his chin forward. “Downstairs.”

I touched the neckline of my tank top. Downstairs? The only downstairs I’d seen was the panic room and storage space, and at the opposite end of the house, the subterranean dining room where the party had been held my first night. “Are they eating?” I asked.

Cristiano laughed, and Alejandro joined in before responding, “No. They may not even have a meal left.”

Cristiano’s chest pressed against my back. “How’d you pull this off?”

“You’ve had some bad luck, and it has distracted you,” Alejandro said. “We thought you needed a win after the past few weeks.”

Cristiano slid his hands to rest in the curves of my neck, his fingers stretching over my collarbone. “How many?”

“Four. Once we located the head, the others weren’t far behind.”

“Four?” he asked and released a string of awed curses. “I hoped for one at best.”

“One person?” I asked.

“We’ll resume our lesson later.” Cristiano pressed a kiss to the back of my head and moved his mouth to my ear. “Don’t count on me forgetting the position you got me in.”

Every day brought more questions, but I was lucky to make it through with even one answer. Who were these people Cristiano had seemingly chased to the ends of the Earth? And what did that family have to do with mine?

“Wait.” I turned to face him, grabbing the front of his t-shirt before he could walk away.

He arched an eyebrow at my fist in his shirt, then raised his eyes to me. “Yes?”

“Who are the Valverdes? Why do you need them?”

“I’ll tell you everything, but not now.” He wiped sweat from his lip and glanced over his shoulder. “First, I need to see what we’re dealing with.”

I released his shirt and let him walk away. Even though I believed he’d fill me in later, it was still a no that transported me back to my first days in the Badlands. I didn’t want to return to the moments when my imagination had been left to its own devices, spinning out of control, conjuring up terrible—and ultimately false—theories.