"That's why Titus had a file on you." Miquel nodded slowly, sliding his sunglasses back into place. "He was looking for his grandchild. How close he'd been." He shook his head, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I wonder if he knew."
"He didn't know. I made sure of that—" Lachlan's words were cut short as the boat lurched over a larger wave, sending a spray of saltwater across them both.
Miquel wiped his face with a handkerchief pulled from his pocket. "But why? Why would you keep him from connecting with the only family he had left? Titus would've moved heaven and earth for your child to be safe. She would've had all theprotection in the world." His tone was genuinely curious, not accusatory.
"So, I should thank him for protecting her from the target he put on her back?" Lachlan swept his hand through his wind-tousled hair. "As soon as your enemies learned that Titus had a grandchild, her life would be in constant danger. I wasn't going to let that happen."
"And that's why you hid her from us," Miquel said, nodding as if puzzle pieces were falling into place.
"No one can know about her." Lachlan's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his neck tightening.
"That's not up to you." Miquel's tone shifted, the friendly facade giving way to something harder.
"The hell it isn't." Lachlan stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides.
"If Britt wants her child, I will make sure she has her. Even if that means getting rid of you," Miquel said, a warning in his tone. He didn't move, but something in his posture changed, a subtle shift that spoke of potential violence held in check.
"Britt knows exactly how to be in her daughter's life. She doesn't need any help from you or Quattro to make that happen," Lachlan countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
The speedboat banked slightly as it rounded the northern tip of St. Cera, the engines throttling back to navigate the shallower waters.
“Britt Freeman is about to become a very powerful woman. Perhaps more powerful than her father ever was,” Miquel said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Titus had become distracted in the years after we thought Britt had died. His daughter won’t have the same constraints on her focus. She’ll lift our organization to levels we’ve never seen before.”
"What the hell are you talking about?" Lachlan's brow furrowed deeply, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Britt wants nothing to do with Quattro! She'll never take the reins from her father." The assertion hung in the air like a challenge.
Miquel turned to him. The afternoon sun cast harsh shadows across his features. "You don't know the woman you love as well as you think."
Lachlan's stomach soured at Miquel's words, the boat's gentle rocking suddenly feeling more like a nauseating pitch. Could he be wrong about Britt? Was that why she sent him away after she got her memories back? Because she remembered her position in Quattro and wanted it more than her family. More than the life she could have with him and Paloma. No, that couldn’t be right.
"She ran away from that life to be with me after she got pregnant," Lachlan insisted, his voice catching slightly. "She didn't want the danger anymore. She needed to be free of all of it." He gripped the railing again as the boat picked up speed, the wind whipping his words away almost as soon as they left his mouth.
Miquel reached a hand for Lachlan's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. The gesture seemed oddly fraternal, at odds with the threat that had come before. "Her departure from Quattro was always meant to be temporary. We didn't know why she left. But she gave Titus her word that she'd come back."
“To lead the organization.” The words tasted bitter on Lachlan's tongue.
"Whenever he needed her to, whether that was to take over or for any other reason," Miquel explained, breaking the news with unexpected gentleness. His hand fell away as he stepped back, giving Lachlan space.
"She wouldn't have done that to me. To our family," Lachlan shook his head.
"She wouldn't have to. You would've come willingly," Miquel said, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "It was clear to all of us that you're not going to live without her. Even now. Only a matter of time before you convince yourself that being in our world can work for you and Britt's child. Until then, we'll leave you alone."
Lachlan trembled with rage as the coastline of St. Felipe came into view. The towering façade of the King Family Estate dominated the shoreline, its colonial architecture and coral pink walls gleaming in the late afternoon sun like a beacon for travelers on top of the palm tree-covered rolling hills. The speedboat tracked the same path that the cartel had taken to kidnap him, the irony not lost on Lachlan as they approached the familiar shores. He was back home. But without the woman he loved. The woman he wasn't sure he ever truly knew.
Pushing the thoughts aside, Lachlan focused on his little girl. He'd missed her desperately, his heart aching with each passing hour away from her. She must be terrified with both him and Britt gone for the past couple of days. He wasn't sure how he'd explain Britt's absence. Or whether they'd all be together again.
The boat slowed as it approached a secluded cove, the engines throttling down to a purr as they navigated between jutting coral formations. Sand shifted beneath Lachlan's feet as he stepped off the boat onto the beach, water lapping at his ankles. He didn't look back as he trudged up the shore, the wet sand giving way to dry, then to the scrubby vegetation that bordered the beach.
His pace quickened as he made his way along familiar paths, passing the bullet-ridden remains of what had once been his home. A grim reminder of Quattro's reach. Each step brought him closer to the Stingray compound, to Paloma, to some semblance of normalcy.
The compound came into view, its fortified walls a stark contrast to the natural beauty surrounding it. Lachlan crossed a grassy knoll toward the front entrance.
His heart lurched at the sight that greeted him—Remi sprawled face-down on the grass near the sidewalk. Dropping to his knees beside her, he gently rolled her onto her back, panic rising in his throat.
"Remi!" His fingers pressed against her neck, relief washing over him when he detected a steady pulse. She was alive but completely out cold. Possibly drugged.
"What the hell happened here?" he muttered, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. Thoughts of his daughter flooded his mind. He bolted to his feet, ignoring the protest of his bruised body, and sprinted toward the entrance. Swiping his card, he raced inside the building and headed toward the suites.
"Paloma!" he shouted, the desperation in his voice bouncing off the walls. “Where are you, hen?”
