Page 70 of No Darker Temptation

“Karina doesn’t know anything, please, don’t tell her. As soon as he left, I told her I felt sick and we came straight here.”

“Did Sandro see her? Does he know what Karina looks like? That you two were together?”

“I don’t know…”

“Was he alone? Were there people with him?”

“I don’t know!”

“This is important, Dee. Try to think,” Diego coaxes gently. “What else happened when he cornered you?”

“I told him to go fuck himself and that if he ever touched me again he was going to wish Alejandro was the one to kick his ass instead.” She sniffles and drags her palm across her cheek.

Diego appears impressed but all I can see is red.

I get to my feet. “I’ll be back.”

Dahlia is momentarily distracted from her grief and turns to me. “What? Where are you going?”

“Take them home,” I tell Diego. “And don’t let them leave.”

BAD BLOOD

Alejandro

The last time I was in this part of the city was over a decade ago. During an altercation with Sandro, I ended up with a knife buried three inches deep in my ribcage and Sandro with a broken hand that never regained full mobility.

The Sandoval headquarters is down by the water, toward the very end of La Rambla, where the avenue gives way to the Columbus Monument. I barrel through the front doors and push past the security guards in the lobby, reaching the elevators before they can grab hold of me. At the front desk, a woman is furiously hitting buttons on the phone, knuckles turning white as she grips the receiver.

When she sees me, she jumps out of her seat. “Excuse me, sir, you can’t⁠—”

A single look in her direction silences her.

In typical Sandro fashion, he chose the most obnoxious cover for his family business; an investment firm which launders millions of dollars in narcotics he then smuggles to North Africa for a mind-shattering profit.

When we were younger, our fathers were closer than brothers. My father died before I ever found out what caused the great schism between them but I’m able to walk through the office with confidence and familiarity, knowing that around this bend and beyond a set of double doors is Sandro’s office. The internal map in my head is the only thing I can see beyond the red haze clouding the edges of my vision.

A series of steel and glass sliding partitions break up the open space with halls on either side of the floor leading to private corner offices, cubicles occupying the middle, and conference rooms lining the back wall where all the windows are. One of the glass partitions slides open and half a dozen people file through, having just finished a meeting. Sandro is the last one to filter out, head bowed, brows furrowed, as his sister whispers intensely. His face is expressionless while Regina looks tense, her jaw tight, and hands gripping the folders in her hand until the knuckles turn white.

She’s the first one to lift her head and see me. On an exhale, she says my name.

“Alejandro.”

Sandro finally lifts his head. He smiles. “This has to be a record. I expected at least another hour would pass before⁠—”

I’m across the room in three long strides, lightning fast, the blood roaring in my veins.

I grab him by the back of the neck and send him through the glass partition.

A chorus of cries and gasps erupts as I step into the conference room and grab one of the chairs. Sandro goes sliding across the table and lands on the floor near the window. Before he’s able to get to his feet, I draw my arm backward and swing, the chair colliding with his shoulder and the side of his face before eventually slipping from my grasp. It goes flying toward the now shattered partition and Regina yelps, ducking out of the way at the last minute.

Sandro spits up a mouthful of blood on the carpet, cradling his head with one hand and using the other to keep him upright.

“Get up,” I say quietly enough that only he can hear.

Sandro limps away from me, still trying to catch his breath. I grab the edge of the table and in my attempt to push it out of the way, it flips onto its side and crashes against the floor to ceiling windows.

“I’ll kill you on your hands and knees right now, I don’t give a shit,” I tell him. “Get. Up!”