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I study him as he steeples his fingers, gaze unwavering, the half-skull tattoo as if showcasing the darker, dangerous side of this husband and father. We have that in common, though. I have killed to keep my family safe. He has done the same.
“What is your business with my brother?” I ask outright, deciding straightforward is the way to go with this man.
He grins. He was expecting this. Probably anticipating my visit.
“My business with Ezekiel is my business with Ezekiel. Just as my business with you is my business with you.”
“I thought you might say that, but I’m here because I have a feeling that business overlaps.”
“As brothers that may always be the case.” His gaze doesn’t waver.
Mine doesn’t either. “Carlton Bishop made a comment that has piqued my curiosity.”
“Did he?”
“Well, not so much the comment itself as the way he looked at my brother when he said what he said. It’s similar to how you looked at him during our meeting at the compound. When you mentioned my father’s accident.”
“Hmm.”
“Except that Bishop went a little farther to give the impression that his death and my sister’s death were somehow related.”
Santiago leans back in his seat, and it takes him a moment to answer. I can tell he’s trying to decide something in that moment. “They died years apart.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He glances down, forehead furrowing, jaw tightening. He looks at me again, leans his elbows on the desk. “Leave it, Jericho,” he says, tone different.
My jaw tenses, my throat tightening. “Leave what?”
“I won’t tell you my business with your brother.”
“And yet clearly that business has something to do with me.”
“But I will give you some advice,” he adds, ignoring me.
“It’s not advice I want. It’s the truth.”
“I don’t believe Ezekiel has lied to you.”
“He hasn’t told me the whole truth though, has he?”
Santiago stands up, walks to the window, and pushes the curtain aside to look out. Over his shoulder I can see his family outside. Ivy pushing the little girl in a swing while the baby sleeps in the stroller at her side.
He turns back to me. “I’m going to give you that advice anyway. Leave it alone. It has nothing to do with Carlton Bishop. With what he did to you or to the mother of your child. If it did, I would tell you.”
“Are they related?” I start, I don’t know why because something is telling me to heed his advice. To leave it alone. Let the dead lie. “My sister’s death.” Her suicide. I can’t quite bring myself to say the word though. “My father’s.”
He doesn’t answer me. Just studies me for a very long time. Too long. “Your brother is not your enemy. That’s all I can tell you. Now, if you don’t mind, I made my daughter a promise and I don’t break promises.”
I get to my feet his words cutting in a way I know he had no intention to cut. I think about Angelique. About her falling asleep on the floor while waiting for me to keep my promise. I have to shove that image aside though. So, I remind myself of Isabelle’s words telling me to fix it, to choose. I choose my family. This is all about my family. Always has been.
But I’ve been focused on Angelique, on Kimberly’s murder, on vengeance for so long that I’ve neglected the rest of the family. Has my brother come to terms with his twin’s suicide? What kind of life has he lived all these years?
“Will you be at the auction?” Santiago asks me, bringing me back to the present.
The auction. It’s set to take place in a few weeks at IVI. I have my eye on something that will be auctioned off. “Yes,” I tell him.
“You’ll bring your wife?”
