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“Maybe he didn’t, Sierra, or perhaps he knew you well enough to realize you’d keep his things. That I can’t answer.”
Her sudden smile surprised me, but I could tell she was trying to find a rational reason for why the events had shifted to violence. “That means he wanted the one link that was left to him erased.”
“I won’t lie to you. That’s what I believe.”
Without saying anything else, she headed toward the door. I watched her walk away, wanting nothing more than to gather her into my arms.
But I wasn’t that kind of man.
She stopped before leaving the room, barely turning her head. “He hurt me.”
“I know, baby, and for that he’ll pay dearly.”
For that alone he’d suffer until he begged me to die. But he wouldn’t be allowed the freedom of choice. He’d learn with exact precision what it meant to go against the firstborn son of Cauldron Montenegro.
As well as the woman the king of the empire loved.
* * *
“I suggest you get off your ass and find out what the fuck happened.” I ended the call, immediately cursing under my breath. Both Cruz and Edwardo remained silent, nursing whiskeys while I was verbally abusing another useless detective who owed the family a tremendous favor. I’d called in more than one during the last four hours.
The girl’s throat had been slit using enough force and rage she was almost decapitated. That wasn’t something I wanted Sierra to hear.
“Fuck.” Wakefield Acres. The Irish frequented the club, using the establishment as their location of choice for wining and dining politicians and wealthy moguls. They’d centered a portion of their business in the location using it as a bridge to other southern cities while the Montenegro Empire mostly remained north of the Mason-Dixon line. That had been my father’s choice, not mine. Perhaps it was time for a change.
“So, she was murdered?” Cruz asked.
“Brutally,” I answered, tossing the phone then walking toward the bar, pouring the tumbler full of the same liquor. I wasn’t in the mood for an argument or bullshit recommendations from either man. After throwing back the glass, consuming almost half of the contents, I paced the floor, trying to figure out why the hell Tristen would attempt to kill his former fiancée.
Clarice looked enough like Sierra they could be sisters. And I doubted it was a random burglar who’d broken inside Sierra’s house, finding Clarice and killing her. The murder had been calculated. I’d spent the rest of the night going over what I knew, and one thing continued to pop up in my mind, something I hadn’t explored or even considered up until now.
There was a chance Tristen had been working undercover the entire time he’d worked for me. If that was the case, his background would have been expunged, replaced with one that I wouldn’t have thought twice about.
I had to get my hands on the book, if he hadn’t already located it. The odds weren’t in my favor. I’d dispatched Butch and Sam to retrieve it, but their flight wouldn’t land for a couple hours, and they had to make certain the investigation into the murder wasn’t still ongoing.
“This is a bad idea,” Edwardo said under his breath.
He had no idea about the girl’s murder at this point, but my illustrious attorney didn’t care. His only concern was to chastise me for decisions I’d made. That would stop now.
“This is unexpected, but I’ll handle it.” I could tell my answer pissed him off.
While most people would find it impossible to believe Tristen would return from the dead in order to kill the woman he’d professed to love, I knew better. If he believed his fake life to be threatened, he’d come out swinging, eliminating every possibility for collateral damage without questioning why or caring about his old life.
The message sent through Joseph had struck a chord, shoving the man into a corner. Was it possible someone else was breathing down his neck? I needed the goddamn book Sierra had mentioned in order to determine if I was right about my curious assumptions. Whatever the case, Tristen had been or was a turncoat and always would be.
When I turned around to face them, Edwardo shook his head.
“What do you need to say to me, Edwardo? You’re like a dog stuck on a chain, staring at a thick, juicy bone placed just out of his reach,” I snarled, my temper already flaring.
“This isn’t the time for making jokes, Alessandro,” he retorted.
“Who said I’m joking?”
He stared at me for a few seconds. “Unbelievable. What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to hunt down a very large rat. What do you think?” I shifted my attention to Cruz, who seemed amused by the exchange.
“You’re acting ridiculous, Alessandro. You’ve been harboring this need for revenge when it’s been proven to you that Tristen Bradford is rotting in his grave. Then you act on some pretty damn sick fantasy by contacting the dead man’s fiancée. Now, I find out not only did you kidnap her, but you’re planning on marrying her. Do you know how twisted that is? Even for you. My God. You’re getting more like your father every damn day and I had hopes you’d be different after taking the throne. Stop being impetuous. It’s going to get you killed.”
