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“Her ex was the guy who washed up on the beach last week.”
Woah. I never expected to hear that. Also, Miss Gwen St. James didn’t exactly look like she was grieving. Or maybe propositioning me for sex was her way of doing it.
“His name is Gage Miller. I did a check on him; he is one twisted motherfucker. It looks like he scammed his last scam. Gwen was questioned by the cops because she was his girlfriend. This report states she hadn’t seen him in close to a year, but as the cops have nothing, they’re keeping their eye on her and a few others.”
“Meaning we have to be extra careful,” I fill in.
“Exactly. Whatever we do next, we have to tread softly. I would prefer if we continued to keep up the appearance of being here on vacation.”
“Believe me, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Alright.” He stands. “I’m going to get food. I’ll be back in an hour, then we’ll work.”
“Sure thing.”
He leaves. When the front door clicks shut, I gaze out through the sliding glass doors at the bright blue sea before me, allowing my thoughts to process and reconfigure my plans.
Failure is not an option for me.
I’ve come too far to entertain the possibility of such a thing.
I won’t do it now that I know the most crippling way to punish my enemies the same way they did to me.
That attack that put me down like a dog was the criminal underworld crossing over into the vanilla life when I saw something, or rather someone, doing business I shouldn’t have seen.
Coincidence was at work when I happened to run into Barabbas Jones, a black-market dealer, in a coffee shop in Uzbekistan. But nobody simply runs into a man like Barabbas Jones, who usually stays off the grid. When he saw me, he knew who I was straightaway, then he all but fled the scene.
He didn’t recognize me for being a member of the US Navy.
He recognized me as a Volkova, the men in the Knights, one of the most powerful secret societies on earth who run their own Bratva Brotherhood—the Komarovski.
Barabbas Jones works with the Camorra, who are known enemies to most, including our family and anyone in the Bratva. So, the motherfucker knew I would investigate his presence, as he wasn’t supposed to have allies in Uzbekistan.
That’s exactly what I did, but I didn’t get very far.
The attack happened two days later. Jim, who had no idea I was investigating Barabbas, lost his life, then they took me captive for two weeks shy of a year.
All that time, I never had a clue who my captors were, but I knew my captivity had something to do with seeing Barabbas. Someone didn’t want me investigating the way only a Knight could, or drawing attention to whatever it was he was up to.
For the last six years, I’ve tried to track him, hoping to discover who took me. That breakthrough came last week when I intercepted his phone call to Diego.
On that call, I learned what happened to me as Diego assured him that his father’s passing wouldn’t affect their alliance. He assured him that everything would stand the same way it did when his father removed me as a threat six years ago.
That’s how I found out Manolo was responsible for the attack.
I hold Diego equally responsible, but death is too good for him. So is life.
The Navarros have one of the biggest cartels in Mexico, but their greatest asset is their pharmaceutical company based in L.A.
Weeks before Manolo’s death, they got FDA approval for a pain-reliever drug they’ve been using to create a new street drug on the underground the wealthy are paying millions for.
I’m not going to allow him to get the cartel and the billion-dollar pharmaceutical company, becauseIwant it.
Taking the Navarro empire and adding it to my own in the Bratva alliance is the only thing that feels like justice to me for what Manolo Navarro did.
Conquering their empire is also the only thing that will make them all truly suffer.
But the only way for me to take it all is if I marry Santiago Navarro’s daughter.
