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At least Romero holds true to his word. His footsteps echo down the hall ten minutes after I’ve left him alone. He enters my office wearing a t-shirt and gray sweats—also unusual. “We don't have any meetings today,” he explains as soon as I raise an eyebrow at his un-business-like appearance. “Plus, I was sort of in a hurry to get here. Someone was threatening to kill me.”
I lower myself into my chair and nod toward the pair of chairs across from me. “Talk to me. Make it good, because I’d hate to kill you for something small. You’re one of my best men.”
He settles in, and now I notice the dark circles under his eyes. It’s evident he didn’t get much sleep last night. I doubt he went to see a woman. Romero is strict about the woman he sleeps with and never brings anyone back to the cottage. Ever. I doubt this has to do with that.
“Like I told you, I got a lead. It came in overnight, and I didn't want to wake you. I thought I'd get everything settled before morning and bring it to you once I had it under control.”
So far, believable. “What's it about?”
“I found a certain friend of ours. I got a call from a mutual acquaintance telling me he’d be flying in and arriving before dawn.” The gleam in his eye tells me how much he looked forward to bringing me the news. “He’s currently being watched like a hawk in one of our warehouses down by the river. I went over there to ensure he was as uncomfortable as possible while waiting for you to welcome him back to the states.”
My chest tightens with anticipation. “Kristoff.”
Romero nods, “The son of a bitch thought he could sneak back into the US unnoticed. He hopped a flight on some asshole’s jet.”
“How’d you catch wind of it?”
He lifts a shoulder, reminding me how much I don’t know and how fucked I’d be if anything happened to him. “I have my connections, and I made sure to place calls to all the private hangars in the area. He couldn't stay under the radar forever. Eventually, he'd have to come back to get more money from his daddy.”
“Let me get this straight.” Leaning back in my chair, I study him, and there's no escaping the feeling that I'm looking at him through new eyes. “You went ahead and did this without clearing it with me first? What if I didn't want to take him so soon? What if I had other plans?” I’m goading him, trying to find a reason to be angry when I have none.
“He raped your daughter.”
He could have stuck a hot branding iron to my skin, and it would’ve been less painful than that reminder. “I'm aware of that. But I didn't give you the go-ahead to bring him in.”
“I thought when it came to things like this—”
“I do the thinking. Not you. I give the orders, and you follow. You don't come to me after the fact, then announce you essentially kidnapped him.” Eyeing him, I add, “Considering the blood on your shirt earlier, I'm guessing he's not in good shape.”
Romero hasn’t flinched; he’s barely blinked. Only his jaw twitch reveals he’s fighting against the impulse to argue. “He deserves death, so he should be thanking me that he’s still alive. Unfortunately, he needed a little... convincing to behave.”
“I should have been the one to do that. It's my right.”
“Something tells me you'll have the chance again. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who learns his lessons the first time.” When he reaches up to brush wet hair back from his forehead, I notice his bruised knuckles.
“I can't have you going over my head and making decisions like this. You know I trust you—”
“Trust me? You walked into my home unannounced and accused me of betraying you.”
“Says the man who left his fucking phone off all day instead of checking in with me. That's unlike you. What was I supposed to think?”
Color rises in his high cheeks as he leans forward, his lip lifting in a snarl I’ve seen before—just not while it was directed at me. “You were supposed to think that everything I fucking do is for you and your family and your business.”
“You didn't do this for me. You did it for you,” I growl.
I saw the look in his eyes when Tatum told us what the piece of shit did to her. It mirrored my own. Romero might seem like a gentleman, but beneath his mask is a bloodthirsty villain waiting to shed his good-guy image. It’s how I know he wants revenge for my Tatum, but he can’t just make choices that could jeopardize everything I’ve built.
“Or maybe I did it for her.” His eyes widen a fraction before he slams himself back in the chair. He looks downright shocked to admit such a thing. Rather than look at me, he stares out the window while his stubbled jaw tics.
