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‘Son,’ Emilio said sharply. Dornan raised his eyes from the bullet to meet his father’s gaze – cold, almost reptilian. He’d always been terrified of the man. Dornan Ross loved his mother, but love was not an emotion he’d ever associated with the man who gave him life.
‘Has she said or done anything to make you believe she could be involved with Agent Murphy’s disappearance? Think, son. Cast your mind back. It’s been a long time since that girl made her way to us. And Christopher always had a certain obsession with our Mariana, didn’t he?’
Dornan nodded. ‘Yeah. You could say that.’
Emilio brushed his palms off. ‘Think. And think some more. You can love somebody and still find the weak spots in their armour. You understand?’
‘Yeah.’
Emilio slammed his open palm on the table, making Dornan blink. ‘You’re not getting it, boy.’ It was funny being called a boy at forty-odd years of age, but damn if it didn’t make him feel like he was seven again.
‘I’m not asking you if you want her to be a part of this. I know you don’t. I don’t, either. Because if your little girlfriend is in on this – if she’s planning something with my fucking money – I go to prison.’ He pointed at himself, jabbing a finger into his own chest as his face flushed with anger. ‘You go to prison,’ a jab at the air in front of Dornan, ‘and the house of cards burns to the ground. You’ll last a day in prison before Sinaloa, or Medellin, or hell, the fucking FBI kill you to shut you up. Think of your sons. Think of your club. Do not think of her and how well she sucks your cock. Am. I. Clear.’
Dornan nodded. ‘Crystal.’
‘Right,’ Emilio said, apparently satisfied. ‘Let me ask you again. Do you think there is any chance Mariana is in on Murphy’s disappearance? Do you think she’s been talking to the FBI behind our backs? I will not act until I have proof, out of respect for you and only because of you.’
Dornan laughed. ‘You expect me to believe that?’
Emilio ran his tongue over his teeth, fiddling with his deep crimson tie. ‘You are my only son. I’m not getting any younger. All of this will be yours soon, and you’ll have to decide who you can trust to love your sons.’
A flash of Jason and Juliette came to him then. The girl he’d helped raise as if she were his own, and the boy who really was his own, but he’d never known existed. Of all his children, he thought of them, his son and John’s daughter, falling in love, and the thought gave him a small amount of comfort. At least out of the seven sons he had, he could trust one of their girlfriends. Even with the way he and John had grown distant over the years, he still thought of Juliette as one of his own.
‘You didn’t trust Celia,’ Dornan said wryly, referring to his exwife, freshly divorced and back in New York now with her family on an extended ‘trip’.
‘You didn’t love Celia,’ Emilio replied. ‘You love Mariana. Love is the thing that messes everything else up. Love makes us blind. Love makes us foolish.’
You got that right, Dornan thought.
‘One last time. Do you think Mariana has been compromised?’
Everything inside Dornan wanted to scream no. But he remembered the cellphone he’d found hidden in a bag of flour in Mariana’s kitchen cupboard, smeared with blood. How enraged he’d been at the fact she’d hidden it from him. Who had she been calling? Why didn’t she want him to know? He’d been in such denial that she could betray him, he’d never looked at the spot in her kitchen again to see if the phone was still hidden in there. He’d never checked the outgoing calls. Never tried to trace the phone back to a supplier, or a call list, or even asked her about it.
Because the moment he’d been about to ask her was the moment he’d instead lashed out with his fists, beat her until she was knocked out on the floor, and then he’d gotten the call that she’d lost their baby.
The secret phone had been relegated to an uncertain fate. He hadn’t wanted to deal with it. If it were bad? He’d kill her. He’d wrap his hands around her neck and fucking kill her. He’d watch the life drain out of her face, squeeze harder as she choked and begged silently for him to stop. It was a fact that if she’d betrayed him by fucking somebody else, or by feeding information to the FBI, or by funnelling money to Murphy – he would destroy her.
But if Dornan destroyed Mariana, then he’d be all alone. So he didn’t ask about the phone.
Now, though, now it was time to get some fucking answers.
‘I don’t think she’s been compromised, no,’ Dornan said to his father, choosing his words carefully.
Emilio nodded. ‘Thinking is one thing. I want you to know one hundred and ten per cent, son. Will you do that for me?’
‘Yes,’ Dornan replied, his chest feeling like someone had parked a truck on top of it.
‘Tell me if you can’t,’ Emilio persisted. ‘Right now. There’s no shame in honesty, my boy. If you can’t do this – beat the answers out of her, if you have to, violence goes a long way in drawing out the truth from a woman – then I’ll step in and I’ll be the bad person.’
‘No,’ Dornan said quickly, imagining all of the horrible torture devices he’d seen his father employ in the past. He’d once seen Emilio hammer nails into a woman’s forehead while she was fully conscious, in an effort to torture the truth out of her. No. Emilio could not have his twisted way with Mariana.
‘Give me a couple of days,’ Dornan said, standing quickly. ‘I’ll prove she’s not a threat.’
‘How’s the sex?’ Emilio asked suddenly.
‘What?’
‘The sex. She still a little whore for you in the bedroom? Because if she’s not, she’s getting it from somewhere else. Question is – is she getting it from our friend Murphy?’
