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Goddamn them for forcing me to keep her safe outside of my own environment.
I pulled out the duffle bag I’d brought from the storage unit at the airport, placing it on the table in my office. As Iheaded toward the cabinet where I had additional ammunition, I thought about the Russian kid. While he could be a plant of some kind, I doubted he had any involvement. He’d been too freaked out I’d caught him, begging me to allow him to heal his mother.
What I hadn’t told Zoe was that after telling her my sad tale about when I was about his age, the kid’s story had resonated with me, and that the money I’d taken was for food and to try to keep my mother alive. I’d known a guy back then who’d sold pills that were supposed to counteract the effects of heroin. Of course, they hadn’t worked, the two hundred dollars spent a waste of money, but I’d tried.
After that, I’d tried again. Nothing had worked.
I hadn’t thought about that ugly time in my life for a few years. Zoe brought out the longing for family more than being with Arman or Francois ever had. They were like brothers, but it was never far from any of our minds that I also worked for the family. They’d never lorded it over me, had never made me feel as anything but family, yet I’d felt it within myself, the inability to get close.
Now all I wanted was to be close to someone, to build a family. That was a strange realization for a man like me. Maybe it was my version of a midlife crisis. Maybe I wanted someone to worry about me when I was gone.
Snorting, I grabbed my glass of scotch, tossing back a good third of it as I shoved aside my ridiculous thoughts. What I was sharing with Zoe couldn’t last for a half dozen reasons, the biggest one having nothing to do with Arman, although that was a close second.
The fear that losing her, or anyone I cared about, could quite possibly break me this time.
Just like it had almost done when I’d lost my mother.
As well as the woman I’d transferred my adoration to only a few years later.
Since then, I’d ignored anything but my most base needs, those that could only be satisfied by fucking a beautiful woman. But walking away was what I was good at.
And I’d do it again.
Zoe certainly didn’t need a broken-down guy with a dangerous attitude and an enjoyment of killing. Chuckling, I slapped the fresh magazine into my Glock, placing it on the table with the other weapons, the array some of my favorites, including the hunting knife I’d had for years. The shimmering bezel of the watch caught my eye and I stared at the gift, tensing all over again. The stunning piece had cost her a pretty penny, something she’d yet to explain though I knew she wanted to keep the white lie about working at the shithole of a club.
I couldn’t get over the notion that Zoe wasn’t telling me something, especially seeing the look of terror in her eyes. It was time to have a sit-down conversation with her, likely one she wouldn’t enjoy, but the feeling remained that we weren’t alone on the island. However, leaving wasn’t possible unless absolutely necessary.
Plus, I had to find a way to tell her about her father’s updated condition. That wasn’t something I was looking forward to.
I’d spent the better part of the evening in my office, attempting to trace the recent activities of Raphael Arturo as well as othersin my attempt to rule them out. So far, I’d managed to cross out seven, including a cartel located in Miami who had an ax to grind and wouldn’t mind doing so with either Francois or Arman. I’d discovered they’d dwindled in size, likely given the DEA had been tossed crumbs anonymously, which had led to the arrest of their esteemed leader.
Granted, if they’d learned that Francois had been the bird singing their praises, it was a solid reason for revenge, but given only Arman, Francois, Thomas, and I were in on the dangerous ploy, that was highly doubtful.
While Alturo and his family were still in complete control of Cartagena as well as other parts of South America, there were zero indications a trip had been made to the United States recently or that he’d hired someone to carry out the deed. Still, I left him in the maybe category for now, refusing to mark him off completely.
I’d leave Devin Carlos to Thomas for now, but if he didn’t learn something quickly, I would pull out every contact I had from Mexico through Texas and the west to plot an itinerary of his recent whereabouts and business activities. Hell, I might even head to Texas myself.
At this point, without catching a break or without Francois finding an informant willing to talk, we remained in the dark.
My patience was wearing thin.
I left my office, grabbing my scotch and turning off the light. As I headed into the living room, I was surprised not to find her curled up reading a book. For a few seconds, nerves kicked in, but I’d studied the camera surrounding the house more thanonce. I would have known if someone had crossed the property line.
And I gathered a sense that my little lamb wouldn’t dare leave the property any longer. She’d said very little at dinner, picking at her food as she’d stared off into space.
I moved toward the back door, noticing her sitting in the dark staring out at the ocean. She had nothing in hand, just sitting calmly staring out at the water as if searching for answers. After watching her for a few seconds, I headed to the bar, refreshing my drink while pouring her a glass of wine.
As soon as I moved onto the deck, I expected her to react to my presence, but she remained quiet, unmoving. I eased the glass of wine in front of her and it took a few seconds for her to grasp it. At least she did, immediately bringing the rim to her lips. Exhaling, I moved to the railing, staring out at the water as she’d been doing. The night was beautiful, stars twinkling in the sky, the nearly full moon covered by a blueish hue, which created a slightly eerie atmosphere.
“My father is dying. Isn’t he?”
Her question hit me hard, more so than I thought it would. The dull ache I’d felt both behind my eyes and in my gut increased almost instantly. Lying wasn’t something I could do, certainly not about her family. “He fell into a coma because of a secondary infection. He’s possibly septic. I don’t know his prognosis, Zoe. I would tell you if I did.”
“He has sepsis? Do you know what that means?”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“Well, I’m trained to be a nurse. It’s not good. How did you find out?”
