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Freedom is a myth. The more I push for control and run the family my way, the less I garner of both, rolling myself into a field of knots and ties in a trap others made for me.
“Look to your family, Rafe. We just made an agreement. Neither of us want a war that will hurt too many we love.”
“Is that what it comes down to?” I toss back the whiskey, enjoying the burn far too much. “Love and war?”
“Doesn’t it always?” Konnor runs a hand through his neat hair, spiking it at the top. His face is all angular lines, a bit of stubble, an easy smile, and twinkling eyes.
Until he loses his shit. Then he’s a terror, one I wouldn’t want anyone to stand against from my house.
“The last time I saw you, my healer was fixing your knee where my wife shot you.”
“But is she still your wife?” Konnor doesn’t smile or push on that barb. He doesn’t need to. That blade sinks spine deep and severs the belief I have in her.
My mouth dries. “What?”
“Our families are interlinked. They always have been. A marriage here, a fling there…” he trails off, spinning his glass on the desk. “Maybe we need a few more ties to … cement our friendship.”
“Are you holding my wife hostage for your own gain?”
Am I wrong? Had Konnor slipped men into my home and taken her? My stomach says she left on her own. My heart burns at either thought.
“Wherever Willow is, Rafe, I’m sure she made her own choices. It’s up to you to understand those choices, and why she might make them.”
I rise, pushing my chair back. “You’re talking in riddles. If Willow is here, and you are holding her against her will, I will rip your world apart and kill everyone you love. Slowly.”
Konnor nods, accepting my threat. His gaze flicks over my shoulder for a fraction of a second, and his smile afterward is strange. “I understand, and I would do the same for the ones I love. But Rafe, for her, would you kneel?”
I still. “I will do whatever it takes to claim my wife and bring her home.”
By some unknown blessing my voice doesn’t crack.
I hold Konnor’s gaze a moment longer and stride out of his office, inhaling a fresh breath though my lungs constrict.
Whiskey, cigars, and a hint of night jasmine.
Chapter Eight
Where I Stand
Willow
“To what do I owe this honor?” the smokey voice questions after answering my call.
“I need someone I can trust.” I don’t hold back. Dealing with someone like Diego is always easier when they know what you want. Beating around the bush is liable to have you stepping in a steaming pile of shit.
“How do you know you can trust me?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“I trust your love of money. And I know I am willing to pay whatever your fee is.”
A smirk of my own blooms across my face at his silence. Rafe may have Dom, a relationship built out of years of trust and going through hell together to build the Gallo Mafia Empire. But I have something else.
Now that Sebastian is dead, the Hernandez family has fallen back to me until Roman comes of age in two years, and that includes the financial freedom I need to start rebuilding the Hernandez empire.
“And you think that will be enough? What of your husband? Is he not worthy of your trust?”
I bristle at his words and say a grateful prayer that no one can see me or my reactions.
“I don’t need a confidant, Diego. I don’t want you to hold my hand,” I say in a voice that exudes more calm than I am feeling. “I need you to watch my back and keep me alive while I do what needs to be done. Are you interested or should I find someone else?”
