So I sketched with their blood for me, my sister, and every woman who’d been wronged by men like this one.
I stood over my victim like an avenging angel, watching him struggle until the life drained out of his eyes.
“Another one bites the dust,” I muttered under my breath. “Bathtime, asshole.”
Dragging his dead weight into the bathroom, I grunted and cursed as I pushed his body, limb by limb, into the filthy, ancient tub.
Once in there, I used the fire escape to fetch my supplies.
It took me exactly five hours to dispose of the body. A sodium hydroxide mixture with boiling water made Pedro disappear down the rusted drain. The stench—pungent, sharp, and acrid—was welcomed. I’d take it over being touched any day.
My heart thrashed with memories of my own sister. They always seemed to reach me at the worst times. I pulled out my phone and retrieved my secret folder, then pressed Play. I’d seen the recording a million times—could recite every detail of it word for word, move for move. That didn’t stop my chest from fracturing with the same intensity.
The gloved and masked men tortured her. She fought them tooth and nail, yanking the chain off one’s neck. I wished there was a way to zero in on the necklace. I needed clues, anything to hunt those responsible down.
In the next moment, they dunked her head into a tub filled with a clear solution, and I watched my twin’s body dissolve into nothing. Pain surged across my chest, the way it did every time I thought of her.
The cartel—specifically the Tijuana cartel, who had close ties to the Cortes cartel—took something valuable from me. In return, I would take it all from them. When I was done with them, there’d be nothing left but ash.
Even if it included my own mother and me.
Chapter 6Kingston
Rush hour in the city was in full swing when I entered the building that Byron called “meet in the middle” restaurant.
The place was crowded, but my family had a reserved table. A privilege of being wealthy. Our mother left her inheritance to her children, and each one of us had built our empire from the ground up. My brothers became some of the top real estate tycoons, and I became one of the top killers and trackers in the underworld.
I made my way over to the table where Kristoff Baldwin and my brother Byron already sat with drinks in their hands. Bourbon for Byron, scotch for Kristoff. They were way too predictable.
Kristoff pushed his hand through his hair, flagging the waiter over.
“Kingston,” he greeted me, handing me an envelope. It was a deed to another property I acquired.
I took my spot, nodding my thanks.
“Byron, I thought you were still in France?” I remarked. “Are your wife and kids here too?”
“We’re here just for a week.”
The waitress was back with a refill for Kristoff, who downed it before she disappeared.
“What’s wrong with you?” I questioned.
“His oldest is rebelling,” Byron remarked. “He’s worried because he hasn’t heard from her in a few days.”
“I’m sure you can track her via phone,” I pointed out.
“She has it turned off,” he gritted.
“Is that what I have to look forward to with my children?” Byron mused. “Sleepless nights and rebellion?”
“For your sake, I hope not,” Kristoff retorted dryly. “You might be left without any hair.”
My brother served a few deployments with Kristoff, the latter saving his life on his last tour. Byron was lucky to come out of it with only burns on his back.
I twisted my face as the two of them marveled at the joys and stress of parenthood and marriage. It wasn’t jealousy, I told myself. It had nothing to do with the fact that I couldn’t relate. Or maybe it had everything to do with it.
My thoughts drifted to Liana Volkov and a sardonic breath left me at her show of confidence back at the restaurant. Admittedly, it also left me puzzled. It intrigued me—troubled me even—that there was no recognition in her eyes. She couldn’t remember me.
I shook my head, chasing the thoughts of her away. I spent more time than I liked with that woman on my mind. That had to stop.
“Is everything okay?” Byron asked, studying me.
“Yes.”
Kristoff leaned back into his seat. “I recognize that look.”
I gave him a puzzled look. So did my brother. “What look?” I questioned.
Kristoff smiled, amusement flashing in his gaze. “Someone important, a woman, must be occupying your mind.”
He was only partially right. Liana was a woman, but she wasn’t important to me. I pushed my fingers through my hair, the motion something I’d done more than I’d like to admit in the recent days.
It was at that moment that a familiar figure caught my attention. Giovanni Agosti was seated at the table opposite from us.
“Excuse me,” I said, getting to my feet and making my way to his table. His expression was solemn as he looked up to find me sliding into the chair opposite him.
“By all means, I wasn’t waiting for a date,” he muttered dryly.
Giovanni was part of the Thorns of Omertà, although for the most part kept to himself. “What are you doing in the city?”
He raised a brow. “Are you writing a book about me that I don’t know about?”
Odd. He usually wasn’t the dodging type. I cast a look at our surroundings. “I am.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Please leave out this chapter.” My lips twitched. I would swear he was about to roll his eyes but stopped himself. “I have to attend my uncle’s… event.”
I raised a brow. “Event?” He nodded. “Isn’t your uncle in Boston?”
His jaw clenched before he answered, “This is my other uncle.”
“Other uncle?” I repeated slowly.
“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes on me, his tone matching mine. “And I want to talk about this as much as you want to talk about your kidnapping by Ivan Petrov and your time under Sofia’s imprisonment.”
The temperature dropped, both of us emanating resentment and eyes blazing.
“Brave of you to bring that up. Have a death wish?” The threat escaped me, so calm and deadly it stilled the air.
Giovanni watched my face, then nodded. “Then don’t ask about my shit.”
Chapter 7Kingston, 10 Years Old
Our nanny chased my little sister Aurora through the yard as I let out an exasperated breath.
“Don’t even start,” Royce grumbled while Winston watched us with a bored expression, taking a puff of his cigarette. If Father found him smoking, he’d have all our ears boxed. “It’s your turn to take her to the zoo.”
“It’s true,” Winston agreed. “But if you’re not up for it, I’ll do it.”
Rora’s dark curls bounced as she skipped across the manicured lawn, brimming with energy. Despite her fancy red coat with black bows for buttons and her shiny leather loafers, she was wild. But she was happy, and I wouldn’t—couldn’t—be the one to ruin it today.
I waved my brothers off and rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it. You guys suck.”
Royce glanced around before flipping me off. Winston just shrugged and returned to his vice, pulling in a puff of nicotine-laced air. The all-boys school we attended demanded a certain level of decorum from us, but that didn’t necessarily apply to our behavior in private.
“Nanny’s going with you, so you won’t really do much,” Royce pointed out.
I called my sister over and took her hand securely into mine while the nanny trailed behind us. She hummed the whole way to the zoo—which was thankfully only a few blocks away—chatting my ear off about the Christmas presents she wanted to shop for. She’d been crazy about hippos since watching a documentary on them, and no amount of explanation could convince my stubborn little sister that we couldn’t keep one in our yard, even if it was at the top of her list.