This time, his eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Come now, John. We’re both adults here.” I walked with purpose toward his desk, fingering the top of the pile. “With my father’s poor health, I’m going to assume that you are concerned about me taking over the reins. To that end, I think you took matters into your own hands.”
Although there was nothing overtly out of order, my gut told me I was right.
“What in the hell are you talking about? I’ve never had any issue with you, but you come here and insult me in my place of business. How dare you!”
Within two long strides, I had his throat firmly wedged between my fingers, pitching him hard against the wall. As the glass dropped from his hand, shattering into dozens of pieces, I lowered my head and yanked the Glock from my holster. I dug my fingers into his sallow skin as I shoved the barrel under his chin. “How dare I? I’m only going to say this once, John. This is my family’s place of business, a family that has been good to you over the years.”
His face was already beet red, his voice strangled as he attempted to speak. “I didn’t… do… anything. I… swear.”
“You know how much I despise liars, John. From what I’ve heard, you’re in Santiago Rivera’s back pocket.”
“Wha… What?”
I squeezed again, cutting off his air supply. While he flailed, punching me hard against the chest, his age and lack of body mass was no match for my rage. “I have it on good authority that you were the one who provided details of both shipments. At what price, John?”
He slapped at my hands, his fingers attempting to pry mine away. Snarling, I finally let him go, taking a single step backward and drawing my weapon. Slumping over, he coughed several times as he attempted to catch his breath.
I moved back toward his desk, flipping through several of the papers, finding nothing that would corroborate the tip I’d received.
“I would never…” John’s wheezing forced him to stop.
“My father would be highly disappointed, John. After all, you’re supposed to be best friends.”
He stumbled forward, slapping his shaking hands against his desk. “Listen… to me. I did not…”
I glared at him as he coughed again, angry enough I raked my arm across the various stacks of paperwork. As the papers floated toward the floor, he finally locked eyes with mine.
“I swear on my wife’s grave I never betrayed you or your father,” he said with extraordinary conviction. “I couldn’t do that. Not after all these years. I went to prison for your father, Miguel. That’s how much I loved him.”
There were few people John cared about, his deceased wife one of them. For him, desecrating her in any manner was the ultimate betrayal. I pulled back, studying him for a full minute. I’d known by all rights my father should have been the one going to prison. John taking the fall had more than proven his loyalty to the family. However, trust was difficult in my world and once betrayed, there was no return to good graces.
“Then why did I receive a call telling me that you’ve been working with Santiago, providing information regarding shipments? Dates. Times. Locations.”
“Who? Who would say such a thing? Jesus Christ, Miguel. The man is an animal. Did your father ever tell you about our business with him years before? We had an opportunity to go to Cuba years ago. I’ll never forget his brand of… hospitality.” He snorted and raked his hand through his thinning hair.
Now this was getting more interesting. “Why don’t you enlighten me on the details?”
I heard him, the wretched story fitting the information provided by my father. My father had been in a position to squash any attempts made by Santiago.
At that very moment, I realized that a plan had been put in motion for years. Brilliant in design, played so well that I never had a hint of it coming. I also doubted John had turned against my father.
Then again, he didn’t have to.
Now all I had to do was prove my theory.
“I’ve always considered myself an honorable man, John. You have one chance to prove to me that you’re still loyal.” John had almost as many connections as my father, including several pertinent individuals in Cuba.
“I’ll do anything. You know I will.”
This went against everything I’d been taught. “Set up a meeting with Santiago Rivera on my turf tomorrow as well as find out his planned course of action on the down-low. And John, you are going to be there. Am I clear?”
“Absolutely.”
“As you might imagine, I’ll know if you’re lying to me. If that is the case, your death won’t come easy. Or fast.”
I’d been around long enough to know when the shit was getting ready to hit the fan.
Valencia
His eyes. I couldn’t get over the horror and pain in Miguel’s eyes watching me suffer from seeing the pictures. I’d seen yet another crack in his armor, a man destined to be haunted by the demons he’d never faced. That’s exactly what I’d been doing since I could remember.
All I could think about was spending time with him. After my horrific behavior, he deserved an apology. Or maybe I did. Hell, I honestly wasn’t certain. What I did need to know was the truth from my father. I wouldn’t be able to rest until I did.
I couldn’t get Miguel’s face out of my mind, the taste of him still remaining on my lips from the night before. I’d cried myself to sleep, attempting to pretend I wasn’t living in some horror show. Then I’d awakened in one of the most beautiful settings in the entire world, yet I had no idea who I was any longer.
A cellist?
A daughter?
A lover?
I stood in the corner shop, listening to the sounds of various women as they oohed and aahed over the brilliant Miami fashion designs. While everything along the strip was incredible-the sights and sounds of salsa music, the exotic scents of perfume and the various food establishments-I was numb inside, incapable of absorbing the grandiose location.
Clothes.
The last thing on my mind was purchasing anything, especially clothes. I was still reeling from the pictures, unable to get the one of Rodriguez’s dead body out of my mind. The beautiful little veranda that was positioned on top of his father’s restaurant had been our respite away from the horrors inflicted on the Cuban people. We’d pretended that no one else in the world mattered.