Page 177

I'd had good reasons for doing what I did.
They'd taken Tatiana and drugged her up. Despite the fact that she often straddled the line between the King and cartel territory, I'd clearly claimed her in front of the whole city, and they had no right to take her.
And that was only one in a list of infractions by the cartel--they were clearly trying to take advantage of the instability of the change in leadership in the King territory.
And yet, Coulter was right about one thing--I shouldn't have acted on my own.
I should have come to them. Trusted them.
It was right of Bourbon to kick me out.
I wasn't acting like a brother.
It was true; I didn't trust anyone.
Not my brothers and not Tatiana.
And, despite the ache and pain of being kicked out from my family, I had to put all that aside in need of something more important--Tatiana.
She was my most important concern now and I was desperate to find her.
With the attack at the hospital, I wasn't so sure she was as safe as I'd thought she might be. Heavens knew that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but I wasn't taking a chance on her life.
Old enemies had come for me, and I needed to finish what my abuelo had never done--find and discover which of my enemies from Veracruz was still remaining, and kill him.
El Caminante.
Several hours later, I sat outside Poppy's house, once again. All roads led here--mostly because everywhere else was a desperate dead end.
But Poppy had been the one Tatiana had spoken to last time she'd been kidnapped. She'd also intentionally distracted me that night; she would knowsomething.
Poppy opened her door in a robe, even though it was the middle of the day. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her hair. "Knight." Her surprise was genuine.
I eyed her smeared mascara and lipstick. "Upset about Benny?"
"Huh?"
She didn't know.I wasn't even certain that she would care.
She had plenty of time to find out about Benny; I didn't have that luxury.
"Invite me in," I said coolly.
"Come in," she stepped to the side, readjusting her robe to tie it tighter as I stepped through her doorway. "Dante will be joining us."
"Oh," she scrambled to pass me, quickly grabbing emptied wine glasses, dirty plates, and silverware from the coffee table.
"Have a seat," she called from the kitchen, where she dumped everything in her kitchen sink. When she returned, Dante was already standing next to me, having entered through the back door.
"Sit," she said again, but we both stared at her, not moving.
"Fine," she grumbled, redoing her messy bun into an even messier one, then sat down across from us, crossing her legs and holding her robe tight. "How can I help you?"
I took in her rumpled look, the soft powdery cocaine remnants on the coffee table, pillows scattered everywhere. "Are we interrupting anything?" I nodded towards a bottle of uncorked and unfinished wine by the bar.
"No," she replied, a little too quickly.
"Is there anyone else in the house," Dante growled from beside me.