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My heart skipped a beat and my pulse raced as I looked down at the picture. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, and he looked determined as he stared at something in the direction of the person taking the picture.
It was sort of eerie. I looked through the rest of the pictures and gasped when I came across one of myself. We were sitting outside of a taco truck with Luis, eating and laughing.
And then there were more pictures, one of me coming out of work, a pile of folders in my hand. I was running in another. Each and every photo of me had been taken before Jason had been murdered, I realized.
My hands shook. I felt like I was going to be sick. How long had Dario been following me?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dario
She was kneeling down,all her attention directed at the photos in front of her. I came up silently behind her and studied them over her shoulder.
My eyes narrowed. Where had she gotten those? Where did they come from?
“Where did you find those?” My voice was quiet as I waited for a response.
She turned slowly towards me, her shoulders tense. “I think I should be the one asking questions.”
The look in her eyes was steely. She meant every word.
“Ask away.”
I sat down on the bed, hoping to look nonchalant, but the look in her eyes made me remember that I couldn’t let my guard down around her.
“What are these pictures for, Dario? Did you take them?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not.”
She threw the pictures on the bed next to me and then turned around and pulled out another unmarked envelope. Looking furious, she ripped it open, and out fell more pictures of her.
I reached down and picked one up, studying the photo of her standing next to a coworker, talking. It was a nice picture I couldn’t help but think. In it, she looked younger, more carefree.
I looked up at her questioningly. “Where did you get these?”
“Don’t play dumb!”
She was breathing hard, pacing and unable to stay still because she was so angry.
I looked at the other pictures she’d spilled onto the floor next to me, realizing that I had never actually looked at any of the pictures that were in the envelope. I figured they had been taken by Ivan.
He was head of my security detail, after all. I had kept a close eye on all my brothers’ dealings.
Clearly, the photos had something to do with one of my brothers…or maybe even both. I figured these pictures were from a few years before the murder.
I had never looked at them because that’s what Ivan was for. He handled that side of things for me along with some other sensitive jobs.
I didn’t know why these pictures were on my yacht, but I did let Ivan use it sometimes to take care of jobs that required the freedom to come and go easily.
I had a large organization, and I couldn’t manage it all it single-handedly on my own. I was curious as to why she was the particular subject of so many photos. I frowned.
I hoped I hadn’t assigned a pervert to watch my wife. I needed to speak with Ivan. I needed to know if I needed to break every bone in his body or not.
“You don’t understand.”