Page 101 of Devil's Property

I’d provided everything she’d needed, but we were still on rocky ground. There was no trust. Not that I blamed her.

At this point, trust was difficult for both of us, but sentiment was more about the past and not what was happening under my own roof.

I took a sip of my drink and picked up one of the photographs, easing them under the light of the single lamp I’d turned on. I preferred the darkness anyway, night being when I usually did my most critical thinking.

Only on this night, something was nagging at me.

I’d lamented over pictures taken with Lucian and me. In every photo we’d had huge smiles, as if we didn’t have a care in the world. But the one I was holding right now was more perplexing. Maybe I hadn’t found this one in particular before or simply hadn’t paid close attention.

There were several men in the picture sitting at a round table. Rafael Torres, both Salvatore and Valentino Aldero, and two other men with their backs turned to the camera. It was conceivable the two were cartel leaders of a smaller organization such as Genevieve’s father, Julio Morales. He’d been around then, only not nearly as powerful.

The Morales Empire had only come into power after the Aldero Empire had been all but decimated. Rafael had cleaned the streets with the man’s employees, claiming the dead leader’s territory.

The city had erupted in turmoil, law-abiding citizens also paying the price. After that, a crackdown of criminal activities had altered the landscape of Barcelona. Suddenly, more legitimateoperations had been sought. That forced a change in the Torres organization that expanded over the years.

It had been a wild time and for a young boy just getting his feet wet, I’d loved every fucking second of running the streets with Jago, then also with Kruz.

The good old days.

Another flash of lightning drew my attention once again.

What the fuck were we missing?

My instinct told me Fallon’s father had risked the safety and the lives of both daughters, yet I had a feeling it was for an entirely different reason than Fallon believed.

I tossed the photograph onto the table and moved toward the window, mesmerized by the display of natural power. There were many missing pieces, yet one thing remained certain.

Fassi needed to die. There was no other choice.

There were dozens of ways to make a man suffer. I excelled at many of them.

The use of various traditional weapons was of course the easiest method of ending a man’s life. However, it took skill to use whatever was handy, ordinary items that moral people would never consider using.

Saws.

Drills.

Sledgehammers.

Piano wire.

The reason I was fixating on my skills? The rage that continued to regurgitate itself. Heading to Mexico had been nothing but a wild goose chase, a tactical turn for whoever was pulling the strings. Why? So I’d be paired with Fallon?

There had to be easier methods, although I couldn’t think of them. We were worlds apart and not only in mileage. Would she have traveled to Spain if she’d thought her sister had been brought here? Maybe, but the logistics would have been a huge obstacle.

Now all I could think about was the pain I wanted to inflict on Farid Fassi and his Moroccan goons. I paced the floor, doing what I could to put the pieces together. Why had Jamal Fassi been so intent on destroying the Torres family?

When the snake had reared his ugly head, I’d bought that he was simply another drug lord wanting to eliminate the competition, using diamonds as a way of positioning a red carpet down for his arrival. But my gut had been churning since he’d slithered from his viper’s den a second time, almost ending Kruz’s life.

Now his son had his sights set on me, using the bad framing job to lure the Brain out in the open. From what Fallon had told me, she’d believed her father had run like a coward. I had a feeling he’d done so to try to keep his daughters protected.

From the danger, the truth, the past, or all three?

Maybe when and if I determined which one, I’d have a better understanding of Farid’s determined vendetta.

I pulled the glass to my lips, taking a deep breath while doing so. Bringing Fallon into my house and my world had changed everything. How? She was everywhere and nowhere, ignoringme as much as possible. She’d barely spoken to me, spending all her time nursing her sister back to health.

Was I jealous? Maybe. What kind of man did that make me when I was envious of a half-dead woman? I rolled the glass across my eyes, ignoring the ache.