Page 39 of Stolen Dove
We’ve just finished dinner when my phone rings. I look at the number and don’t recognize it. “Serrano.”
“Brother. It’s good to hear your voice,” Julio chuckles on the other end of the line. It’s been six years since I heard from the bastard. He called two days after I took over to say he deserved a piece of the family inheritance. I laughed, and he hung up.
“Really?”
“Yes. You sound happy. Could it be that having a wife did you some good? A fine little thing she is too.”
“Choose your words wisely, Julio.”
“What? Are you that possessive of that sweet thing your man had his hands on?”
“My wife is off limits. I won’t let it go this time. She’s mine.”
“I don’t want a war, Victor. I wanted my share. I didn’t ask to be born to that asshole. I just wanted my cut.”
“You mean the cut of debt? Or the bodies of the men I lost fighting the Sicilians because he’d screwed us all?”
“I know that now. I learned what you did to turn it around. Besides, I’ve found my own little slice of heaven miles away. I’m calling you to set up a truce of sorts. With people snooping and asking questions with regards to my activities, I’ve been forced to deal with someone taking matters into his own hands. None of my men were instructed to take action on your lands. I might have resented what you had that I didn’t, but I’ve got what I need and that’s to wipe my hands clean of my mother’s lover.”
“We will never be close, Julio.”
“I’m not asking for that. I’m keeping to my area and staying there. I just ask that you don’t try to take it.” I’m still going to dig into his story because I can’t take his word after all these years.
“I’ve got no interest in your activities as long as they’re not affecting mine.”
“Good. So we understand each other.”
“Take care, Julio.” I end the call and feel a fuckton lighter. I already know who was fucking with my property. The tech sent me an email with a list of tower hits, which correspond to every one of the fires.
“What are you going to do about him?” Fernando asks.
I run my fingers through my hair, feeling the weight of the situation. “For now, just leave it. I know all the damn fires were started by one of my own, so until I have proof otherwise, I’m not interested in going to war. Have you gotten the report on the other men from Giuseppe yet?”
“No. He says it’s going to take several days. It’s not as fast as they make it look on television.” I nod, suspecting that shit.
“Well, keep a lookout for any of our men who suddenly disappear. I have a feeling that Vicente was just jealous, and my wife only amplified his envy.”
“I agree, except I believe he truly was interested in stealing her away. There’s something I don’t want to show you, but it was on his phone.”
“What?” He hands me the printed email from Giuseppe. It’s a blurred-out image of my wife sleeping with a towel wrapped around her body. It’s clear the towel slid slightly off, giving Vicente a peep at my wife’s tits and the side of her ass.
“He’s lucky he’s fucking dead. I want that destroyed. Do you know when he took it?”
“Yes. The timestamp was the morning after we came back from America. We had to leave to deal with the fire and you went to get her the tablet.”
“God, I feel like a prick. I accused her of trying to leave while allowing this fucker to creep on her. Shit.”
“What?”
“She wasn’t even safe in her own home, in her own bed. He would have done something.”
“Don’t go there. It’s over, and he can’t come after her again.”
“From now on, not a single man is allowed upstairs in my home. No one except those who live in the house are allowed anywhere inside unless supervised by one of us.”
“Understood. Are you going to tell her?”
“No. God, no. I don’t want her to be scared to be in her home alone. I need to check on her. I’ll be back for the call.” I rush out of my office and upstairs, nearly colliding with my wife. “Baby, what are you doing up?”