Page 7 of Tainted Blood
The Colombian’s revelation spins in my head until every word hums a sinister melody. “You know, all this could have been avoided if I’d just shot you that night outside the church. You’re lucky I’d never aim a bullet near her.”
Her.
The angel I chose to let fly, rather than clip her wings.
The signs had been there all along, dancing in the shadows. They’d watched and taunted, waiting for me to look past my own blind revenge and see the truth.
The girl in the red toboggan. The innocence I chose above honor.
Muñequita.
Thalia.
Everything has always been red.
Red Wedding.
Red toboggan.
Red dresses.
“Santi?”
I glance over my shoulder to find a gathered crowd of sicarios waiting for a command, anticipating a volatile reaction to the grenades Grayson just tossed out the window of his piece of shit car.
This wasn’t so much a truce as a diversion. That Colombian bastard lured me outside so he could drive his way in. He dangled a Bardi-shaped carrot in front of my face, distracting me with warnings of princess rings and trafficking auctions, allowing Sanders enough time to turn my wife against me.
With the truth.
I grit my teeth. “I want this place surrounded,” I say, forcing a calm I don’t feel. “No one leaves the vicinity.”
They all look at each other. One finally clears his throat. “What about the invited guests, boss? What if they’re already leaving?”
“Then fire bullets into their tires until they’re not.” I don’t wait for any more questions. Turning, I take two steps at a time, with RJ and Rocco falling in behind me as I barrel through the doors of my casino.
Curious eyes turn our way, but no one speaks.
“Have two guards stationed at every exit and the rest searching every inch of this place for Thalia like their lives depend on it.” Pausing, I hold Rocco’s stare. “Because they do.”
My threat doesn’t fall on deaf ears. As it shouldn’t. I’m dead serious. Nodding, he slips out from behind us, his phone already to his ear, barking out orders.
RJ doesn’t question where I’m going as I continue my path. He silently shadows my heavy footsteps as I weave through the layers of smiling patrons and make my way toward the Platinum Bar Lounge.
I don’t hold out much hope, but it’s the last place I saw her.
I scan the sea of faces, finding nothing but old money and ambitious socialites laughing as they turn a blind eye to Legado’s bloody foundations. Six days ago, I looked at them and saw dollar signs. Now I just see my own fallibility.
But no red…
She’s not here.
Fucking Grayson.
All I needed was a few more hours. I was going to tell her everything tonight—about Bardi, about finding the tape, about there being no debt to pay off…
About my decision to let my muñequita fly away. Again.
“What happened?”