Page 55 of Capuleto

I wasn't about to tell anything to a cop who didn't know which side he was on. I swirled the wine glass and took a sip.

"They've got you in their sights, Mrs. Koroleva," he muttered when I reached a photo of me walking with Andrey from behind. I looked up and stared at him.

"Me? Why?"

"Because since you took over your brother's company, corpses keep showing up, and nobody likes that. You're painting the Costa del Sol red, and that's not the color people want when they come here to invest their money. You should watch your back."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a fact."

Ana María approached with a tray. She placed the two plates of fish with sautéed vegetables in front of us, along with the two glasses of white wine I had requested. We were momentarily silent, only the faint clinking of the tableware and our angry breaths could be heard.

I closed the folder when I saw the cook and reopened it the moment she walked away.

I saw many photos of myself in different places, but one particularly caught my attention. It was from the day R and I met with Jonás Sánchez.

"What is this?" I showed the image to Segarra.

He had already started eating and was cutting an asparagus. His gaze narrowed.

"As I said, they've been investigating you for a while. The mayor of Marbella is furious about the shooting the other day. The one in Málaga wasn't thrilled about the death of the former port director, with whom he used to play paddle tennis. Nor was the one in Estepona happy that a journalist burned himself alive after his son committed suicide. Mafia crimes aren't the tourist attraction they want."

"Don't dodge the question. I didn't ask about that. Why is Jonás Sánchez in this photo? And in this one? And this one?" I insisted, pushing the three images towards him. In the other two, the guy appeared alone. In one, he was making a phone call in a renowned restaurant, and in the other, he was driving a sports car I didn't know he had.

"They were investigating Jonás Sánchez. Let's say his life took a sudden turn since Mentium came into it."

"What do you mean?"

"His finances grew exponentially. He changed his car, his house, enrolled his son in an international school... Believe me, journalism doesn't pay that well. He started showing up in places you wouldn't normally find someone like him, and the commissioner asked us to stay alert."

23

Crossing swords

Aleksa

Álvaro San Juan was standing in front of me, with a small suitcase in hand, his caramel eyes scanning me after I had shaken his hand and introduced myself as R's trusted man.

He had arrived an hour ago, brought to the house by one of Massimo's men, who mentioned that until Andrey returned, he would take his place to familiarize himself with the surroundings as quickly as possible.

At least he seemed much more open than the Russian, clearly showing his Spanish roots and easy-going nature. The first thing he asked, after settling into his room, was for me to take him on a tour of Cheng's establishments.

I was tired of being cooped up. My ribs were bothering me, but not enough to refuse a reconnaissance round. Besides, I urgently needed a drink. What happened to R and Dante had me on edge? We didn’t even know if the latter would survive the night, so my mood was quite somber. Dante was my friend, damn it! And now he was fighting for his life, connected to a machine that kept him breathing.

He didn’t deserve this. After all he had done to build a future, to end up burned alive by that bastard journalist.

San Juan was not unaware of what had happened. Massimo’s man who had picked him up at the airport had filled him in. He was empathetic to my pain and listened to all the outbursts I let out at the bar.

He barely paid attention to the topless Chinese girls walking around. He accompanied me, beer after beer. In total, it was three. And I thanked him for letting me vent all the hatred and pain I felt. Surely, if it had been Andrey, he would have sent me to the corner to think.

Supposedly, guys like me were used to death, pain, and losing coworkers. But Dante was much more than that, both to R and to me.

"Shall we go to another club? Or do you prefer we leave it for tomorrow? Maybe today isn’t the best day for this."

"No, sorry, I’m fine. I apologize for the burden I’ve been. I'm not usually like this."

“We all get affected when a comrade we care about gets hurt. It’s clear you’re very close.”