"Then he can find another client, one with a bit less paranoia than it seems I possess." Ian's smile was tight. "I don't have time for a drug war, Diego. We'll do it my way first."
Diego's black eyes gleamed with excitement.
"The wars spice up life, Ian." Diego grinned with all apparent anticipation. "They keep you on your toes."
"I'd been a ballet dancer if I wanted to dance on my toes, pop," he said.
Diego sighed in regret. "Radacchio will demand a meeting to discuss this."
"Then tell him he can talk to me. And that's another thing; either I run this shit or I don't. Stay out of it. Don't try to negotiate with Radacchio like you did the Misserns last month. I won't be happy."
The announcement had an angry frown creasing Diego's face. "What do you mean by this?" he burst out. "Stay out of what business? Fuentes business? I remind you, I am the Fuentes. It is my business."
Ian lifted his head and stared back at Diego silently.
Diego flinched as Ian stared back at him unblinkingly.
"I do not like this," he muttered. "I am not so old that I cannot be a part of my own business any longer."
"You have your job."
"Bah. My job. It is no job to oversee the farms and production of the coca. A child could do this."
"We have a deal," Ian reminded him, his voice hard. "Don't fuck me over on it, old man, or I'll be gone even faster than I made it here."
It wasn't an idle threat. If he couldn't control the cartel, then Ian didn't have a hope in hell of drawing Sorrell in. He knew it, and Diego knew it. To safeguard the business from being forcibly taken by the terrorist, Diego needed Ian. Ian needed control.
"You are hard, Ian." Diego sighed. "Harder than even I believed. More so than my investigations into you revealed."
"I'm a product of my childhood, pop," he bit out. "Remember?"
Diego grimaced. His black eyes were, for the barest moment, bleak with sorrow. It was a sorrow Ian refused to acknowledge, even to himself. He didn't care about Diego's past regrets, his hopes or his dreams, no matter the illusion Ian allowed him that he did. All he cared about was catching Sorrell and delivering him and Diego Fuentes into the hands of justice. Or, their heads on a platter. The latter if he could get away with it.
"If I could go back, I would give my life to have spared you that pain," Diego said softly, with apparent sincerity.
"There's no going back." Ian shrugged. "Just think, it made me hard enough to straighten your little world out, pop. We haven't had a successful hijacking or a missed load since I arrived."
"For a man who does not enjoy war, you shed enough blood," Diego griped. "And refuse to allow me in on the fun. I was pleased though. The agents of the U.S. that you uncovered last month will steal no more information from us, yes?"
The men he had killed had been perverted monsters posing as American agents. They had worked for the DEA, drawn their pay, and given just enough information to make them viable. Until they tried to kill Ian in the name of that bastard Sorrell.
Killing agents was something Ian preferred not to do, but when a man had the barrel of a gun aiming in his direction, he did what he had to.
"I have to head back to town this morning." Ian glanced at his watch and grimaced. "I'm meeting one of our lawyers at the casino. One of our Miami clubs seems to be losing a tidy little profit. I want to know why."
"Why did you not have him come here?" Diego stared back at him in angry confusion. "You do not go running like a hound to the underlings, Ian. They come to you."
"Good idea, pop." He sneered. "Let's just throw a party for all of them so they can scope out our security and hit the house in the dead of night. Why the hell do you think so many of your friends end up dying in their beds from an enemy bullet?"
Diego's expression flickered with anger. "I am aware of the risks to this life. I have lived many years and survived many attempts against mine. We are Fuentes. We do not hide and we do not scrape to those beneath us by observing their rules. They come to us."
"And Sorrell has managed to turn some of your most loyal associates his way simply because of your arrogance," Ian snapped. "Let's not make this harder than it already is. I'll be back in a few hours. Until then, try to stay out of trouble."
Diego hated nothing more than being talked to as though he were a child, and though Ian tempered it, there was nothing he delighted in more. He was afforded very few pleasures in this little game he was playing and he took them where he could.
"Should I consider myself under house arrest while we are at it?" Diego burst out angrily as Ian made to leave the room. "You will not tell me who I may or may not invite into my house."
Ian shrugged. "Invite them all for all I care. I don't sleep deep enough for anyone to slip into my room unawares. You do, though. I'd remember that."
He opened the doors and stepped into the foyer before Diego could say more.
"Mendez, have Deke and the others join us outside," he ordered the waiting bodyguard. "We have a lawyer to meet."
Ian strode through the marbled foyer to the front door, almost grinning as the houseman rushed to open the wide doors ahead of him.
He stepped onto the sunlit portico, gazing at the ferns, palms, and swaying greenery that surrounded the large circular driveway and sheltered the paved road that led from the gated entrance. The entire property was enclosed by a ten-foot stone wall that Ian had had wired for security. Guards were posted around the property, and the additional training Ian had insisted on had paid off several times when attempts were made to slip into the estate.
He was vulnerable and he knew it. Shoring up his defenses and inspiring loyalty throughout the Fuentes networks was imperative now. He needed men who were loyal to the heir of the cartel rather than the cartel leader himself. Soon, Ian would know every dirty little player, every scumbag assassin and petty drug dealer Diego possessed.
He would know the whores, the pimps, clubs, and owners and which location yielded the highest sales. He was gathering the names of political buyers and sellers as well as those within the law enforcement community that not just Diego, but a dozen other drug kingpins, were blackmailing.
By the time he brought Sorrel and Diego down, there wouldn't be a secret of Diego's that Ian didn't know. And that brought satisfaction. If he lived to achieve his objective, then two fewer drug-dealing terror-selling sons of bitches would cease to breathe air.
He should feel a measure of guilt, he was sure. Diego was after all his father. The same father whose wife had nearly killed Ian's mother, as well as Ian. Who had been responsible for the most terrifying night of a ten-year-old boy's life. The night his mother had lain bleeding to death in his arms.
Because of Carmelita Fuentes. Because Diego was a drug-dealing slime pit with more enemies than friends and hands so bloodstained Ian could smell the stench of them anytime he was around the other man.
And soon, his own hands would carry the same stench, Ian thought with a sigh, as Deke pulled a white Range Rover to a stop in front of the villa.
Rather than driving this time, Ian stepped into the back seat, accepted a briefcase from Mendez, and opened it as the doors closed and the vehicle drove way.
The fourth bodyguard was in another Rover behind them, providing backup and an additional vehicle in case this one encountered any unforeseen accidents. In this business, Ian had learned to expect the unforeseen.
DIEGO WATCHED AS THE ROVERS left the estate, a frown on his face, his jaw clenched with worry and concern as Ian left the protection of the estate. He worried, a sign of old age perhaps. Each time Ian left, Diego feared it would be the last time he saw him.
"El Patrón." Saul entered the breakfast room, closing the doors behind him and facing Diego with an inquisitive expression. "You sent for me?"
Saul was old. His shoulders were stooped, his dark eyes a bit dull, his face creased with age. He had been Diego's father's most trusted advisor. At Carmelita's death he had returned to Diego's s
ide.
Diego nodded slowly. "Have you learned anything from our sources?"
Ian had eliminated the spy in the U.S. government that Diego had drawn closest to him, Jansen Clay, but there were others, much more important contacts, who relied upon Diego as much as he relied upon them.
"No teams are being sent for him, as you requested." Saul stepped to the sideboard and prepared himself a plate of fruits and sweets. "There are reports that Durango team, the friends he fought with, have protested this action vociferously, especially the one known as Macey, but they are being contained. Orders have gone out to watch his actions only, and to learn what he has planned. It seems the Americans are more concerned with your promise that Ian will eliminate Sorrell than they are with capturing a traitor." Satisfaction echoed in Saul's voice, as it did in Diego's heart.
"The boy, he takes too many risks." Diego sighed. "He goes now to meet with lawyers rather than having them come to him. As though he dares Sorrell or the other cartels to strike at him."
"The other cartel leaders are learning to stay out of his way, Diego. As with yourself and the Americans, they merely watch him."
"And your report on his activities?" Diego asked.
As much as he loved the boy, and he did, loved him more than he had loved his youngest son or that viper Carmelita, he couldn't forget that betrayal could come from within.
"He has met with no agents that he hasn't killed." Saul chuckled. "Of course, they attempted to draw blood first. He does not party, nor does he partake of our product. He does not surround himself with the whores and drug groupies that vie for his attention other than necessary. And those who cling to his arm at those times are well known to us, and not associated with any government's law enforcement agencies. For all appearances, my friend, he has upheld his word. His loyalty is to you."
Diego nodded slowly. "And your own impressions of him?"
Saul sighed then.
Diego turned and watched him with an edge of sorrow. Saul's impressions were as reliable as other men's reports.
"I must know this, my friend," he said softly. "What do you believe goes on in my son's mind, in his heart?"
"There is still much anger," Saul stated as he laid his arms on the table and regarded Diego. "He has softened toward you marginally. He does not refuse to hear the stories I would tell him now of your youth and your dreams. He listens. But I can see the rage in his eyes. The events of his childhood and Carmelita's torments are not forgotten."
Diego clenched his fingers into fists before forcing himself to relax them.
"He blames me." Diego moved back to the table, taking his seat with a heavy breath of regret and staring across the table at Saul. "As well he should. I should have known Marika had not been killed as my father reported. I should have known that his fascination with her would result in a betrayal."
"He was an old man, Diego." Saul shook his gray head sadly. "The little blond nurse you brought to him was seen as an angel. An angel that should not be mired in the blood and treachery of the cartels. He sought to save her. It was only by chance that Carmelita learned of her and of the child."
Diego stared at the table, his finger smoothing over the lace cloth that covered it as he remembered Marika Desmond. An unusual name, for an unusual woman. She had been named after her Slavic grandmother, and she wore her name with pride.
So blond her hair had glistened white beneath the Colombian sun. Her smile had been filled with dreams and with purpose as she came to the villages as a nurse, healing the sick and touching all with her kindness. She had been unaware of who Diego was, and she had taken him into her bed with a love that had touched his soul.
He had known her such a short time. Only months. And he had never forgotten her. To learn she had spent the years of his marriage to Carmelita living in fear, that Ian had nearly died more than once, still filled him with rage.
Diego's father had arranged it so it appeared Marika had died. Carmelita had attempted to arrange her death in truth.
"We made a strong son," Diego whispered, wishing he could call Marika, wishing he could thank her for Ian's life, but his son forbade it so violently that Diego feared his wrath if he attempted it.
"You did," Saul agreed.
"Has she attempted to contact him?" Diego lifted his gaze to Saul once more. "Have you heard her voice?"
"He refuses to speak with her," Saul said heavily. "He has broken all ties, Diego, even those with his mother. I questioned him just this past week about her. He said he does not speak to her in an effort to not add to her pain. She would only plead for his return, and he has sworn he will not leave the cartel."
Diego wrapped his hand around his coffee cup and stared into the cooling liquid. Memories of Marika washed over him, staining his soul with his own regrets.
"She is well?"
"She is well and happy with her American husband. And protected, Diego. Ian and John Richards see to this, though Richards is unaware of the two men Ian has ordered to watch her."
"And my son is loyal?" He lifted his eyes to Saul again, needing the confirmation.
"In my estimation, he is loyal. And within a few years, my friend, perhaps he will even call you father."
Diego breathed in roughly. He needed to be called father, perhaps even one day, grandfather. Recalling the information he had received last night, he thought that maybe with a little push, his son would take the American heiress to the Maclane fortune. If nothing else, as a lover. Diego did not care if his grandchildren were legitimate or not. It was blood that mattered. Now, he understood his father's beliefs in family, no matter the betrayal. Blood mattered.
* * *
Five
SHE WAS A FOOL, AND Kira admitted it as she allowed the waiter to lead her to the small table of the restaurant where she had arranged to meet her uncle that afternoon. The same restaurant where she knew Ian would be having lunch. Money in the right hands, and before the morning was over she had known where to find him.
She was pushing him, pushing herself, and she knew it. Ian was playing with fire, and she didn't just mean the operation he was working against Fuentes and Sorrell.
She was terribly afraid he meant to kill Diego Fuentes, a monster, a brutal, merciless bastard who preyed on the weak. But he was still Ian's biological father. A son should never have to kill his sire. The repercussions would be horrifying.
She had no proof of it, no verification. All she had was her own intuition, which she admitted was colored by her desire for him. And something much more.
There was a part of her that refused to let go of Ian. A part she had never known existed until last year. As though beneath the darkness that had been her life for the past ten years, a shadow of light had begun moving, weakening her, reminding her that she was a woman.
"Kira, is that you?"
Her head lifted, a smile of pleasure pulling at her lips at the sight of the small redhead who was coming to her table. Tehya Talamosi, with her shadowed eyes and somber face, and Kira's suspicions that she was as much an agent as the Chameleon was.
"Tehya, what are you doing here?" Over the years Kira had met the other woman in several different countries, where she was usually involved with relief efforts of some sort.
"Vacation." Tehya shrugged, her gaze flickering around the room. "I just wanted to stop and say hi." She ducked her head almost shyly, allowing her long hair to shield her face.
"It's good to see you again." Kira watched her closely. She couldn't be old enough to be an agent, yet Kira had the same feeling, the same internal defenses jumping to life, with the girl as she did with any other agent. Or enemy.
Tehya smiled back at her, her gaze flickering toward Ian and a few other scattered tables before she nodded and turned to walk through the restaurant.
In a glance Kira once again took in the way her denim-clad legs moved. There was a stiffness that hadn't been there the last time she saw her, a few years before. Her shoulders were straighter beneath the light cotton
T-shirt she wore. And as always, Kira felt the need to protect the other girl.
She shook the feeling off. If Tehya needed her protection she had ample opportunity to ask for it. Kira made a mental note to have Daniel run her name through DHS tonight, see what he could dig up on her. This mission was too important and the realization that an unknown could be on the perimeters of it worried her.
Hiding behind her menu, she lowered her head and closed her eyes at the sound of Ian's voice as she pushed Tehya to the back of her mind. So dark and rough. He was angry, she could tell. His voice roughened to a gravelly sound when he was angry. When he was aroused it was guttural. And once she had heard him chuckle, the sound like a coming storm at midnight. Rich and laced with sensuality.
Last night, his voice had been gravelly fury as he held her beneath him. Fury and arousal. The sensuality had been there, in his voice, in his dark eyes, in the brooding expression on his face. And the sound of it had struck her womb like an explosion of heat and light.
She let a little smile touch her lips at the thought of Ian's reaction to her arrival. In hindsight, she could look at it with amusement, though the night before, her sexual frustration had been less than amusing.
"That smile makes grown men's knees tremble in fear."
Kira's gaze jerked from the menu to Ian as he stood looking down at her. She tried to pretend surprise. She had felt him, had known he would end up speaking to her.
"Ian, what a surprise," she said softly, laying the menu on the table as she crossed her legs, braced her elbow on the table, rested her chin in her bent wrist and gave him a mischievous, flirty look.
"A surprise, huh?" He tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, causing the finely woven white cotton shirt he wore to ripple over his abs.
The shirt was a little loose, subtly shaping his broad shoulders and tight, leanly muscled body. His overly long dark blond hair was pulled to the nape of his neck, casting the harsh angles of his face into aching relief.
"Of course it's a surprise." She rounded her eyes and stared back at him as though his tone shocked her. "Do you think I'd stalk you?"