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  Now the space felt different, charged with Diego’s energy. Violent. Angry. There was no life in the air. No music or art. Just the books on the walls — books she’d never seen Diego read — and the desk and other furniture scattered around the room.

  She moved toward the cabinet against one wall first, hoping to find the humidor her father had kept in there. It was the only thing about Diego that reminded her of her father — they both loved a good cigar — and she thought she remembered seeing him drop the key to his desk inside it once when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  But the cabinet itself was locked, and she stood for a minute, surveying the room for other likely hiding spots. Finally she went to the desk and tried all the drawers, careful not to bump Diego’s chair or touch it in any way. She’d gone to great lengths to avoid leaving behind any proof of her betrayal, even forgoing perfume so he wouldn’t smell it lingering in the air. All the drawers were locked until she got to the bottom one. When she did, she found a smaller humidor filled with cigars, and under them a tiny key.

  She took the key, then hesitated over the cigars. She had the crazy impulse to break every one of them in half. To destroy. To ruin. It was something she hadn’t felt before.

  Self-preservation, yes.

  Even anger.

  But this was the first time her rage had erupted inside of her like a tidal wave. It was as if the last year had been an earthquake and all this time the water had been slowly rolling back out to sea, gathering steam for this moment when a giant wave of fury would crash through her body all at once.

  She closed the drawer and took a deep breath. She had to stay calm. Put aside her feelings and focus on getting Sofia out of here. And that meant finding the computer.

  She worked from the bottom up. By the time she got to the top drawer, she was feeling desperate. They were smaller than the lower drawers, shallower, but the computer had to be there. Diego’s wasn’t a business conducive to carrying around a laptop. She’d never once seen him leave the house with it, and that meant it had to be here somewhere.

  But when she opened the top drawers, the computer wasn’t in either of them. Just pens and loose cigars and matches, and the other detritus of Diego’s work life.

  She closed the drawer and fought against the pit opening up in her stomach.

  They were back to square one.

  She was studying the room, trying to think of where else the computer might be, when the door suddenly opened. She barely had time to register that she’d been caught when the new guard named Eduardo stepped into the room.

  “Well, well, well,” he said. “What have we here?”

  She forced her voice steady. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she said.

  He laughed, and she felt a chill run up her spine. “That’s where you’re wrong, nina. I work for Diego, and you’re in his office when he’s not home.” He walked slowly into the room, approaching her with something like relish while her heart beat a mile a minute. “I’m sure he’d be very interested to know that his baby sister was inside his private office.”

  He stopped at the front of the desk and ran a finger along the fine grain mahogany. “Although I’m sure we could work something out, you and I.”

  She thought of Luca on the other side of the balcony door. Could he hear their conversation? Was he on his way into the house already?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, a little too loud, just in case Luca wasn’t already aware of the situation. “This is my home. And it was my father’s office before it was Diego’s. I have every right to be here.”

  He moved closer, stepping around the desk, his body just inches from hers. He was wearing trousers and a pink button down, but in spite of his neatly pressed clothes he smelled like sweat and liquor. Like Hector. She fought the urge to gag.

  “Well, let’s just ask your brother when he gets home,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll clear it up.”

  She swallowed hard, not sure what to say, how to keep him from telling Diego without making it sound like she was willing enter into his kind of negotiation. Which she wasn’t.

  He moved closer still, bent his head to her neck, and licked from her collarbone to her ear. She slapped his hand away and tried to maneuver around his beefy body, but he grabbed ahold of her hips and held her in place. Bile rose in her throat as panic started to set in.

  “I thought I told you to work on the security assessment with the others.” The voice startled them both, and Eduardo stepped away from her as she backed up toward the glass doors leading to the terrace.

  “I forgot something in the house,” Eduardo said. “Found the girl snooping.”

  “The girl lives here,” Luca said, his voice as cold as steel. “So if anyone’s out of line in this room, I’d say it’s you.”

  Eduardo seemed to hesitate, like he was going to make some kind of argument, but a moment later he nodded, and started for the door. When he got there, Luca didn’t move so he could leave. Instead, he stared him down, blue eyes like chips of glacial ice.

  “We’re here to keep the house secure from outsiders, carnal,” he said. “Not to create trouble between family members. That kind of gossip will only get you in trouble here. Got it?”

  Eduardo’s nod was reluctant. Luca moved out of the way, then watched Eduardo disappear down the hall before he stalked across the room to pull Isabel into his arms.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It’s not here,” she said, her voice shaking. “The computer isn’t here.”

  He took her face in his hands. “Are you all right?”

  She hesitated. Was she all right? Would she ever be all right? Would she ever be able to be near a man who wasn’t Luca again and feel safe? She didn’t know. She nodded anyway.

  “I’m fine.”

  Luca looked at the door to the study. “That guy’s trouble. Let’s get out of here.”

  35

  “Want me to take care of him?” Marco asked Luca.

  Luca had told him about finding Eduardo in Diego’s study with Isabel. He’d left out the stuff that was important to him — that Eduardo had touched her, that Isabel had been terrified in spite of her denial. But Marco had gotten the picture. Now they were walking the property in the dark, supposedly continuing their security assessment, but really just trying to ensure themselves some privacy.

  “No,” Luca said. It was tempting. But the name of the game now was to lay low, keep drama at a minimum, give them time to regroup and come up with another plan for finding the video. “Let’s just keep things low key for now.”

  Marco laughed. “When you said you were taking a job as a bodyguard for some kid, I thought you’d be on easy street.”

  “You and me both,” Luca muttered. It wasn’t like he was happy about the situation, but if he hadn’t taken the job, he wouldn’t have found Isabel, and he was starting to realize that she was the best thing to ever happen to him.

  “These people are all kinds of fucked up,” Marco said.

  “Tell me about it. Although I think we should qualify that statement by making it about Diego. Isabel and Sofia are his victims.”

  “And they’re not the only ones,” Marco said. “I talked to Elia, had him dig deeper into Diego Fuentes’s background — and into Eduardo and John’s, too.”

  “And?” Luca asked.

  They passed through the shadows at the periphery of the property, and Luca was glad for the excuse to let down his guard for a minute. They were just two men, making the rounds. Casual conversation was to be expected. But being around Diego was making him paranoid, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Diego saw mutiny in the most innocent of their actions.

  “John checks out. You were right; he worked for Thomas in Ireland under Raneiro. But he’s not any worse than the rest of us. No indication of sadism or unusual violence. Nothing like that fucker Dante, that’s for sure.”

  “And Eduardo?”

  “Well, Eduardo�
��s a different story. He worked for the Columbian cartel.”

  “Lorenzo Sanchez?” Luca asked, surprised. It was common in most businesses for people to move from competitor to competitor. But their business was different. They were in the business of violence, of trust and betrayal. It was one of the reasons Luca had taken the job with Diego — same skill set, different business. Add to that the obviously heated conversation Diego had about Sanchez on the phone during their ill-fated dinner, and it was doubly odd that Diego would trust Eduardo.

  “Yep,” Marco said.

  “Interesting,” Luca said.

  “I thought so, too.”

  They stepped back into the light cast by one of the spotlights, then continued to another shadowed section of lawn just beyond the reach of one of the cameras. Luca stopped there, wanting to finish their conversation before they continued to the house.

  “You think Eduardo could be a mole for Sanchez?” Luca asked.

  “More likely the other way around. I don’t see Diego letting one of Sanchez’s men on the inside without a thorough vetting.”

  “Which means he has some kind of incentive for having Eduardo here,” Luca murmured, rubbing the scruff at his chin.

  “Exactly,” Marco said. “And I’m betting it has something to do with information for sale.”

  “It would explain why Eduardo already seems to be Diego’s favorite puppy,” Luca admitted.

  “That’s my thinking, too,” Marco said.

  “Any idea if he left the Columbian operation voluntarily? Or even officially?” Luca asked. “Maybe he’s still on their payroll, although that would be a dangerous game to play.”

  “Hard to say. You know how it is.”

  Luca did. The cartels were like the Syndicate. You didn’t resign and you weren’t fired. The only way out was in a body bag. Luca had been lucky — thanks to Nico — that things had shaken down the way they had with the FBI’s sting on the Syndicate.

  “But safe to say he’s not one of us,” Luca said.

  “I think that’s safe to say,” Marco said. “Think he’ll rat out Isabel to Diego?”

  “I don’t know,” Luca said. “But at this point, I think we should be prepared for anything.”

  36

  Isabel was getting dressed to take Sofia to school when something started to pluck at the back of her mind. She paused, staring at herself in the mirror, trying to put her finger on the thought that seemed to dissipate into the air like vapor. It was like having a word on the tip of her tongue, and she stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, trying to figure out what it was. But it wouldn’t come to her, and she finally shook her head at her reflection and went to make Isabel breakfast.

  After she and Marco dropped Sofia off at school — they were playing along with Diego’s game by allowing Marco to do the things Luca had once done when he was her personal bodyguard — they headed back to the house. The sun was bright in her eyes, and she flipped down the visor, catching sight of herself in the mirror.

  Not her reflection. That’s not exactly what caught her eye.

  It was the necklace she’d chosen to wear that morning. Crafted out of tiny black pearls, it had belonged to her mother, and she had a sudden flash of memory: her father, just after her mother’s death, talking to Isabel in his bedroom. Isabel had been about eight — about Sofia’s age — sitting on the big bed while her father spoke in soft sad tones.

  “The people we love stay with us forever, mija,” he said, crossing the room to a painting by Portocarrero. “We hold them in our hearts, always.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Her hands were small and tucked into the skirt of a flowered dress.

  “But sometimes,” he said, removing the painting from the wall, “sometimes we’re lucky enough to have something extra to remember them by.”

  “Like what?” she’d asked.

  “Do you remember your Mama’s birthday?” her father asked, ignoring her question.

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” Isabel said, proud because she did remember, even if it was kind of easy.

  “That’s right, nina.” Her father was spinning something with his hand, and a moment later, she saw him open a door in the wall. He turned around and walked toward her with a smile, and that’s when she saw that he held something in his palm. “That’s what this is, Isa. Something extra to remember your mother. I gave her this necklace when we were married. She would want you to have it, but you must be very, very careful with it. Treasure it, wear it close to your heart, and think of her when you do.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Come now,” he said. “Let me put it on.”

  And now she understood what her reflection had been trying to tell her. She turned to Marco, driving the car in silence.

  “We have to hurry. I think I know where the computer is.”

  He looked over at her. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve never been more serious,” she said.

  “Say no more,” he said, his hands tightening on the wheel as he stepped on the gas.

  She sat in tense silence as they made their way back to the house. How could she have forgotten the hidden safe in her parent’s room? Did Diego know about it? And what if she was wrong? She tried to temper her excitement, just in case, but instinct told her she was right. Diego had no way of knowing that she knew about the safe. The moment with her father had been a private one, and she’d never mentioned it to her brother. If he was worried about her finding the computer, the safe would be the perfect place to keep it and would serve the dual purpose of keeping it out of reach to anyone else who might be snooping.

  It was much more secure than a flimsy lock on a desk, and she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner.

  Luca was standing outside the door to Diego’s study when they stepped into the house. They approached him cautiously as the sound of breaking glass, followed by the hard thunk of something being thrown against the wall, passed through the big double doors.

  “What’s going on?” Marco asked softly.

  “He’s losing his shit,” Luca said.

  “Why?”

  Luca shrugged. “No idea. But he’s drunk and high, so get Isabel upstairs and keep her out of sight.”

  “Wait!” she said. “I know where it is!”

  Luca glanced at the study door, then took her arm and gently guided her to the foyer. “What?”

  “The computer!”

  He furrowed his brow, and she had to resist the urge to reach up, smooth the worry from his face. “Where?”

  “My father has a safe in his bedroom. I just remembered it today. It’s behind a painting.”

  “Why would Diego keep his computer in your parent’s old bedroom?” Luca asked.

  “Because it’s his room now,” she said. “It’s there. I know it."

  Luca glanced back down the hall as more glass broke from Diego’s office. “He’s on a rampage. It would be better if we waited until he was out of the house.”

  She shook her head. “There will never be a perfect time, and you said it; he’s losing it. He could go off the deep end any minute. We need to find the video and get Sofia out of here.”

  Luca glanced at Marco. He shrugged.

  Luca sighed. “Where are John and Eduardo?”

  “I have no idea about Eduardo,” Marco said. “He’s Diego’s pet. John’s got the day off.”

  Luca hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll stay down here, try to head him off if he goes upstairs. You guys go. But hurry.”

  Isabel nodded and hurried up the stairs with Marco on her tail. Now that she had remembered the safe, she was in a hurry to get to it. Once she had the video, there would be nothing to keep her here. She and Sofia would be able to make a clean break, with none of this ugliness hanging over their heads. Would Luca go with them? She didn’t know. But she realized for the first time that she really hoped he would.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Marco said when they got to the doors leading to Diego’s suite of roo
ms. “It’ll give you another layer of delay if Diego comes upstairs.”

  She stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek. He was quiet and a little gruff, but she’d grown to like and trust him. “Thank you.”

  She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  It was both the same room she remembered and a different one. The walls were still pale yellow, with a paint treatment that made it look like old plaster. The windows still looked out over the Atlantic, spread out like a sapphire blanket in the distance. But Diego had changed the furniture, getting rid of the big, carved antique pieces that had dominated the room back when her parents had occupied it in favor of sleek modern pieces with little flourish. They looked odd in the room, and she was suddenly glad Diego hadn’t bothered to redecorate the rest of the house. She wouldn’t have liked the worn surfaces and weathered patina to be traded out for something shiny that wouldn’t match the old world tile and the art her father had spent a lifetime collecting.

  The room was clean — no doubt thanks to Lorena, the housekeeper who came in on quiet feet once a week — although the closet doors were open, and Isabel glimpsed Diego’s shirts and trousers lined up like waiting soldiers in the shadows.

  But the art was the same, and her eyes moved from the old landscapes to the portrait of her mother (how could Diego bring those women here to their mother’s room?) to the Portocarrero she remembered from childhood. It was vivid and expansive, done in bright pinks and greens with a woman in a sea of swirls, almost as if she were made up entirely of a maze.