Page 20 of Crowned In Blood
Fernando had a habit of hiding things in odd places. It was the only reason I hadn't sold the mansion, or several other houses and buildings he owned. He kept records behind glass photos, USBs in vases. It was random, but it made sense in this line of work.
He had to have records somewhere.But the truth was it could take months, evenyears,to find a single piece of evidence tying him to human trafficking, much less find the girls he'd taken.
This wouldn't be easy. I had no point of reference. Alfonso and Benito had been Fernando's right-hand men, so when I'd killed them, I'd killed anyone who could tell me his secrets.
After several hours of searching and finding nothing, I hurled the book I was searching through, yelling in frustration.
The book crashed into a stack I'd looked through and discarded, but the loud, chaotic bomb of noise catapulted me back in time.
Suddenly, Fernando was there, his ugly, depraved face with a wide, cruel smile as he pinned me down. His heavy weight pushed me to the ground, leaving me unable to move. His fat fingers twisted in my hair, lifting my head, slamming it down, triumph shining in his eyes.
I panicked, unable to breathe. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. The world tilted as I crashed to the floor, gasping for air. I was stuck living out this nightmare until he was unconscious, then I could finally pull myself free.
When I came to, tears poured down my face. The room spun as I crawled under the safety of the large wooden desk. I wrapped my arms around my knees, curling into a ball.
"He's dead," I whispered, trying to pull in air, trying to calm myself down. "He's dead. He's dead. He'sdead!"
I screamed the words over and over until I finally stopped shaking. Then I wiped my eyes and bit my lip in anger over being so weak.
Why? Why after everything that I'd gone through, after all the trauma I'd endured, did I keep having these flashbacks? Why hadn't they gone away? It had been six months. I'd achieved so much, so why couldn't I let that go? Why was I stuck reliving that nightmare?
I gripped the edge of the desk, using it to help me as I slowly stood. The answers to those questions didn't matter now. I had to shove them back, into the deepest parts of my mind. People were counting on me.
I won't fail them.
In the end, I was the victor here. I was in control. I had escaped my father, survived Fernando, and I'd built a new life. Like a phoenix, I'd risen from the ashes, and I refused to let anyone hold me down, includingmyself.
Taking a deep breath, I looked around the office. I'd need to come back to continue the search. But that was enough for today.
I'd go home, recollect myself and think things over. Maybe there was a simpler way, a connection somewhere that could lead me to the information, or perhaps I could make a new connection myself.
I'd need to see what other mafia familias had ties at the borders and overseas, but the important thing was I would succeed. No matter how long it took, I would find them, whatever the cost.
That son of a bitch, got whatever he wanted, no matter who we asked for help.
7
Marco
Isettled into the plush leather seat of my private jet, awaiting take-off. Italy took longer than expected, but I was finally heading home. After we ascended, I pulled out my cell phone and opened the email in my inbox.
A picture of Catalina filled my screen. Smiling in predatory delight, I traced the outline of her wind-blown hair, gorgeous face, deep brown eyes, and cute nose to her beautiful lips that I longed to taste. My finger followed the graceful curve of her neck and I let myself get lost in the fantasy of what my hand would look like wrapped around it.
I imagined how her golden, tanned body would feel beneath mine, the face she'd make writhing in pleasure. What her moans sounded like, the way she'd come. Would she be quiet, lost in her throws of ecstasy, or would she scream?
I wouldn't be doing my due diligence if I didn't keep her coming until she did.
I shifted in my chair, fixing the erection in my pants.
I remembered the day I first laid eyes on her. She stood beside her father, her hand raised in an expected princess wave that didn't quite reach her eyes.
To the crowd, she was the fortunate daughter of a powerful man, but to me, she was so much more.
My mother was a De La Rosa, a tight-knit family known to practice witchcraft and mediumship in The Underground. They had an uncanny way of protecting their own, believed everything happened for a reason, and their visions werealwaysright.
As a child, my mother had taught me to trust my intuition. She promised I would need to, especially as heir to the Torrino Mafia Famiglia. It was those instincts that told me to look closer at Catalina, to truly try to see through her façade.
I studied her, observed her. There was no denying her beauty and intrigue. But her intelligence was unmatched. She was determined, far stronger than the fragile thing her father presented her to be. And wild like a tempest, capable of great things and destruction.
