Page 80 of No Sweeter Poison

“I’m only trying to help you.”

“I wasn’t aware I was in need of your help.”

“You made enemies of half the families at that table. You realize that don’t you?” she asks. “Your family is weak. You spent the last five years trying to legitimize which means you no longer have the manpower or the resources you once had.”

“Easily replenished with money.”

“Loyalty cannot be bought,” she warns. “You’ll be outsourcing which means anyone can be turned. Five years is a long time, Alejo. The men who once served you might have families of their own now, new loyalties. There’s no guarantee you can hire them back and if you could, there’s the question of whether or not they even want to.” She takes a step forward, the space between us diminishing by a few inches. “And you were never the kind of man to rule by fear. You won’t threaten them because it isn’t in your nature. That’ll make you weak.”

I study her a moment. “What would Sandro say if he knew we were speaking?”

A hint of disgust colors her words. “There’s no love lost between the two of us.”

“Don’t say that. Sandro loves you.”

For all his flaws and whatever bad blood exists between us, I know one thing for certain: Sandro Sandoval loves his sister. He’s a son of a bitch in all other respects but he’d burn in Hell for Regina and they aren’t even biologically related. His love runs deep and true and it’s the one thing I simply cannot fault him for.

Regina’s demeanor shifts slightly from mastered disinterest to dimly concealed regret. “I think you know me well enough to know that I don’t love you anymore. And I know you don’t love me either. Sandro made sure of that,” she whispers. “But I’ll always resent him for coming between us. For the things he made me do—”

“You came between us, Regina. Don’t put all of that on him.”

“I came back. I asked you, I begged you to leave with me—”

“There’s no use reliving what’s already happened,” I say, bringing an end to this conversation. “You said you had something to tell me, now what is it.”

Discussing our past relationship makes me so profoundly uncomfortable I don’t have the words. It feels like a betrayal but of what and why I’m not sure.

She rubs her forehead, one of the very few tells she has. She’s about to tell me something she shouldn’t. “Ibanez and Montenegro are in Italy. A very small coastal town in Calabria called Briatico. It’s where Ibanez’s mother is from. Sandro doesn’t know yet but he will soon. I don’t know why you’re looking for them but I know that you are. Get to them before he does.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because…” She looks at me and her eyes never waver. “I like a fair fight. And Sandro’s playing dirty.”

D ahlia

I can’t stand the whispers.

For hours, I hear it coming from down the hall. Lettie, Alejandro, and Diego. Plotting, conspiring, whispering.

I haven’t moved from the dining room table since we got back. I’m not even sure how I ended up here—maybe Dimitrio told me to sit here, or Lettie, but I can’t remember. Doña Ana asked me if I wanted anything to eat before she went to bed but I told her not to bother. That was two hours ago.

I still can’t move.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it. A dagger in the darkness, the glint of metal in the light, a burst of red against clear glass. The man’s screams echo in my ears and I keep telling myself that one day, I’ll forget. It’s new and it’s fresh and I had no business watching what transpired in the first place. My curiosity got the better of me and I was convinced that in order to find peace, I needed to know what Alejandro was capable of. That maybe if I did, it’d give me more insight on the man I was living with, being held captive by, and that information would put everything into perspective.

It has only served to confuse me further.

At night when he holds me, they’re the gentlest hands I’ve ever encountered in my life. My father was a little loose with his and Mom never shied away from a chancla when she felt I was in need of disciplining. Yet those hands felt more dangerous to me than that of a murderer’s.

Does it even matter to me why that man was killed or am I more upset at the fact that I witnessed it? Does his death mean something or am I merely inconvenienced by it? The illusion I once had of Alejandro was shattered the moment he tore that man apart from the inside out.

I can no longer ignore the fact that he is a real and eminent threat. All this time I’ve held that knowledge at a distance because the only side of him he’s ever shown me are the tender glimpses allowed to Diego and Lettie on account that they’re his family and his vulnerability is safe with them. But that’s not who really is—at least, not all of it. He’s dangerous. He’s violent. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have people trying to kill him all the time.

And if this is the real truth of his character then what about when he’s with me? Am I safe from him or am I in danger because of him?

I can’t seem to wrap my brain around it. Nor can I reconcile the fear I feel with the plethora of other emotions swirling around inside my chest.

There’s a knock on the door that nearly sends me out of my skin. Diego steps inside.