Page 25 of Reckless Woman

“You need a ride?”

He shakes his head. “My car’s parked over on the next block.” He takes a cautious step toward me. “When Dante asks about this, tell him we met because of the rumored hit on Rick.”

“No problem.” Dragging my thoughts back from dark places, I wave the red file at him. “Viviana’s making chess moves I can’t read anymore, but I can’t take this to him without more proof. You know what he’s like. He’ll blow the back of my head off just for Chinese Whispering the word ‘conspiracy’.”

“There’s something else I haven’t told you.”

I pause. “Do I need another drink for this?”

“Probably. When Anna first met Viviana, she was up to her black eyes with the Fernandez cartel—”

“She owed them money,” I interrupt, tersely. “We know this.”

“Fernandez also had a new export agreement drafted with Vindicta before he died, and it’s even more bullshit. If we checked all of the business dealings of the formerLos Cinco Grandes,I’m betting we’d find a pattern.”

“Get to the point, Roman,” I say irritably. “I’m leaving in thirty seconds.”

He shoots me a frosty look. “Viviana told Anna she was in debt to the tune of fifty-thousand. Something about her cousin’s bar in Santa Perdida.”

“Manuel,” I confirm, remembering the brave young soldier who’d died protecting Santiago’s wife.

“There was no debt.”

It takes a second for his words to register. “What?”

“There was no outstanding money on that property. She lied. She sold it the day after Manuel’s funeral.”

“To whom?”

But I know what he’s going to say.

“Vindicta.”

My head is spinning. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that a multi-billion-dollar shipping corporation bought some shitty provincial bar inColombia?”

“The deal was brokered by Fernandez’s attorney. The paperwork is all in that file.”

I stare at him, sifting through the ground zero of his bombshells, but all I’m getting are twisted fragments.

“Did you ever study Latin in high school, Grayson?” I hear him say as I reach, blindly, for the door handle.

“No pussy, no point.” Yanking it open, I throw myself into the driver’s seat. “Italian, yes, French, definitely. But Latin? No woman wants to be seduced by a dead language.”

“Well, here’s something that’ll make you hard; ‘Vindicta’ is Latin for ‘revenge’.”

I pause, his insinuation hitting me like a slap to the face.

“What the fuck are you saying? You think something big is onto us?”

“Something or someone?” I watch him pop his elbow on the open door, my own concern mirrored in his face. “I’m not confirming anything at this stage. But it’s a strange name for a company, don’t you think?”

Chapter Nine

Joseph

I’m halfway to Teterboro Airport when Highway Patrol adds a splash of color to my nightmare in shades of flashing blue.

Glancing in my rearview mirror, I’m met with a wall of it, stretching out across every lane of the I-95. Even the cops want in on the action. Five seconds later, their sirens fill the air with angry wails, and I’m cursing Rick for not leaving his fucking playlist behind.

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