Page 4 of Defy

To Luis’ dismay, our mother appears uninterested. She cuts her eyes to him, the acid in her glare making him cower as he clears his throat and shifts from one foot to the other.

“I asked your brother to speak, Luis. If I’d wanted to hear the explanation from you, I’d have askedyou.”

I don’t bother to hide my smirk. It seems earning my parents’ favoritism may not be as hard as I’d originally thought and unfortunately, I’m going to need itandtheir trust if I’m to use this shitty situation to my advantage.

I fight the need to rub my aching shoulder as I rally against my mother, reestablishing the control. “Quite frankly, Imelda, if you want to know why I’m here, you’d better let Luis talk, because I can assure you that I have no idea why he chose to bring me back to this place.”

It’s a fine line…earning their trust and keeping the power. Kissing my mother’s ass would only prove that I’ve become like Luis. Instead, I recognize the need to push back the perfect amount. Let her see my strength and resilience. Defy her just enough to make her realize that regardless of my abandonment eighteen years ago, I’m back andIam the better man to rule this family.

Only then can I tear it down.

Luis, looking satisfied at my recognition of him as the storyteller, starts the tale of what happened.

I only had one number memorized and I wasn’t even sure it would work anymore, but Antonio answered on the second ring. It took me damn near twenty minutes to convince him I was really me but eventually he passed my message on to Luis.

Luis continues, “Antonio gave me a number to call from the encrypted line and told me that he’d verified that Dominic was on the other end. When I called back, I heard an interesting story and Dom was in trouble. I thought about leaving him,” he slides me a sly glance, “the same way he did to us, but then he said something that was too good to be true.”

He pauses longer than necessary for dramatic effect and finally our mother snaps, “Out with it, Luis, preferably before I’m one hundred.”

“Dom was with Elizabeth Baker and her Dutch boyfriend was planning an attack to get her back. They were trapped and needed help off the island of Aruba.”

All at once my mother’s tired, hazel eyes go wide, stretching the wrinkles at the corners. Her thin lips separate creating a small “O”, indicating her shock once again. How is it she knows these names?

I’ve barely spared my father a glance up until now, but his eyes match hers, and his face is devoid of all color. I wish someone would tell me why the fuck everyone cares about Libby.

The first thing my mother asks when her eyes snap back to mine is, “Who was she with?”

When I don’t answer her immediately, Luis literally jumps at the opportunity to share like an overeager kid in class.

“Willem Van den Tweel.”

My mother immediately looks at my father. “That deceitful bastard. When do you think he was planning on telling us?” My father just shakes his head before my mother throws out her next question.

“Where is Van den Tweel now?”

This time, I answer. “Dead.”

“You’re sure?” she asks, insulting my intelligence as well as my skill. I know it’s been a while, but she should know better. I narrow my eyes at her in response, not justifying her question with another answer. Her gaze shifts to my bleeding shoulder and she nods her head. “Is that where that came from?”

“Yes. Which reminds me, I could probably use some stitches, if it’s not terribly inconvenient,” I snarl, knowing I need to reign in the sarcasm but it’s going to take practice.

She doesn’t acknowledge what I’ve said. “Does anyone know it was you that killed Van den Tweel?” The panic in her voice has me curious.

“I’m sure they do.”

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, but says no more. I can’t tell if she’s relieved or if I unknowingly set some other chain of events in motion.

I guess only time will tell.

The weight of my own tactical vest is starting to fatigue my core as my body’s energy focuses on the blood loss in my arm. I finally allow myself to shift on my feet as my discomfort and impatience settle in.

“So, let me get this right,” my father speaks for the first time as he stands. He’s still the powerfully built man I remember even at sixty-five, although he seems a little shorter and leaner. Considering most of my physical genes come from him, this is good news for me. “You fled almost twenty years ago and you’ve been hidingseventeenmiles away? This whole time?”

That strikes a nerve.

“I wasn’thiding.” Not entirely true. I was young and powerless when I left and at least in the beginning, I was definitely hiding. “And yes. I was only seventeen miles away.”

“And then,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken, “When you get in a pinch, the first thing you do is call your brother to come save your ass, despite the fact that you abandoned him to take over your role when he was only ten-years-old?”

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