Page 4 of Reign

I briefly register the shock on both of their faces before I stride out of the room, the familiar swish of my tactical pants, and the loud stomp of my heavy boots, the only sounds.

I need to look around the rest of the house both inside and out, check for any surprises, and check in with Mateo. The girls may have the luxury of being pissed and falling apart, but I do not.

As I’m making my way out of the kitchen into the adjoining living room, my eye catches movement out back by the pool.Now that’s a pool.The massive veranda and small yard are fenced in by a white privacy fence before a gate and set of stairs that leads down to the beach. The pool is shaped like a giant kidney bean. It’s been done well with a slope that leads to the shallow end next to the beach. In fact, from here, it looks like the water runs right into the white, stucco pool house. Two different water features create a jungle effect with a waterfall and a swim-through made of stone. A man is rolling up a hose on the side of the little house and is trying to tuck it into a brown outdoor storage bin.

I step out of the French double doors onto the pool deck, eyeing the man warily. “Hello. I’m Casandro. My wife and I just bought this place,” I inform him, hoping he takes the hint and introduces himself.

He nods but says nothing as he continues on about wrangling the hose.

“Can I help you with something? Did you work for the previous owners?” I was sure Mateo would have people watching the house, but now that I live in it, I’d like to choose my own caretakers.

“Yes. And he assured me I’d still have a job with the new owners,” he says, almost challenging me. He’s got a tan, presumably from working outdoors every day but beyond that, the color of his skin tells me nothing of where he’s from so I move on. His eyes are as unremarkable as his face. I walk over to him holding out my hand in greeting.

“Yes, of course. Nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand, albeit reluctantly. Up close, I notice the star tattoo he has on his neck. When he answers me, I also notice that his incisors on both the top and bottom of his mouth are crooked.

“You too. I’m Adam,” he finally says, at least giving me a first name while he tries to hide the fact that he’s mentally measuring me up. “The information for lawn care should be in a packet on the kitchen table. Let me know if you have any questions. I come out three days a week: two for the lawn and one for pool maintenance. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Like clockwork.”

I can’t place an accent because he has none. His speech is virtually neutral which is kind of freaky, actually. He’s wearing an A to Z Landscaping and Pool Maintenance t-shirt and khaki utility pants.

I nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

He makes no move to say anything else as he places the hose – now in a nice circle – easily in the bin and moves to sweep three leaves from a nearby bush off the concrete. I appreciate a man who is dedicated to his job, but this guy might be taking it too far. Realizing I’m not going to get anything else out of him, I make a note to let the girls know he’ll be here and to keep their eyes and ears peeled.

I do a preliminary scan of the massive house for the tell-tale signs of cameras – of which there are several. I’ll need a frequency scanner and a few other things before I feel comfortable letting my guard down here. The one thing it doesn’t have though, is a thousand other people milling around. I don’t miss that about any of recent residences.

Overall, the house is beautiful. Modern, with sleek lines on the inside but classical Mediterranean with a terra cotta roof and black iron railings around each of the bedroom balconies on the exterior. The rooms are all done in white, reminding me of Mateo’s house and his influence is easily seen here. Its light and airy and in stark contrast to both the old-world fortress I just left as well as the place I called home for the last eighteen years. There is a mix of light pine hardwoods, white marble and stone flooring throughout the house with plush rugs in front of the fireplace and in all the bedrooms – of which there are seven. The living room has recessed lighting on a dimmer, and large open windows that overlook the pool and the ocean just beyond that. Being so close to the water appeases me a little but not nearly enough. A large flat screen television is mounted over the fireplace in the living room and oversized gray couches create and intimate area. It feels like it has potential to be ahomewhich is nice… until I see it.

In the middle of the ceiling, hanging down, is a globe light. It would be pretty if I weren’t certain there’s a 360-degree rotating camera inside. They make a very faint whirring noise as they rotate and no one else is down here right now, making it slightly easier to hear. I don’t look at it for long, just a passing sweep. I’m not yet sure if I want Mateo to know I know it’s there, even though it’s an insult to my intelligence if he thinks I’d overlook that.

It isn’t until I hit the master bedroom that I find the safe. Against the back wall of the closet is the large bank-style vault. Mateo told me it was here but he didn’t offer blueprints or even a rough sketch so we’re on our own to find everything we need. He gave me the combination before we left but withheld the contents of what was inside, choosing to say only that it’d have what I needed. As the door swings open, my eyes widen. It’s stocked with expensive firearms, scopes, silencers, alotmore cash and several envelopes I need to sort through. I unload our new passports, credit cards, and cash into the safe before pulling out one of the envelopes.

It’s a dossier on Nikita Orlov. Several other sheets contain information on the house and the staff that maintain it. I quickly scan for Adam’s name and picture just to make sure, but am not surprised – or terribly relieved – when I find it on the second page.

Grabbing the dossier in one hand and my tequila in the other, I head back downstairs to settle into the opulent office I found earlier. As I pass by one of the bedrooms, the door is closed and I can hear water running.

For some reason, I assume it’s Libby. I’m happy for her to have space to process and blow off steam, but if she thinks she’s sleeping anywhere other than with me, then she’d better prepare for a fight she won’t win.

From the bottom of the stairs, I can see into the living room. Camila is standing in the middle of it, one knee resting on the ottoman, trying to get the remote control for the T.V. to work.

Remembering the globe hanging from the ceiling, I walk over to her. Leaning down I whisper, “Don’t look up, but there’s a camera in the light above us. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to take it down or let it stay because I don’t want to set off any alarms for Mateo, but just be aware.”

After having some idea of just how far he’s able to reach, he’s not a man I want to piss off. If what he said was true and the Bratva won’t come after us, then he has friends inreallyhigh places and I’d rather not get any unnecessary visits.

“Sharing secrets already?” Libby says in a sarcastically sweet tone as she enters the living room towel drying her hair confirming my earlier suspicions that it was her in the spare room’s shower. She must have made a trip to the master bedroom closet though because she’s wearing shorts and a white,I heart FLt-shirt. There was a whole wardrobe in there for each of us. I never really thought a tourist t-shirt could be considered sexy, but the way it fits her makes me want to spend a lot of time loving Florida, although right now I need to think with the head above my belt, so I shove the thought aside.

Having enough of her attitude, I set my drink on an end table and spin on my heel, stalking over to her, my anger and frustration clearly visible on my face. Seeing she’s gone too far, her eyes widen.

Good.

She should be scared. I’ve hit my limit. I’ll give her time and space but that doesn’t mean she gets to be a raging bitch. It’s time to get this under control.

Grabbing her by the upper arm, I yank the towel out of her hands, toss it on the couch, and lead her out back as if she’s a naughty child in need of a spanking. “Camila, we’ll be back in a few minutes. Could you put something together for lunch? I’m starving.”

Trying to prove that her obedience is greater than Libby’s, she smiles at me seductively. “Sure, Dom.”

Libby growls and it’s then I realize…Forget Nikita Orlov.These women are going to fucking kill me.

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