Page 49 of Devil Mine

Bringing the phone up to my ear, I answer.

“Valentina.”

“Where are you? I stopped by the house to do my check in with Turo but he wasn’t there. Diana told me you were both gone.”

Diana is my housekeeper and house manager. I’ve known her for years; she’s part of the staff who came with me from Colombia when I moved to London.

“He’s with me. Something came up,” I answer, keeping it vague.

“Is this really the time for you to take a holiday?” she asks, misunderstanding. Irritation seeps into her voice. “We have more pressing things to deal with, Thiago.”

My eyes narrow, my voice dropping to icy levels.

“Careful, Valentina.”

She sighs. “Lo siento.” She sounds tired, weary beyond simple sleeplessness. “I’m on edge. I feel like I should be doing more.”

I take a breath and work to reign in my temper. Valentina is, or was, my sister’s best friend. She was with Adriana the night she disappeared; she’s the one who’d convinced her to go toFirenzethat night.

They’d danced and drank and partied until Valentina whispered in her ear that she had to use the bathroom. She told Adriana she’d be right back and to get shots for them while she waited.

She was in the bathroom for less than ten minutes.

When she came back, Adriana was gone.

Valentina never moved on from that night almost a year and a half ago. She blames herself for making my sister go out, for leaving her. It eats at her even more than it does me.

When it became clear that Adriana was dead, Valentina refused to let the cartel handle the retribution without her involvement. She came to my office every day demanding that I let her work for me.

I refused time and time again, not because I didn’t think she was capable, but because I knew it was a business that would get her killed. Valentina grew up with my family from the time she was a toddler, so she’s like another little sister to me. I had, and continue to have, a responsibility to keep her alive.

A couple of months after the kidnapping, we had to rescue Vale from a confrontation in a bar with two Armenians. By the time we got there, she’d rendered one unconscious but the other was about to kill her. We intervened just in time.

I tried to get her to see sense, to get her to stop and protect herself and let me and my men find Adriana’s killers, but she told me to fuck off in not so many words and got herself stabbed a week later in another confrontation.

When it became clear that she was going to get revenge with or without my blessing, bringing her into the fold of the da Silva cartel became the only way to keep her safe.

She’s flourished since and is one of my most trusted soldiers and advisors, but to this day I still have to spend an inordinate amount of time making sure she doesn’t get herself killed.

Which is why I always answer the phone.

Valentina’s continued survival has become a proxy of what I should have done for Adriana. I should have protected her, saved her, but I failed.

I won’t fail again, with herorTess.

“We’re making progress, Vale. There’s nothing else for you to do. We’ll find him soon, we’re getting close.”

“So, what? I’m just supposed to sit around twiddling my thumbs, waiting for you to come back from whatever side mission you’re on right now?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re not here to stop me,” she challenges.

I give my own world-weary sigh, massaging my temples with my free hand. Sisters, even adoptive ones, are impossible to deal with. Especially the ones who know how to shoot a gun and are reckless with their lives.

“Go find Fabian,” I instruct. “He’s down in the death room.”

The death room is a padded, soundproofed section in the basement of my home where we carry out interrogations and executions of captured prisoners. My house acts as something of a base for some of our operations in the city and the death room is a perfect place for extracting information without being disturbed.

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