Page 325 of The Black Trilogy

Come on, Eduardo.

Just before six, there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to find one of Eduardo’s men standing there. Usually, I’d just follow him to the car, but this time, he motioned me back inside and closed the door behind us.

Silently, he handed me a mobile phone, and I held it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Emerson?”

“Well, yes. Who else would it be?”

“I got word that you’d died in a home invasion. I need to make sure it’s really you before inviting you to my estate.”

“Fair enough. I can understand you might have a few questions, so shoot. Not literally,” I hastened to add, eyeing the bulge under his pet gorilla’s jacket.

Eduardo’s proof-of-life questions were like those asked in a kidnapping—things that would only be known by us or our closest acquaintances.

“What is the other name you use when you come to visit me?”

“Lauren Bailey.” No hesitation on my part.

“And what was the problem you helped me with many years ago?”

“Frost.”

“Good answers. Can you pass me back to Javier?”

I passed the phone over, and after listening to further instructions from his boss, Javier led me down to the waiting limousine. I was used to this now, so I settled in for the ride.

After a small delay due to an accident ahead of us, we arrived at Eduardo’s. I knew my way around after all this time, so I walked ahead of Javier into the entrance hall. The golden elephant was long gone, as was Eduardo’s fourth wife. I didn’t know what happened to her. I didn’t want to know. Eduardo was on his sixth now, and this one had an obsession with fresh flowers. The almost overwhelming smell of roses permeated the room, and I stifled a sneeze.

One night when we’d drunk too much aguardiente, he’d confessed the only woman he’d ever truly loved was Camilla’s mother, but he thought she was too good for the type of life he led. Once he completed his education, he’d left her and Camilla behind in the United States and returned to Colombia, where his father required him to take over the family business.

“This wasn’t a life for her,” he said. “I thought America would be safer for them both.” Years later, his voice still caught when he spoke about her, and it was evident how much he cared. Now, he tended to marry shallow women who he quickly tired of and traded in for a new model.

Would wife number six be any different? Only time would tell.

A few seconds after I arrived, the man himself walked out to the car and embraced me in a tight hug.

“My sweet angel, I thought you were gone,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I’d always been ‘angel’ to Eduardo. I’d never asked why. Was it because I helped him with Frost? Or because of my normally blonde hair?

“Someone tried to kill me. They didn’t succeed, needless to say. That’s what I want to talk to you about. I need your help.”

“Anything for you, angel. We will have dinner, and you can tell me everything. It was short notice, but Alejandro is making something nice.”

We ate outside on a softly lit terrace, classical music playing quietly in the background. Once the food was laid out, Eduardo’s staff melted away, leaving just the two of us.

“What happened, child?”

I started from the beginning with Black’s death, glossing slightly over my little break—or rather breakdown—in England and finishing off with the events of two nights before.

“What makes you believe I can help?” he asked.

I laid out my theory about the attacks being connected to the drugs trade, and then it came to the moment of truth. “Before the last member of the team died the other night, he gave one of my colleagues the name of the man who sent them.”

“Under duress?”

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