Page 18 of Devil's Bride

“Hunt down the son of bitch I met with. Detain him from heading back to Turkey. Instead, I think I’ll send him straight to hell as a message.”

Kruz grinned. “My pleasure, my lord.”

CHAPTER 6

Genevieve

“This is risky,” Emiliano said from beside me.

“Almost everything worth doing in life is,” I answered. I was a nervous wreck.

“He’s an MMA fighter who owns a club. They eliminate some enemies with underground fights.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He knew I had some martial arts training, but many MMA fighters followed no rules. Still, it was noteworthy.

The afternoon couldn’t have gone any more slowly. I’d tried to weed through several files of corporate information and what few actual contracts were in place. While Papa had never chosen to call his business aSociedad Anónima, a public limited company, I’d been at a loss as to just how many of his lucrative operations were handled under the table.

At least my father had been an avid bookkeeper, even using traditional accounting software. That didn’t make determining the players any easier.

What I’d been shocked to see was that I’d been mostly wrong about his method of operations after my mother’s death. He’d continued making tremendous headway in overthrowing smaller powers, hiding his income and downplaying his activities. That had made his empire more powerful than anyone realized, including his own daughter. Why did I continue to have the feeling he’d been well aware he was teetering on a dangerous precipice, his death even imminent?

Everything was still muddled, something I couldn’t stand.

Besides, the grief had come in waves, the agony leaving me with difficulty focusing. I’d finally given it up a little after noon, also forgoing any food. Now my stomach churned.

What I had been successful in learning was how much my father had estimated the business to be worth, how much was in his at least six different bank accounts and even about stocks he’d purchased over two decades before. Now they were worth millions. While I wasn’t certain how to estimate the product that was obviously sitting in secure warehouses, I did remember some of what my father had told me years before.

At least I had a decent figure in mind in case Jago was brazen enough to offer me a buyout.

I noticed Antonio turned his head slightly. The soldier was paying attention to every word said. He was riding shotgun, a soldier I’d barely been introduced to tasked as the driver. Evidently, the young man my father had assigned to me hadn’t been good enough.

Everything by protocol. I’d need to figure out the pecking order somehow.

We were in a very expensive Cadillac Escalade equipped with bulletproof glass and composite armor for the body panels. My father had even bragged all his vehicles came with Kevlar or ballistic nylon tires.

With the highest performance engine possible, the huge SUV could outrun a significant number of vehicles on the road today. That didn’t mean we were totally safe.

Two other SUVs flanked us, yet they’d be forced to hang back once we reached the secure gates leading to the Torres estate. I’d read as much as I could on the organization, but as with any crime syndicate, what little that had been noted had been done with limited or unreliable information.

No one within any syndicate was foolish enough to allow their structural organization or how business was handled to be documented. My thoughts drifted to the60 Minutesstory and interview I’d watched on one of the Mexican Cartels. They’d all been wearing masks, fearful of being placed on the international most wanted list. I’d laughed at their secrecy, but in a few short hours understood the need.

“You need to be very careful, Madame Morales,” Antonio offered. “Jago Torres is a savage hiding behind sophisticated attire. He’ll cut out your heart before you feel any pain.”

“So I’ve heard. However, I would say you underestimate me, Antonio. Men only make that mistake once.” I’d learned how to bluff with the best of them from a favorite law professor. I could show no fear or any mercy easily, yet I doubted that would workwith a man consideredla parca o el carnicero sangriento. The grim reaper or the bloody butcher.

I shuddered from the thought of meeting him, let alone spending any time with him.

The driver glanced into the rearview mirror.

“Don’t challenge him, Madame Morales. He is an angry man.”

Antonio’s warning was duly noted, but I hadn’t agreed to meet with the notorious leader to act like a helpless female. I’d come to ensure Jago Torres knew my father’s business wasn’t for sale and certainly wouldn’t be taken.

I’d die preventing that from happening.

At least Antonio had been right about the overtures, yet Jago’s had been the only one I’d consider professional. At least two other organizations had already circled several of my father’s shipments like vultures.

I wouldn’t be able to grieve for long.

---