Page 80 of Worth the Heat
Jesus fucking Christ.
Isabella’s hand flails against mine as she grips it tightly. I hear a shuddered breath, and I know she’s trying to control her emotions. Isabella has never been highly emotional. Out of all the Santo siblings, that honor goes to Arianna. But everyone has their breaking point, and I think we passed Isabella’s quite some time ago. “I’ve got you,miReina. Trust me.”
“I know,” she whispers.
Fernando waits for us at the front entrance, two thick glassdoors that lead into a stunning two-story foyer. A winding staircase creeps up the side, matching the white marble on the floors and walls. Everything is white.
“Wow,” Isabella breathes, and Fernando beams. He motions for us to continue through a regal dining room, featuring a glass table and twelve chairs — who the hell is he expecting to eat here — and into a gourmet kitchen that has Isabella’s mouth dropping open. “This is spectacular. Every chef’s dream kitchen.”
Fernando makes a show of pointing out every part of the space. An induction oven, restaurant quality espresso machine, and two massive refrigerators. The stove has eight burners, and a microwave only appears when a hidden button is pushed, making the appliance descend from a cabinet. He waxes poetic about a hot water tap near the stove, points out the three sinks spread throughout the space, and shows us the “mood lighting” that is color-coded and controlled by an app. Isabella is in awe.
We continue into a living room space, where Fernando encourages us to sit on a large sofa facing the windows, while he sits in a large chair to the side, which looks too much like a throne to call it anything else. Once we’re all seated, a woman seems to materialize out of thin air. She approaches us, sitting on the arm of the throne chair. Her gaze is narrowed on Isabella, and the animosity comes off her in waves.
“Settle,” Fernando says, tapping the woman’s knee. Like a switch is flipped, she blinks and smiles sweetly at us.
“Hello. I’m Maria. Welcome to our home.”
What the actual fuck.
I’m too shell-shocked to answer, so Isabella does. “Hello, Maria. I’m Isabella, and this is Sebastian.”
“I know who you are. You killed Diego.” The switch is flipped again.
“Forgive my wife,” Fernando says calmly. “Youkilled her lover.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Isabella says, her teeth clenched. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me? His finger was on the trigger, mine was on the safety. But did you just say lover?”
“Yes. We have an open marriage. In fact, I’d love to discuss —”
“Absolutely the fuck not,” I growl. Fernando’s grin is immediate. “We arenotin an open relationship.”
“A shame, really. Ten years ago you would have had no problem sharing a woman.” I growl again. He’s baiting both of us, because I’ve never shared a woman with anyone. That is not my idea of fun, and I certainly won’t share Isabella.
“I don’t believe Sebastian ever shared anyone with you,” Isabella replies quietly. “If you are attempting to get a rise out of me, it won’t work.”
“Oh? And how do you know this?” Fernando asks.
Isabella’s brown eyes find mine. “Because I know him, and he’s the most trustworthy man I’ve ever met. I know his heart. He wouldn’t treat a woman like that.”
Fernando grins like he won something. “It seems like Sebastian Garcia may still be the kind of man I remember. Now let’s get down to discussing why you’ve traveled all the way here from Eternity Springs.”
Isabella launches into a monologue about her relationship with Rick, finding him with her friend, and then destroying his apartment. She vehemently denies even seeing a bag of drugs on the counter, as well as denying knowledge about Rick’s side gig of distribution.
Fernando looks at me when Isabella has finished. “I understand you’ve come across video that shows another person entering the apartment before Isabella?”
“I have. We’ve guesstimated the height of the person to be only around five-five or five-six, leading me to believe it’s a woman.” I pull out my phone, surprised no one took it from me when we got here, and show Fernando the video. “The personenters through the front door using the keypad code. They somehow snuck out without being recorded.”
“Do you have any leads on the whereabouts of the young woman? Her name is Amelia, yes?” Fernando asks, smiling smugly as we both stare incredulously at him.
“Amelia? My best friend? The one I caught Rick with?” Isabella asks, and Fernando nods. “Wow. I — I had no idea. How long has Rick been distributing for you? When did Amelia get involved? How long were they sleeping together? How did you know it was her? They must have been doing this right under my nose. I guess I need to work on my situational awareness.”
“Amelia and Rick are currently on their way to Mexico, I’m afraid. A reunion won’t be possible, and I suspect your questions will go unanswered about their relationship. I will not be divulging any details about distribution, but I will say we’d suspected Rick of skimming off the top of deliveries for quite some time, so I had a hidden camera installed in one of the light fixtures of the kitchen. Someone was having a temper tantrum —” he says irritably, glaring at his wife, “— and changed the password to the server where the videos were downloaded. It took some time to find the footage, and I’d just been given a screen grab only an hour or two ago. Amelia took off her jacket, and I recognized her as the woman Rick had worked with.”
“Then why are we here?” I ask, suddenly angry at Fernando. Two hours ago, we were driving through Fort Collins. We could have been notified and gone home. This is complete bullshit.
Fernando shrugs. “You were already on your way. And once I learned you were accompanying Isabella, I decided I wanted to see you again, and determine if you’re still the stand-up man I remember.”
“Am I?” I snap. “I’m sure you’ll remember I’m not very fond of mind games.”
