Page 90 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

We never made it back to see our guests.

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I watched Sailor sleeping, tucked in my bed, facing me, and I finally found my peace. She had filled my thoughts since that night we danced in La Reina eight years ago. I wanted her then, and now I finally had her.

She balanced me. The passion that brewed between us burned hotter than anything I had ever experienced before. The two of us lost in the throes of passion left us alone in this world where only we existed.

Nothing and nobody would take her away from me again. Gabriel and Sailor were family.My family.The kind I didn’t have, neither with my father nor my brother. Only with my mother for a few short years.

My mind shifted back to my brother’s funeral. The last time that my father held something over me.

I stood outside of the church and nobody paid me any mind. It was no surprise. I had been invisible, the just-in-case son since I was born. And I was perfectly fine with it. I had been hiding in plain sight, always undetected because I did my own things in the shadows.

And now, with Vincent gone, this was not the scenario I had imagined for myself.

The reporters lurked in front of the church, waiting for a glimpse of me. To see if it was true, that I was the heartless killer of my own brother. I might have been heartless, but I wasn’t his killer.

As I headed toward the entrance of the church, reporters swarmed the area like flies on shit. Vincent and my father thrived on it. I fucking hated it; just as I hated them. They made a deal with the Tijuanas and trafficked women, allowing them to dock at our warehouses. Even more, they thought to double cross the old Nikolaev. No fucking wonder Vincent found himself dead. Brother or no, the sick fucker deserved it. I’d seen what he had done to some of those women he smuggled in. Branded them. Dug their eyes out of their sockets.

My father was a sadistic bastard, but Vincent took it a few notches too far.

Microphones were shoved in my face. Everyone wanted a goddamn statement. The reporters would kill to get an exclusive. So I guess they weren’t much better than us.

“Raphael, is it true you don’t have an alibi for the night of the murder?” one reporter shouted.

“Mr. Santos, did you order a hit on your own brother?” My fists clenched, but I never broke my stride and my face was blank as I pushed my way through the crowd. By the time I reached the heavy wooden doors of the church, everyone’s shouts were nothing but white noise.

Accusations didn’t matter. Regret did - that I let Vincent get away with too much. That I didn’t bother looking into what he was doing or the deals he was making until there was such a stain on our family name, it would take gallons and gallons of bleach to clean it off.

Gripping the ornate door handle, I swung it open and crossed the threshold of the church. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t burn down.

“About fucking time you showed up,” Caine greeted me with a grumble. “Your father is on some kind of rampage. The priest is pissing himself, scared to start the service.”

“He better change his clothes before he starts the service. Nobody wants to smell that shit.”

Caine settled his gaze on my face and the multiple wounds scattered around it. I didn’t look my best. I could still taste the metallic tinge of dried blood on my tongue. I knew by now I sported a few black and blue bruises and I had a deep cut on my forehead.

“What the hell happened to you?”

I just shrugged. There was no sense in going into the details of my encounter with the Tijuana Cartel who were picking up a shipment in our warehouse. Bottom line, I broke the agreement. Fucked up a few of their guys, killed the rest and got the women that were shoved into a container like cattle out of there.

Cassio and Luca had them now. They’d get them to safety.

Motherfucking Vincent. I had no illusions that my father knew about it too. It was one business my grandfather never touched. It was one business we should have never touched.

“Your father will give you shit when he finds out.” Yeah, he was stating the obvious there.

Caine folded his arms, glaring at me. It was one of the reasons we were good friends. He gave me shit the straight way, giving me his honest opinion. Whether I wanted him to or not. That was rare in our world.

“For fuck’s sake, Raphael. I know you’re pissed.” He lowered his voice so nobody else could hear us. “Now that he’s gone, you can make changes. Your old man can’t stop you.”

“He’ll try.” Fire blazed in my chest at the images of women I had seen. “But he won’t succeed.”

He nodded. “Just play the part. Blindside him.”

It was easy for him to say. He didn’t witness what I had. I could tell which women Vincent had sampled in that bunch. Every single one was left with one scar or another. It made my stomach churn. If he was still alive, I might have killed him myself.

With a terse nod, I moved further into the church, only to be assaulted by an overpowering scent of flowers. Hundreds of arrangements and wreaths lined every pew and corner of the church. I wondered if it was to hide the evil stench of the man who laid in that casket. Or the one who sat in the first row with his head bowed.

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