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“We’re not sure about much at this stage, but the traffickers admitted targeting the Russo girl and taking Lexie as a bonus.”
The espresso maker hisses in the background, and I imagine him with his back pressed to the countertop, his features pulled tight.
“You know the difference between men and boys, Rafael?”
I roll my eyes, because it’s too damn early for this shit.
“Well, do you?” he demands.
How could I forget? You drilled it into my head for years.
“A boy follows his dick, wherever it takes him. No peripheral vision. No questions asked.” He pauses. “A man doesn’t follow. He leads.”
I feel like a teenager being lectured for sneaking a girl into my room. But the truth is, Antonio would say this very thing if he walked in on Lexie and me as adults. It’s what he would have said the night of Valentina’s wedding. The stakes are too high. You have responsibilities to things bigger than yourself. Put your dick away.
“I’ve been at this for too damn long,” he mutters. “I’m tired. I want to begin stepping back, but I can’t, until I’m certain you’re ready.”
“I’m not sure anyone is ever ready to take on the kind of responsibility that sitting in your chair demands. But I’m not a boy,” I add firmly.
“You are not.” Antonio sighs. “Cuidado, Rafael,” he warns in a somber voice. Be careful.
“Will isn’t the first irate father I’ve encountered.”
“I’m not talking just about Will. You disrupted a human trafficking ring. Interfered in their business. It’s a highly lucrative trade. Revenge is sure to follow. Keep your eyes open.”
“I don’t have a death wish,” I murmur. “My team is on high alert. As am I.”
“Don’t be too proud to ask for help. All of Huntsman Industries is at your disposal, including me.”
After we say goodbye, my head drops to the pillow.
My biological father was a monster, but when Antonio took me in, he gave me everything a boy needs to thrive and grow into the kind of man who can lead. Love, support, empathy, discipline, respect, time—the list is unending.
Antonio was in his twenties when I went to live with him. We had our share of struggles. He, as a young man rising to power, while learning to parent a kid who’d lost his mother and suffered years of abuse. Me, as a kid who had forgotten what it was like to be loved and cherished—to be anything other than a madman’s punching bag.
Despite all he had on his plate, Antonio gave me everything he had, and more, even when I became a rebellious teenager testing my boundaries and his limits. He was never afraid to lower the boom, but punishment never involved fists or a leather strap. Unlike my father, Antonio never laid a hand on me, unless it was to pull me into an embrace.
He’s right about the fallout. We disrupted the ring, and they’ll seek revenge. It’s likely to be big and splashy, a clear message to anyone even thinking about taking them down. It might not happen today, or tomorrow, but revenge will come.
14
RAFAEL
After I work out and grab a shower and coffee, I stop by Valentina’s apartment. Carlos, who relieved Sabio, lets me in.
“Ms. Clarke’s asleep,” he says, following me into the kitchen, where they’ve set up shop.
“Any problems?” I ask Giana, who’s in a chair at the center island, working on her laptop.
“None,” she assures me. “Ms. Clarke was cooperative.”
I’m sure she’s saving the arguments for me or trying to lull you into a false sense of security so she can bolt out the door when you turn your back.
It’s highly unusual to have two guards stationed inside an apartment on the residential floor of Huntsman Lodge. Normally we have guards stationed at each exit on the floor, and another outside the main elevator. When Valentina stays here without Marco, there’s a guard outside her apartment door as well, but no one inside. That’s because Valentina isn’t in the habit of ditching her security to meet up with traffickers.
“I don’t want to overstep,” Giana continues, “but since she’s not a suicide risk, would you consider allowing her to have the door closed—especially the bathroom door? She wanted to shower last night but changed her mind when I told her the door would need to remain open.”
The three cups of coffee I gulped down earlier are sloshing around my gut, painting every inch with acid. Before they left the club last night, I told Giana and Sabio that if I were them, I wouldn’t allow Lexie the privacy of closed doors. I said it so she would understand that skipping out was off the table—but mostly I said it to distract her from the awkwardness between us. Given the circumstances, I should have known the guards would take me literally.
