“You’ll need to go right back in there if you don’t tell me you had something up your sleeve other than lights out and a surprise attack. Wait a second, how did you manage that part?”
“My crew. I’ve been working on this for a while. I know every part of that building. We had control of the separate breaker box and generator dedicated to that unit. We got past the signal block the old school way, a man with a very good microphone up on the roof. Thank goodness Richard lived in the penthouse. They just waited for the magic words.”
“Pater familias. What is that?”
“A Catholic school girl who doesn’t know her Latin?” he scolds.
I twist my lips and it comes to me. “Family father?”
“Father of the families. It’s an old Roman term. Ironic enough to be appropriate.”
“How did you know he wouldn’t just kill you right away?”
“His pride wouldn’t let him. I knew he’d want to milk me for at least some information, then make me sweat. Time has always been on my side.”
I nod, deciding I’d rather just thank the lucky stars working in our favor for once than try to pick this apart too much.
“So what now?” I ask, not sure what I’m even referring to. What now between us? What now for him and his “career?” What now for dinner? Frankly, it’s no surprise I’m hungry.
“I have my answers. It’s time for you to get yours, Leira.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight Leira
My father is not pleased.
Been there, done that. This is nothing new for me. The only thing that has changed is that I’m no longer that girl in a woman’s body who was sent to an island convent only a little while ago.
This woman has seen some shit.
And she no longer tolerates any shit.
Enrique, next to me is also changed. Gone is the cynical outlook on life, a life that now has meaning beyond seeking revenge from his father.
Richard Coleman’s many crimes are now being thoroughly investigated. So are those of his known clients, known thanks to an anonymous tip with some very thorough records including names and accounts and routing numbers to various Luxembourg banks.
The focus will no doubt fall on one Constantin Papadopolous, who, for some reason, had an unusually large amount of money sent to him only recently. That was the last of Enrique’s substantial share of money stolen over the years, which he no longer wanted anything to do with. All the better to cut ties with the man who killed his mother.
We’re here in Los Angeles in my father’s study, the same place I so often met him with my tail tucked between my legs after being caught in one scheme or another. This time I’m seated in front of him, legs crossed and back straight.
“We both have a right to know everything, Dad. I think we’ve deserved it. How did you know Richard Coleman?”
“You think just because you run off to Spain together, you have a right to make demands? Do I even want to know what you were up to over there?” The hard look he gives me turns to granite as he shifts his gaze to Enrique.
“Probably not,” I say.
Dad’s eyes snap to me with anger.
“But it’s none of your business.”
His brow lowers, and I can see the fury building. “And yet you think you have a right to know mine?”
“We almost died, Dad,” I say softly. “My mother and two sisters were killed. Enrique’s mother was murdered. So yes, I think we do have a right.”
He holds firm for just a few seconds before sighing and nodding his head. He settles back in his chair and looks off to the side in thought. “I suppose you are right. Secrets are the cause of most of this trouble.”
He sighs again and turns back to us. “I will tell you everything. Then, after this, I will never speak of it again. What happened in the past deserves to be laid to rest there.”
“I’m fine with that,” Enrique says, focused hard on him.
“Me too,” I say.
Dad nods, then begins speaking.
“My success in Mexico, long before moving to America, is not exactly as I told you, mija. I was…involved with the drug cartel. A minor player, I simply got paid to look the other way at the hotel I worked at when negotiations were taking place. This was long before the business became so nasty with such extreme violence. But I could see the writing on the wall.”
I cast a glance to Enrique, whose eyes remain on Dad, but I can see the hint of a gleam in them as he smugly signals how right he was back in that hotel in Ibiza when I told him about my father.
“Then, when I tried to start my own businesses, they blackmailed me into using my stores to help launder some money. I thought selling the stores and taking the money to America would give me a fresh start. But it followed me in a far more grand way. Richard Coleman was the one to reach out to me, using my vulnerable status as a temporary resident as leverage. One call to INS about my less than savory history, and I would not only be deported but put in prison first.”
Dad’s face grows angry. “So I continued to work for them, shipping drugs throughout Latin America.”
Dad’s eyes look off to the side again, and now there is a hint of a smile on his face. “Then, I met your mother. It was at a charity event for the Catholic Church. She was…not only lovely but good and kind-hearted. The most beautiful soul I had ever met. Even her name reflected that, Linda…pretty. I was…enamorado.” The smile grows on his face. “She was not so easily sold. My money and influence meant nothing to her. She had no idea what I truly did for a living. But she did bring me back to the Church.”
“When she finally responded to my affections,
