He turns, gesturing to one of the twins. I can barely tell them apart after all these years, but think it’s Benny who reaches into a small messenger bag slung over one shoulder and pulls out a thin laptop with an adapter dangling from a port.
Arturo takes it and sets it on the rolling table by the patient bed, powers it on, and attaches the flash drive to the adapter. He turns the table so that only he can see the screen, but I’ve already seen what he’s looking at and can gauge which specific piece of intel he’s viewing when he pauses and clenches his jaw. For a man as inscrutable as Arturo, the small tic may as well be a scream of rage. It disappears just as quickly, then a moment later, I’m positive he got to the section with photos of the leverage Zavala has on me.
He lifts his gaze from the screen and meets my eyes. For a second I’m sure what passes between us is empathy, but neither of us would ever admit to it.
“César Zavala is going to need proof this was delivered before he gives the rest. It’s what I would do,” he says.
I nod. “I have to bring that drive back to him with some kind of written assurance that the deal is done added to the files, along with copies of the paperwork approving his brother’s release. There had better not be any holes in that data or he’ll know. He’s counting on enough people learning what’s on this to keep us honest.”
“Everything is still there, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how important it is that no one sees this who doesn’t need to. You’re heading to Denver next.” It isn’t a question, which gets my hackles up because I don’t actually answer to Flores anymore, but he isn’t looking at me. He closes the laptop, detaches the flash drive, and hands it to me. “Even though they rely on me for intel on Amador, I can’t be the one who delivers this to the Feds.”
“I never planned to let you keep it,” I say, taking the drive and shoving it back into my pocket.
“I’m sure you understand it’s in my interest to make sure you complete this assignment.” At a nod from him, the twins step up behind me. Baz grabs my shoulder, and I shoot him a glare that makes him back off with hands raised.
Turning back to their boss, I cross my arms. “I’m not one of your dogs, Flores. You saw the drive. You know I have a stake in this too. I don’t need any more incentive to get this done, so you’d better believe I’m taking care of this personally. What you can do is make sure that they’re expecting me and grease whatever wheels or palms you need to so they say yes.”
The old man smiles. “If there’s one thing I appreciate about the Santos men, it’s their ability to commit to a job. Even your younger brother seems to have developed the same work ethic. I don’t think your father has any other value, but at least you inherited that quality.”
I’d love to punch the smug look off his face—as if he has any right to condescend to me about my own family. I know what we’re made of, and exactly how much influence Dad had on how we turned out. But no matter how much I hate the bastard who gave me his name, how I feel about him is none of Arturo’s business. Still, I can’t keep my mouth shut.
I jab a finger at the door. “That woman lying in a coma down the hall is the only reason my brothers and I wound up with any redeeming qualities. She’s the one who deserves the credit. Not Dad.” I turn to my brother. “Can I borrow the keys to your place? I need to catch a flight later, and I’m pretty sure I’ll raise an alarm if I try to get through TSA looking like this.”
He shakes his head. “Sam and Elle are crashing there, so it’s not the best place for you to show your face.” His gaze shifts between Arturo and the twins. “But most of my shit’s at the Flores estate anyway. If you want to borrow some things to pack for your trip, you should head up there.” He reaches into his pocket and holds out a set of keys, but Arturo waves him off.
“Elena is at the house. I can call ahead and let her know you’re coming. If you don’t mind waiting, you can ride home with us.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I say, “but I have an errand to run first.”
6 Mason
I park the bike a block down the street from my old house, adrenaline already a sickening rush through my veins. The street is quiet. A few of the houses have holiday decorations in the yard, though ours is limited to icicle lights strung above the front steps. Just beyond the front window the lit Christmas tree twinkles, its merry color belying the monster I know is somewhere within those walls.
I shouldn’t be here, but after the conversation with my brother, an irrational need has been monopolizing my mind—the need to do more than just change my name to distance myself from my father. There are too many men like him in the world, and if I’m going to be the man I should be after this assignment is over, there’s no room for a man like him in my life. I need to destroy his connection to me, to my siblings, and to my mother. And there’s only one way to do that.
If I know him, he’s probably swimming in the bottom of a bottle right about now. Just in case he isn’t, I
