Navy SEALs Complete Series: 3 Books + 3 Novellas (Tempting Navy SEALs) (123 page)

“There’s always the chance you could be rescued, Tehya. If something like that happened, we wouldn’t stop searching for you.”

Her lips twisted at his promise. “Perhaps you could, but not before he allows my half brother to breed me. You see, it’s not love that drives Sorrell to find me. He chose the woman to breed his child with, hoping it would be a daughter. He chose her specifically for her bloodlines, her character, and her strength. He wanted a daughter, a half sister for the son he bred for the same qualities. I won’t be raped by my brother, not even for a chance at escape.”

I
AN GAVE TEHYA A GUN
. His backup weapon, small and compact, but it didn’t take a large gun to commit suicide.

Ian filled Kira in on the confrontation between himself and Diego as well as the fact that Diego was aware of Durango team’s involvement. She learned that Diego was also questioning Ian’s plans once Sorrell was taken care of.

When they returned to the villa, Ian cleared the servants from the house, sent them back to Palm Beach, and placed a complete lockdown on any transmissions into or out of the villa that he didn’t make or take himself.

Fuentes soldiers were positioned around the grounds, but none were inside the villa. Deke, Trevor, Cristo, and Mendez were busy securing the room to be used for the meeting, and Diego was sitting in the living room alone, a glass of whisky in his hand, the bottle at his side, though it didn’t appear he was seriously drinking the liquor.

“Ian.” He came to his feet as they entered the foyer, the bodyguards still surrounding them protectively. “Garcia was here moments ago. He asked to speak to you regarding the additional men sent to the warehouse. I was not certain how you wished to handle them.”

She felt Ian’s hand tense at her back as he sighed roughly.

“I need to take care of this,” he told her, brushing her forehead with a light kiss as he stepped away. “I’ll leave Deke and Mendez with you. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

She nodded, watching as he moved toward the back of the villa, his tall, leanly muscled body tense and prepared for battle.

When he disappeared into the back hall, she turned to Deke and Mendez. “Why don’t the two of you go on to the kitchen and eat,” she told them, aware that they had missed lunch while she met with Tehya.

Deke stared back at her, his gaze flat before glancing back at Diego. It was obvious he didn’t trust Ian’s father, and she couldn’t blame him much.

“If you need us, just yell,” he murmured.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

Deke and Mendez didn’t hide their reluctance to leave her, but they did anyway. As they headed into the kitchen Kira stepped slowly into the darkened room.

“Saul isn’t with you?” She looked around the room as Diego watched her carefully.

“I sent Saul back to Colombia to oversee the estate there several days ago.” He shrugged, his face shadowed as she moved to the chair across from him. “He is old. This is not the place for him.”

As he resumed his seat she watched as he gripped the glass of liquor between his hands and stared into it as though he weren’t certain if he should drink it or throw it.

“Saul was your father’s advisor, wasn’t he?” she asked.

She was taking advantage of this chance to talk to him, free of Ian’s disapproving gaze or the bodyguards’ obvious curiosity.

Diego smiled fondly at the question. “He and my father, they began the cartel. Saul was his most trusted friend. He returned to help me after Carmelita’s death.”

He hadn’t mentioned his youngest son, but then she had heard that he didn’t.

“Ian, he has completed this promise he made to me quickly,
has he not?” Diego asked then. “I asked him to return to rid me of this problem that Sorrell represents. I did not expect him to do this so quickly.”

Sadness filled the monster’s voice.

“He’s very competent,” she agreed as she leaned forward, gripped the decanter of whisky and one of the extra glasses on the table.

As she poured, she was aware of Diego’s eyes on her, his gaze thoughtful.

“You remind me much of his mother, Marika.” Diego sighed. “She had spirit as well. But a spirit filled with grace. She was a lady. You too have this.”

She looked up as she returned the decanter to the table and leaned back in her chair.

“His mother is a very strong woman, she’s had to be. I take that as an incredible compliment.”

“As well you should.” He nodded. “It was meant as one.”

He sipped at his drink then, his expression still though somber, his position relaxed. It wasn’t a relaxation that bespoke confidence though, it was more wearied acceptance.

Kira sipped at the smooth, expensive whisky and continued to watch him, wondering what caused the small frown between his brows, and realizing that Ian had much that same look when something was bothering him.

“Ian frowns like that when he’s thinking.” She shared her thought, offering him a small smile as he lifted his head in surprise.

“He reminds me much of myself, sometimes.” He nodded, a small, subdued smile tugging at his lips. “He is a good man. A man to be proud of.”

Kira nodded rather than speaking.

“He has no pride in his father,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “No pride in the world I have built for myself nor what I represent. He calls me ‘pop,’ thinking I am not aware of the condescending meaning behind it. He believes I do not know that he came to me, not for who I am, but for that which I can give him. Sorrell.”

He tossed the drink back then reached for the decanter and poured another.

“What did you expect, Mr. Fuentes?” She was careful to keep her voice gentle, without judgment.

He nodded slowly. “I should be angry.” He lifted his eyes to flash a quick look at her, mocking self-disgust lining his expression now. “I should be angry with my father, with Carmelita for the hell she caused him and Marika. I should be angry with my father for the deception that stole Ian’s mother from my arms. Why am I not angry, Miss Porter?”

He watched her as though genuinely confused by this.

“Perhaps I have grown weak?” he asked then. “I am growing old, my youth is gone. Perhaps this is what comes of a man realizing his chances are gone. When I was young, there was always next year to fix those things I thought I should fix. Next year to atone for the deaths of my brothers. Next year to rail at Carmelita for more children. Next year. Always next year, until one day I awoke to learn that next year could not fix those mistakes I had made.”

Shock held her silent now. This was the monster? This man, not broken, not weak, but realizing the choices and the consequences of his life.

“You killed your brothers,” she said quietly. “Their wives, their children, because they wanted out of the cartel.”

“Is that what you think? That I took those lives simply because they would betray me to your American government?” He laughed at that, though the sound was bitter. “How I wish it had been so simple. That my treachery and blood thirst was so blackened by evil.” He shook his head. “No, Miss Porter, I killed in an act of rage. The explosion that destroyed the home I had given Marika, I learned had been set because my brothers had betrayed her location to my enemies. This I was told, and in my grief, I took all they held dear as well, before killing them.” He shook his head then. “I should have known better. I should have seen that the madness that was affecting my father at that time couldn’t be trusted.”

“Your father told you they were the reason Marika was dead?”

“He told me that my brothers were aligning themselves with our enemies, and it was true that they were. It was only later that I learned that it had not been my brothers who betrayed Marika’s home, but Carmelita. She did so after my father went to Ian’s mother, told her of the business of the cartel, told her that I was vile, deceitful, and all but wed to another. He told her I would kill her once our child was born.”

He moved quickly from his seat, paced to the other side of the room, and tipped the glass to his lips.

“So many mistakes,” he whispered once he had consumed the liquid. “So many times I wished I could go back.” He shook his head then. “I see my son, grown, a man of honor slowly dying inside as he runs this business.” He set the glass on the low marble-topped table beside him and ran his fingers through his unbound hair, keeping his back to her as he stared at the curtained window. “It is almost finished, is it not? He will leave when Sorrell has been dealt with.” He turned to her, staring at her questioningly.

“Ian hasn’t revealed his plans to me, Mr. Fuentes. He hasn’t said one way or the other.”

He nodded again. “He will leave.”

Kira lowered her head, feeling the pain coming in waves from a man who suddenly seemed the least likely of drug lords.

“Marika, she raised a son to be proud of,” he said then, turning to face her once again. “A son to make a man regret, and to make a man wish he were strong enough to give his son the only thing he wants from his father.”

“What does Ian want from you?” she asked.

Bitterness tipped his lips. “My death, Miss Porter. Nothing would make Ian happier than to see me leave this world forever.”

“Or to see you stop feeling sorry for yourself before this meeting.” Ian stepped into the room, his voice low but
lashing. He strode to the decanter, poured himself a drink, and tipped it back before speaking again. “Garcia has the soldiers in place and everything’s quiet for now. Kira and I are going to rest until dark. Send Deke up to the room if you need me.”

Kira rose to her feet, hearing the cool, steady tone of his guttural voice, aware that he must have heard much more than Diego’s last statement.

“Of course I will,” Diego said, a shade of sarcasm filling his voice now. “I but live to serve you now, do I not.”

Ian’s jaw clenched as he glanced at Kira, then back to Diego.

“It seems to me that you just live to piss me off at times like this,” he growled. “I can’t afford to have you drunk, Diego. I need you sober and aware tonight.”

“You have never seen me drunken,” Diego snapped then. “Do not give your woman the impression that I am worse than what I am, Ian. I am no drunkard.”

“I didn’t think you were suicidal either,” Ian stated mockingly. “I hope you’d at least stick around long enough to see this through.”

Kira saw the anger glittering in Diego’s eyes then, the dim light from the foyer gleaming on the pitch-black of his eyes.

“I always see it through, Ian,” he reminded his son roughly. “If I do nothing else, I see all things through.”

With that, he stalked across the room, brushed by his son, and made his way quickly through the foyer.

Kira watched Ian as Diego left, the way his shoulders seemed to tense further, his expression tightening more.

“He’s not the only one that wants to get drunk,” Ian muttered. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t grip her wrist and drag her into the foyer and up the stairs. Instead, he stepped back to the doorway and watched her broodingly.

Kira moved ahead of him, taking the steps quickly and heading to his bedroom suite. She turned to face him once
again as he closed and locked the door, then waited until he stepped to the bureau, set his security, and stood staring at the electronics in the drawer for long seconds before closing it and turning back to face her.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, in the same manner that Diego had done earlier. The dark blond strands framed the heavy expression on his face, brushed his shoulders, and tempted her to run her own fingers through it.

“It’s almost over,” he said then, staring around the room before returning his gaze to her. “Almost over.”

She moved to him then, because he should have sounded triumphant, eager to see the finish, he should have been anticipating the end of this night, but she could feel his regret as well.

Not because he would be leaving the cartel, she thought. Instead, she felt the heavy knowledge inside him that things weren’t as he thought they were.

He wouldn’t say it, she could only pray he would realize it before the night was over, but she knew he was realizing there was more than the monster inside Diego Fuentes.

“I came here to kill him.” His voice was soft as he stared back at her. “He was going to rape those girls he kidnapped. He drugged them, one of them died. He allowed his men to rape another in front of her father. He tortured Nathan. He’s killed, destroyed lives. He won’t stop. Letting him live won’t stop the hell he spreads.”

Kira inhaled roughly. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to relieve the pain that he wouldn’t admit even to himself that he felt?

“Ian—”

“Son of a bitch, Kira.” His expression twisted, his eyes burning. “I see what he wants me to believe, but I know what he is. He’ll never stop. That fucking whore’s dust he created has destroyed women. The videos he made from them. Those were innocent women. Women who had nothing to do with his games or this world. Those girls he kidnapped. The blood he’s fucking shed.”

He swung away from her as she felt the first tear fall from her own eyes. She saw what Diego wanted to be, and Ian saw what he was. The contradiction would tear Ian apart if he let it.

“It’s not your place to kill him,” she reminded him. “Arrest him. Take him in, Ian. Let DHS deal with him. Don’t place this on your soul.”

She moved to him, her arms sliding around him as she laid her head on his back. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t let him destroy you too.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands pressing against hers, holding them close to his body before he turned, surrounded her with his hold, and laid his cheek against her head.

“It’s my responsibility,” he said, his voice heavy.

“No—” she tried to protest, but his finger pressed against her lips, his tortured gaze locked with hers.

“I have to do what I came here to do,” he told her. “He’s not my father, Kira. A father doesn’t murder. He doesn’t allow his men to rape sixteen-year-old girls, and he doesn’t torture good men. That’s not a father, that’s a monster.”