The Debt: An Irish Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 2) Page 4

  I laughed because I could easily see Ximena coaxing everybody she came across to eat, eat.

  “They seem like very nice people,” I told Father Juan. “Like you. Thank you for your kindness.”

  He waved a hand at me, smiling at me with dark, liquid eyes and a gentle smile. “It is nothing.”

  Chapter Six

  Brooks

  I couldn’t ask Declan for his help.

  Anything I said or would say to him would get repeated back to Dad.

  But I needed somebody to buy time for me so I could find Daria and get her someplace safe. I had no idea where that might be, though. The island should have been safe.

  If Duncan was right and one of my security people were compromised, if one of them had helped Duardo get onto my island, heads would roll. Quite possibly literally roll.

  And if Daria ended up hurt…

  I had to bring myself back from the edge as I thought again about what Duncan had told me.

  He wouldn’t have gone down easily. I couldn’t blame him for this. No. I could. But I wouldn’t. He’d handled things exactly as I expected him to. He’d done his best to stay alive and made sure of the same for the people I employed. They were my people, and as such, it was my responsibility to see to their safety.

  I’d find out who’d betrayed me.

  But that could wait until later.

  For now, I needed to get back to the island and start my search for Daria. I had a few ideas of where she could have gone, but I needed to start at the beginning.

  Sean greeted me with tired, heavy eyes.

  Under normal circumstances, I might have made a quip about how married life was treating him, but I didn’t bother with it now.

  “Can you come outside?” I asked him.

  I’d waited for him on the porch. I couldn’t risk talking to him inside the house where Basilio Castellanos lived, even if my brother was temporarily staying there as well.

  My father didn’t let anything happen in his home that he wasn’t aware of, and I had no doubt that Basilio shared my father’s paranoia.

  Once Sean came outside, I started for the car I’d left at the bottom of the staircase. Halfway down, I looked at Sean and gestured for him to follow me.

  He rolled his eyes but made his way down the steps, absently scratching at his bare chest. He wore a pair of low-slung cotton pants, and I had little doubt that I’d dragged him out of bed when I appeared unannounced at the Castellanos estate.

  Oh, well. He’d get over it.

  I climbed into my car and turned the radio on, waiting for him to join me.

  The speculation in his eyes communicated his annoyance as he climbed in next to me and flicked a look at the radio, then at me.

  “I need you to handle Dad for a few days,” I told him shortly. “If he calls for me, I’m busy. I’m handling things in Miami. Whatever you have to tell him, but I need him off my case.”

  He squinted at me suspiciously. “Does this have anything to do with Daria?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “I already know that Basilio is pissed and I know he reached out to Dad. I guess Dad got a hold of you.”

  “Declan was here,” I said in lieu of a direct answer.

  “Shit.” He whistled under his breath and looked away. “I can’t lie to Dad about this, Brooks.”

  “I’ve covered for your sorry ass before,” I reminded him, my voice taking on an edge.

  He grimaced and looked over at me. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

  “Just do what you can.”

  “And what do I tell Basilio?” he asked.

  I wanted to tell him that Basilio could go get fucked for all I cared. But I wasn’t entirely certain where Sean’s loyalties lay in this matter. He was now part of the Castellanos family as well. His wife was the daughter of one of the most known names in the entire state—probably the entire country. While I wanted to think he’d be loyal to us first, I couldn’t be sure of that.

  “Don’t tell him anything. If he asks, you don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I don’t,” Sean said, his voice now as hard and sharp as mine.

  “It’s better that way.” I shut off the radio and climbed out of the car, effectively ending the conversation.

  Sean pushed open his door, an unhappy set to his face. Together, we started up the steps. “Any idea how long this will take?” he asked, voice low.

  “No. But I’m dealing with it as quick as I can.”

  He looked like he wanted to ask more, but the front door opened and Isabel came outside, wearing a tank top and pajama bottoms. She looked at us, from one to the other, then turned a dazzling smile on Sean. “Dad wanted to see you for a minute, honey. We’re eating breakfast out on the terrace in thirty minutes. You better hurry up so you have time to shower and dress.”

  She gave the door a pointed look.

  When Sean lingered, she waved him away. “Go on!”

  I suspected he very much wanted to stay, but whatever he saw on Isabel’s face convinced him otherwise.

  He headed up to the house, and Isabel continued down the stairs to greet me.

  “Brooks.” Her eyes no longer looked so bright and animated, the mask she’d presented to Sean falling away.

  “Isabel,” I said by way of greeting as Sean disappeared into the house.

  She nibbled on her lower lip, something Daria often did when she was nervous. I wasn’t used to seeing nerves from Isabel, though. She was bright, boisterous, loud, and normally very confident.

  But something had put her on edge.

  She took another step closer to me and tilted her head back to meet my eyes. “I’ve talked to Daria,” she said in a low voice.

  I barely kept from grabbing her. “When?” I demanded, mimicking her conspiratorial tone.

  “Yesterday morning. My father found out where she was. I told her to run.”

  I already knew that. I didn’t let on, though. Isabel was either risking a lot here or playing a game. I wasn’t certain which it could be.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it and gestured to the path that led off to the side of the house. “Walk with me a moment?”

  I wanted to get away from the prying eyes of the security people stationed around the house. The path was the most likely route to take to avoid them following us without us knowing.

  “Any chance your father has this entire place bugged?” I asked once we were far enough away from the house.

  Isabel screwed up her face, the glower on her expression mildly impressive for somebody as naïve as I thought her to be. “A few days ago, I would have asked if you were out of your mind. But now…” she heaved out a sigh and shook her head, “I honestly don’t know.” She was quiet for a moment, then in a sad voice, she added, “I don’t know a lot of things anymore.”

  “You’re talking about your family?”

  “Yes.” She looked away. “And Sean. You. All of this. Why didn’t I figure it out sooner?”

  “Because you love your family and never felt any need to look beyond the façade they presented. I don’t think your father wanted you to know.”

  Her face crumpled, and she turned away.

  I looked restlessly back toward my car. I needed to get out of there and get back to finding Daria.

  Isabel turned back to me, her expression calm now. “I overheard my father talking to somebody on the phone late the other night. He traced a phone call between me and Daria and was able to locate her that way.”

  “And you told her.”

  “I couldn’t. Not right away.” She made a face. “I tried calling, then texting, but there wasn’t any answer—not for hours anyway. I finally got hold of her yesterday and told her she needed to get away from wherever she was.”

  “Why?” I glanced toward the house, studying the two men who weren’t even trying to be subtle about watching me. Turning my attention back to Isabel, I asked, “Why would you betray your family like this?”

 
; Her mouth trembled for several long seconds, then she rallied, firming her lips and pulling her shoulders straight, suddenly more confident. “Because Daria is like a sister to me. She is family to me. My father, my brothers…they aren’t perfect, and I love them anyway. But I love Daria too, and I won’t let her get hurt all because some old bastard got upset when she didn’t want him pawing her.”

  “So, you know everything that happened?”

  She gave a curt nod. “Enough. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I did some digging around online.” She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment, then lowered it and looked back at me. “I don’t even know who I am now. Everything I knew growing up feels like a lie.”

  “Your father loves you,” I told her. “That’s pretty obvious.”

  She laughed, the sound bitter and jagged. “I know he loves me. That doesn’t make what he does—or what your family does—any more acceptable.” She gave me a hot look. “Yeah, I looked into the Downing family too. Dad kept talking about the expansions he’d be doing with Sean coming on board. I don’t know why I didn’t ever ask more about just what it was he did. Sales. Ha.”

  “Have you told Sean you know?” I asked.

  She gave me a miserable look. “No. I keep playing things out in my head. I want to yell at him for his lies, but every time I try to talk to him about it, the words just lock up in my throat.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Not as sorry as I am.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “Take care of Daria, Brooks. Please.”

  “I will.”

  I stood there for a few more minutes, watching as she walked back to the house. She mounted the steps and turned to look back at me. I gave a wave, then started for my car.

  I had to get to the plane.

  I needed to get to the island and find out what happened to Daria.

  Chapter Seven

  Daria

  Once the table was cleared, Ximena returned to our table, greeting other customers like family as she wove her way through the maze of tables between the kitchen and our booth.

  “Come with me,” she said in her bright, welcoming voice. “You can use the phone in the back.”

  As I got up, I caught sight of one of the customers studying me with too much interest. He sat at a table alone with a half-empty plate in front of him. The moment I looked at him, he averted his eyes and grabbed his fork.

  Self-consciously, I patted my knot of hair and looked down at myself.

  My clothes were still wrinkled and looked like I’d slept in them—because I had. I’d slept in them, sweated in them and worn them for more than twenty-four hours.

  I could use a shower and lotion and deodorant and a fresh change of clothes.

  My face heated with a wave of embarrassment, but I fought it down. It wasn’t like I’d planned to take off on this unplanned excursion.

  Ximena paused by the man’s table and snapped at him in rapid-fire Spanish. Even if I was slightly familiar with the language, I doubted I would have understood anything she said.

  The man held up his hands, affecting a look of innocence as he looked at Ximena. He then gestured to his food and responded back, although not as heated or fast as the kind woman.

  She made a disgruntled noise under her breath and walked past him.

  His eyes flicked toward me once more.

  Ignoring him, and anybody else who might be staring at me, I followed Ximena through a door and down a narrow hallway. At the very end of the hall, there were three doors. One was marked as a bathroom. The other door opened into a small cramped office. The third was a screen door that opened into a small, narrow alley. I could see into the yard of the building opposite that alley and saw a middle-aged woman hanging her laundry out on a line.

  Everything felt so surreal. Seeing her hanging up clothes like that reminded me of times when I’d helped Galina do laundry. In the winter, we hung the clothes inside, but in warmer months, we’d do just as that woman was doing, hanging the clothes on a line and using clothespins to hold them in place.

  “The phone is in here, senora,” Ximena said.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled pesos I’d taken from Brooks. “I want to cover the call. How much?”

  She looked like she wanted to argue.

  “Please,” I begged. “You wouldn’t let me pay for the meal.”

  She relented and peeled off a one-hundred-peso note from the handful I’d held out to her. I’d noted the prices written on the walls for food. Judging by what those items cost in America, I figured she’d taken about five dollars.

  I still had ten one-hundred-peso notes and three five-hundred-peso notes in my hand, and I returned them back to my pocket, patting the money lightly. Between the Spanish pesos and the American dollars, I figured I had a few hundred dollars in total. Not much, but better than nothing.

  Once Ximena left me alone in the office, I picked up the phone and dialed.

  The call didn’t go through.

  I started to panic, but then remembered I was calling internationally. I knew the US country code but had no idea of the numbers I needed since I was calling from Cuba.

  Worried, I studied a few of the invoices that had been left on the table. I skimmed them out of desperation, and my eyes landed on a phone number at the bottom.

  The number 53 was included.

  Hoping against hope, I started the call.

  When the phone began to ring, I breathed out a sigh of relief.

  He didn’t answer after two rings, and I squeezed my eyes shut. What if he didn’t answer?

  And then I heard the most wonderful sound. “Hello?” he said.

  “Brooks.”

  “Daria! Where the fuck are you? Why did you leave?”

  I shot a look at the door and edged a little deeper into the room. “I was trying to protect you. Isabel told me her father was coming after me, and I didn’t want to drag you into it any more than I already have.”

  He made a low growling sound in his throat.

  I blinked back the tears that had formed in my eyes at the sound of his voice. “It was stupid. I know it was. I know that now. I’m sorry. I just…I was scared Basilio would come and hurt somebody! I didn’t want that on my conscience.”

  “Duardo went to the island, Daria,” Brooks told me. “He roughed up Justine, Enrique, and Duncan. He was looking for you.”

  “Oh, no!” I pressed my fingers to my mouth, horrified. “I…I didn’t meet an Enrique but…” I thought of the quiet Justine cooking for me in the kitchen. I didn’t know what to say. “Are they going to be okay?”

  “Justine and Duncan will be fine. Enrique is my groundskeeper. He’s older and has had heart issues before. He’s in the hospital in Havana getting treatment. We’ll have to see how it goes with him.” He paused a moment, then added, “This isn’t your fault. It’s Duardo and his men. It’s Basilio. It’s not you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the continued burn of tears. “It feels like it’s my fault.”

  “It’s not. Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

  His tone was firm, making it clear he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than an answer to his inquiry. I couldn’t really call it a question—it had been a flat-out demand. But I wasn’t going to argue. I was in over my head and had no resources. I needed help.

  “I’m in Cuba, in Santiago de Cuba. I went to a church, and the priest brought me to a restaurant.” I told him the name, then spelled it out because I suspected I was butchering the pronunciation. “They fed me and let me use the phone.”

  “I’ll find the place.”

  He must have lowered the phone because I heard him talking in muffled tones. I couldn’t make out anything more than Cuba and how long.

  I had no idea where he was coming from.

  “I want you to stay there,” he told me, coming back on the line. “It will take me a few hours to get there. Will you stay put?�
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  I all but collapsed in relief. “I’ll stay put.”

  We talked a couple more minutes.

  Brooks asked if I was okay, if I’d been hurt. I told him no and assured him that I was fine, just a little sunburned.

  “Do you have any money?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I hesitated before adding, “I took it from the stash in your dresser. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m glad you took it. Order some more food and let the owners know you have a friend coming to pick you up. The Cubans are friendly. They should let you stay until I arrive.”

  “Okay.” I clung to the phone, knowing I needed to hang up, but reluctant to sever the connection between Brooks and me. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Hell, yes,” he said, his tone flat. “But I’m trying not to be. None of this is anything you brought on yourself. I know you have to be confused and scared. I just want you to trust me from here on out. Will you do that?”

  In a small voice, I said, “I’ll try.”

  “Good.” His voice softened, and he murmured, “I’ll take care of you, Daria. I’ll take care of this. I’ll figure it out. Just trust me.”

  “I will. I do.”

  “I have to go. I’ve got to work out the travel plans. I’m already on the plane, but now we have to make some adjustments to our route. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Be safe.”

  His words, exactly what Isabel had said to me, echoed in my ear as I disconnected the call.

  I sagged against the desk as I returned the receiver to its cradle.

  “It will be okay,” I told myself. Brooks was coming.

  I just had to wait until he got here.

  I heard a creaking sound from behind me and turned, watching as the screen door opened. I looked away and focused on calming down. I had to be calm when I went back out to the restaurant. Otherwise, Ximena would hover, and if anybody hovered over me, I just might break down.

  After a few seconds, I felt somebody staring at me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and slowly, I lifted my head and looked at the door once more. Shock was like a sucker punch to my face.