ENRIQUE
So, it was a matter of figuring out a way to get the company without Olivia knowing about it.
She was against it too, just like her father was, but in this case, she was a way more formidable adversary.
I chuckled.
She was a spitfire, and in another dimension, I was pretty sure she and I would have been something.
I picked up my phone and shot her the address to my home right before Rachael called to mention that there was someone here to see me.
She tagged it as "the man from before."
Liam.
"Let him in," I told her.
I reclined in my seat and waited for him to come right up.
He walked in, his face way better than it had been the last time we saw.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I know you were at the office today," he said.
"And?"
"And I know you want the company."
"It would be lovely if you get to the fucking point, Liam."
"I need a job, and in return, I will help you get it."
So, he was out of a job… good.
But he had to think me a fool if he assumed I would give him a job in my company and trust him to help me get the company. And Enrique Garcia was no fool.
"You have some nerve coming back here, Liam. How is your face?"
His eyes flashed in alarm, and I could see the fear enter its depth.
"You are the only competitor out there, and I… the truth is I…" He sighed.
"I am wasting my breath, aren't I?"
"I am glad you have that realized."
His eyes hardened as he rose.
"If you think Olivia is going to hand over her inheritance to you because you are fucking her good, then you are a fool."
I gave him no reaction.
"Lord knows I would have gotten her pregnant, made her my woman if she allowed me to touch her for one day."
"Leave," I snarled.
He backed away from me as quickly as he could and slipped out.
I reached for the telecom.
"Make sure Mr. Anderson is not allowed on the property ever again. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, sir," she responded.
Fucking… I ought to have the motherfucker killed just for the fun of watching him choke on his own blood but first cutting his tongue.
If she had let me touch her…
Surely, that did not mean Olivia was a virgin.
I was sure she must have—
It was none of my business.
My phone trilled, and I was glad for the distraction.
"Enrique," I heard Tomas' scared voice.
"Are you okay, Tomas?"
"You need to get me out of here," he muttered.
He was crying.
I could hear noise in the background.
It sounded like our father.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Locked up in my room. He is fucking crazy, Enrique. He is going to kill me."
"I will put a bullet in his skull long before he ever lays a finger on you," I told him. "I need you to calm down."
"Is it done? Is the plan underway? I did my own part."
Yes, he had.
I had asked him to contact Drew and report some illegal construction operation that Olivia's father was involved in, and he had.
There was no illegal operation, of course, but it did not matter.
Drew owed our family a favor since we helped him get rid of evidence of his corruption in the force. He would do anything to pay us back because he was well aware we still had it should in case he decided to stray.
"I am on it, Tomas," I gritted my teeth.
"I need to get out of here." My brother's voice quivered.
"And I will get you out; you know I will."
I heard him sniffle.
"I am sorry for bothering you like this."
"You will never be a bother to me," I stopped him.
The line pinged after he said a soft goodbye to me.
I felt rage fill my veins as I dialed Drew.
"Hello."
"Your next words should be good fucking news, Drew," I growled into the receiver.
"Enrique," he sputtered.
Something told me he was not alone with the way his voice drastically lowered.
"I am not in a good place right now," he whispered.
"Then find a good place, Drew."
I heard some clatter and silence before the line cleared, and he spoke again.
"I am looking into the information you gave."
"I am sorry; I do not think I heard you correct, Drew. It seemed like you said something about looking into information?"
"Yes, no… the thing is… listen, Enrique—"
"It is Mr. Garcia to you," I snapped.
"Mr. Garcia… I am sorry… I cannot just accuse Robert Baker of illegal dealings without proof. My superiors will not take lightly to—"
I chuckled, effectively cutting him off.
"Tell me, Drew… do your superiors know you are involved in dealings with the Galician mafia of Spain?"
"No," he muttered.
"And do they know you have corrupt dealings that miraculously have not seen the light of the day due to a cover-up by someone in the mafia?"
"They do not."
"Now, tell me again how it is that you think it is in your best interest to be useless to me?"
"I am sorry—"
"Your apology means nothing to me," I cut in. "Get it fucking done, or I will be looking for someone else who doesn't give stupid fucking excuses all the damn time. You have twenty-four hours, mi hombre, and this is me being fucking merciful."
I hung up and then dialed my father.
He picked up on the third ring.
"You promised me you will leave him out of this," I snapped.
"You better know who the fuck you are using that tone of voice with, boy."
"You promised me you will leave Tomas out of it!"
"Your brother needs to stop being a coño and man the fuck up."
"You know damn well he is not cut out for that life."
"What life? You mean the gangster life? It is either this, or he is dead with a bullet wound to the head. Then he is out, and he is forgotten. Now, I know you want him protected, but the only way he is going to be is if he does the protection himself and stops hiding under your skirts."
I ground my teeth against one another, resisting the urge to curse at him.
"He needs to be trained just as you were."
"I will be dead before I let Tomas go through what I did, Father. Keep him out of this, and you will get what you need here; I will make sure of it."
My father said nothing, and so I hung up.
I glanced down at my hands, one holding onto my phone and the other onto the table in front of me in a vise-like grip.
I had been trained, alright.
Kept in dark rooms and made to starve.
My father had called it a toughening of the body and sharpening of the mind.
He wanted to be noticed by the mafia… wanted in on their circle, and he had.
It was the reason our mother was dead… a bullet wound to the head that had been ruled out as suicide, but we knew better.
The last hold on my plan was Olivia's father.
It was now Olivia, I admitted.
I hoped it would not come down to choice, but if it did, then she was going to have to forgive me.