Page 38 of Crowned In Blood
I picked up my suit jacket, then paused at the door, turning back to her. "Think about what you want for lunch tomorrow."
She shook her head and laughed. "I should have known you couldn't last a day without bothering me."
"Of course not. I'd follow you to the end of the world just to do so."
11
Catalina
Irubbed my burning eyes and slumped back in my chair. I'd spent days combing through the files Marco handed over, but there was nothing here to implicate any of the families with direct ties to the port or Canadian border.
I felt like I was constantly sinking, being crushed under the weight of my life until I could barely keep my head above water.
I'd worked tirelessly, driving myself to the brink to find anything, to no avail. I'd even come to the club closest to the port tonight, in the hopes Fernando had stashed something away here, but there was nothing.
I'm so tired of coming up empty-handed.
According to the accounts I'd gotten from the few parents willing to speak to me, the trafficking started almost six years ago. Meaning, some of the children taken were now grown women and any photos their families had wouldn't help.
The only thing I could rely on were timelines and accounts. According to my investigations, Fernando had not integrated a new family in around two years, but that didn't mean he'd stopped trafficking. There were records of large deposits I couldn't reconcile until the day he died.
Still, I'd been running this familia for over half a year, and no one had approached me to continue any deals Fernando had previously put in place.
If his partner was still involved in trafficking, why hadn't they reached out to me or tried to establish some sort of relationship?
And if Fernando had been willing to traffic women for money, there was no telling what else he might have done. The deposits could have been from any number of things.
Fernando was incredibly good at covering his tracks. His personal guards were indoctrinated at a young age. Groomed, supported, and invested in to produce loyal soldiers that only he could control. But some of them had broken free.
Every few years, some of his men had died randomly, and I assumed it was to cover Fernando's trail. Perhaps they'd gotten tired of keeping his secrets, or he crossed a moral line they couldn't forgive.
But based on all the research I'd done, the last two men remaining were the ones I'd killed on my wedding night.
Fernando's entire system may have been a ticking time bomb, destined to cave in at any moment, but it was perfect for obedience and control.
There was a chance someone else in my familia might know something, but I was still winning over their trust, and this was a difficult thing to discuss.
When I'd approached some of the parents, several of them became so hysterical they couldn't even speak. Others just changed the subject. Only a few could share their story with me, and even less believed I'd be able to find their children.
They'd given up hope. They'd had to. If not, they wouldn't have been able to continue living their lives. They would have been stuck, feeling just as much of a failure as I did now. And that feeling could crush even the strongest spirit.
Between that, my day-to-day activities which were challenging enough, the gala party and award ceremony for Naya's non-profit, her clinic's completion, and my own issues, I was falling apart, drowning in a deep void with no end in sight.
And then there was Marco.
He was constantly around, throwing me off balance with his flirtatious banter and unexpected gestures. He texted, called, and emailed multiple times a day. He stopped by to eat with me daily, even when he had nothing new to report about the trafficking or mafia families.
He was alwaysthere.In fact, I half expected him to appear out of thin air in front of me right now.
Marco kept doing things I didn't expect, things no one hadeverdone for me. He brought me some random gift every day, always gauging my reaction to see what I liked and disliked. He brought flowers every week, always something new and different, like he was trying to figure out which ones I loved most.
He remembered my favorite coffee order, how much I loved chocolate, meals I preferred from specific restaurants we'd eaten from in the past. He'd gotten so good at observing what I'd liked that he could blindly pick something up for me, and it would fit with my tastes perfectly.
He spent so much time with me that I wondered how he got anything done in his own family.
I'd begun to grow used to him, finding his presence to be both unnerving and comforting—which made it that much worse. He was becoming something he shouldn't be—a constant fixture in my life.
I'd started watching for him, waiting for him, anticipating his text or phone call. At breakfast or lunchtime, I'd decide what I wanted then subconsciously browse the menu for something he'd like. I'd caught and chastised myself for doing so multiple times, yet it seemed to be a habit I couldn't break.
