"You care for her," he said with an entirely different tone than before.
"Who?"
"Son, if you honestly think there's a single thing that goes on around here without my knowledge, you've underestimated me and the men who remain loyal." His smile was more genuine than normal.
"Cordero," I huffed.
"You forget that he trained under me. That kid begged me for almost five years to allow him to join the family. Scrawny little fucker who was so wet behind his ears." He laughed and lifted his glass in a toast. "Look at him now. Built like what the women would call a brick shithouse, your right-hand man and trustworthy. You can't beat that."
Cordero had certainly risen in the ranks, owning his Capo status to my father, but he and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. And yes, he was extremely loyal. "It's none of his business what I do in my personal life."
"That's where you've never understood how important it is to choose the right woman in your life. Oh, I know men in our ranks never have just one woman, but for me, your mother was more than enough. She was the very light of my life, the reason I kept going, working so hard. Did I ever tell you that her father threatened to kill me more than once if I ever bothered her?"
I'd heard countless stories over the years, but this was certainly new. "And I'm certain that didn't go over well."
He laughed again, this time without wheezing. "Jack and I are old buddies now. I was far too old for Lucinda and of course, I was nothing but a goddamn motherfucking piece of trash dishwasher. I do think that's a direct quote."
I lifted my glass, chuckling. "Look at you now, Pops."
"Your mother loved me even when I didn't have a dime. She continued to love me when I built this business and yes, she knew almost every detail of what I was working on. At least at first. When it became too painful for her loving ways, I stopped bringing her into the business."
For my old school father to actually allow my mother to be involved in decisions made was definitely news. "That was probably wise."
"Yes," he said absently, taking a huge gulp before continuing. "What I'm trying to tell you, son, is that if you are keeping this girl to simply get to Santiago, don't. It's bad for business, your soldiers, and for that poor girl."
I took a swallow of scotch before answering. "What if it's more?"
He leaned over, lifting a single eyebrow. "You have to think carefully, but if you're certain about your feelings then care for her with all your heart. Never let business or another woman get in the way. Respect her. Treat her right. And if you need a reason to kill Santiago then you have one. He'll never let her out of his world. Never. Not unless he's dead or put in a prison where they have no keys."
"I'll keep that in mind." The utter hatred my father had for the man meant whatever past they had together was tumultuous. We sat quietly for a few minutes, perhaps enjoying each other's company more than usual. But I had to know what he was dealing with.
He was my father after all.
"How sick are you?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice even.
As usual, the stoic man clammed up, twisting in his chair until he was able to see outside. "You worry too much, son. Now, I'm leaving you in charge while I'm gone, son. You make very good decisions. Do what's necessary to keep things going."
"Look, we should talk."
We both heard some commotion in the hall just seconds before my mother burst into the room.
"Lucinda, what is it?" my father asked as he jumped to his feet.
"Your daughter. She won't tell me what's wrong," she responded, wringing her hands. "But, Carlos, Elena has a black eye."
I was out of the chair within two seconds, taking long strides out into the foyer. Elena was already halfway up the stairs, no doubt racing in an effort to get away from having to explain. Thank God, Selena was with her.
"Elena. Stop," I demanded.
"Unkie Miguel!" Selena squealed.
"Go to your room," Elena insisted, pushing on her daughter.
"But Mommy!"
Elena was unraveling. "I said go. Now!"
Selena frowned but scampered off, my sister trying to follow closely behind.
"We are going to talk about this," I insisted.
"Leave me alone, Miguel. I can handle this. I just need some time," Elena said in a muffled tone. I could tell she'd been crying.
I managed to grab her arm, pulling her as gently as possible to a halt. When I eased her around to face me, my blood boiled. "What. The. Fuck?"
She immediately struggled to get out of my hold, pressing her other hand against her swollen eye. Her lip was cracked, dried blood drops on her chin. "Leave it alone."
"Who did this to you? Who attacked you?"
"Doesn't matter."
I kept my grip firm, taking several scattered breaths. "Did Winston do this to you?"
When Elena winced, I knew I was going to kill the motherfucker.
"Miguel, please. We had an argument. I shouldn't have made him angry. That's all. Nothing more. I just need some space to think." My own sister, the girl who'd kicked a boy in the balls when she was barely thirteen years old had been reduced to this.
Oh. Fucking. No.