“Can I call my mom?”
“Later! Jeez, can’t you see I have a hundred things to do right now? You’re a big boy, do you need to talk to your mom every day?”
He walked away.
“Jesse, I’m sorry—” his dad began.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled and went back to his room.
Earlier he’d seen Gabriella come in and thought they could play pool—Dominick had a wicked cool pool table in a gigantic room designed like some scene from a James Bond movie. They’d played the first day Jesse was here—him, Gabriella, Jose, and one of the guys who worked for Dominick. They’d had fun.
But Gabriella said, “I can’t, Jess, I’m sorry. Maybe later. By the way, I found your game in the atrium. You shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around.” She handed it to him. “I know you like to play all the time.”
He didn’t remember leaving it anywhere, but he’d been looking for it.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
So first Gabriella then his dad. Play your stupid games. That’s what they thought, because no grown-up liked games. Jose did, and he was fun, but he was also … well, he wasn’t really all that smart. What would his grandmother say? Simple. Yeah, he was simple, but nice. Nothing like his brothers.
Jesse pulled his DS out of its sleeve and a paper fell to the floor. He picked it up. It was folded over, no name on the outside. He hadn’t put it there. Had Gabriella slipped him a note? It had to be.
He opened it. It wasn’t written in girl writing. Small, clear printing slanted to the right.
Jesse ~
I’m sorry I scared you last night at the football game. I approached you all wrong. Forgive me.
I was asked by your mother Madison to find you and your stepfather and bring you both home. It wasn’t until I got to Acapulco that I learned that Carson Spade launders money for a drug cartel. Now, my only concern is bringing you back to the States safe.
You deserve the truth. I don’t want to tell you in a letter, but I need you to trust me and my brother. I am your biological father. I knew your mother when we were both at Stanford. She told me Monday that you were born. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. If I had … everything would be different. I hope we get a chance to talk about this soon. But for now know that I will do everything in my power to get you out of that house. It’s more dangerous than you know.
My brother Kane used to be in the Marines. He’s going to come for you tonight. Be ready. Unlock your window and the set of French doors into your suite. When he gets there, do exactly what he says. I trust Kane with my life. More, I trust him with yours.
I don’t know you, Jesse, but I love you. You are my son. You are a Rogan. And that means you are both strong and smart. Be both tonight.
~ Sean
*
Sean walked into Dante Romero’s house after his thugs disarmed him.
“I want my gun back,” Sean said.
“So you’re Little Rogan. How long has it been? Twenty years?”
“Gun.”
“When you leave.”
“Your sister betrayed Kane.”
“And what? You plan on killing me?” Dante smiled. “And I heard you were the smart Rogan.”
The comparison between Dante Romero and Sean’s brother Liam was right on, he thought. They had the same innate cockiness and superiority complex … and the same distrustful attitude.
“She promised she would help … then turned him over to Flores. I have enough money to buy his freedom.”
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t.”
“What I mean is, Kane’s head is priceless.”
“I will get my brother back.”
“You’re not like them, are you?”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
Dante waved Sean over into another room. “Relax, Sean. The Romeros and Rogans go way back.”
Sean couldn’t relax. He was worried about Kane and Jesse and he wanted to kill Carson Spade. Sean didn’t like that part of him, the part that would do violence to another. He much preferred destroying people with his brains, not his fists or guns.
Sean hesitated, then followed. Dante was a little older than Liam, who was nearly thirty-six. Just as confident, just as charming. Just as deadly.
Dante led Sean into a well-appointed library. If Sean were in the mood, he would have enjoyed the room, with books and art and a state-of-the-art computer system. Dante waved off his security and closed the door so he and Sean were alone.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Kane at least plays the game.”
Sean grunted out a laugh.
“In his own way.” Dante walked over to his desk and leaned back in the leather chair. “You want me to broker a deal.”
“I want my brother.”
“And your brother wants the kid he was hired to retrieve. Some sort of domestic issue.”