It doesn’t take long for the head of the Villalobos cartel to show up. Plato tenses at the sound of tires crunching on gravel, and then he turns white as an over-bleached sheet when the front door of the building opens and the sound of people arguing floats up to us on the second floor.
I strain to listen, but the shouted words aren’t in English and none it makes sense. I recognize the voices, though—Fernando and his daughter. She sounds upset, anger spiking in her words. Fernando’s side of the argument is less heated, clipped and cold, which is somehow far more worrying than if he were yelling.
“Oh, god,” Plato groans.
Footsteps on the stairs, and then Fernando appears in the hallway, back ramrod straight, shoulders drawn back, marching toward us with steel in his eyes. Behind him, Ocho follows with his headphones still glued to his ears, and his assault rifle primed in his hands. Natalia brings up the rear, her brows banked together in a severe frown, and two twin spots of color reddening her cheeks.
“Father,” she snaps. Fernando stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to her. He glares at her, and she seems to lose her fire. She bows her head, and sucks in a deep, shaky breath. “Father, I ask that you—”
“You do not ask anything of me, child. You are obedient, and you behave as a lady would behave. Now go back downstairs and find Arissa. She needs help unloading the supplies, I am sure.”
She glances quickly down the hallway in our direction. Shuffling her feet, she looks like she wants to stay, to say something more, but she wears her fear openly. She doesn’t want to disobey her father. More than that, she is afraid to.
She stares at the floor a second longer, and then she turns, hurrying away with her hands curled tightly into fists. Fernando watches her go, and then he slowly turns toward us. Plato huffs. He sounds resigned now, and I can’t help but feel as if his lost hope might have chased mine away with it.
“You have been in my house for less than two hours, Mr. Garrett, and it seems as though you’ve already caused quite a scene. Can you explain yourself?”
Clearing my throat, I crack the knuckle of my index finger, smiling. “I apologize. I wasn’t aware of your house rules until I’d already broken a few of them. Had I known you frowned upon homicide and people freely roaming around your home, I would have refrained from both.”
Fernando doesn’t look all that pleased by my attitude. His expression is similar to my father’s when I told him I planned on joining the military. I’ve only known this guy for a few hours, so it’s kind of impressive that I’ve let him down so spectacularly already.
“Ocho is a mute, Mr. Garrett. He has no tongue to speak with. If he had, he would have explained everything a little more efficiently. In these situations, I normally like to go over my rules personally, but I didn’t have time earlier. Can you please tell me how this came about? Why did you kill that man?”
Fuck. I can’t tell him I was incensed by the way that bastard was treating the girl at his feet. I’m supposed to be into fucking women and treating them like they are my possessions. If I tell him I took offence to how that asshole was talking to the girl, it will look very strange indeed. “He wouldn’t share,” I say. “I wanted the girl he was with, and he was being a cunt about it.”
I’m praying to god the cameras inside that room don’t have sound. I didn’t exchange a single word with that William guy before I shot him dead. If I was meant to be arguing with him over that girl, then the fact that I simply took out my gun and pulled the trigger will seem highly irregular, too.
Fernando tuts. “We are very respectful here, Mr. Garrett. If one of the players inside that room has claimed a girl, she is his until he is finished with her, or he invites someone else to join him. Is that clear?”
“Seems very civilized now, when you put it like that.” I can’t seem to keep the disgust out of my voice.
Fernando scratches his face in a nervous, twitchy manner. “As you were unaware of the rules, I will accept a sincere apology from you in this instance, and you may wait downstairs for me.” He looks at me expectantly.
“What about him?” I point a thumb at Plato. He looks like he’s about to keel over and pass out.
“Him?” Fernando steps toward me and places a hand on my shoulder. His fingernails are perfectly manicured and trimmed, with a tiny crescent of white rimming each nail. It looks like he actually spends time shaping and cleaning them. His hands aren’t manly in the slightest. “Plato knows better. I’m afraid, where he is concerned, a simply apology is not going to be sufficient.”
“He was helping me. He shouldn’t be punished.”
Fernando tips his head to one side. “Are you telling me how to run my household, Mr. Garrett? Because, rest assured, that would be very ill advised.”
“I’m merely pleading his case. What kind of a man would I be if I let someone help me at the risk of their own safety, and then I did nothing to preserve theirs?”