I need that evidence. Another loose end. There were too many.
“I...don’t know! I swear—I don’t...”
His hands tightened around McLintock’s thin shoulders. “Did you know that Mario over there—” he tilted his head toward the guard “—has one thing that he’s particularly good at? Death. He can kill in a hundred different ways. He likes killing.”
McLintock was crying. Had been for a while now.
Did he realize that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t get out alive? Probably not. People always clung to hope so desperately. Even when they had no reason for that hope.
“Did you see anything...anyone suspicious at the cemetery?” Diego pressed. “You rode over in that limo. Who was there when you got in it?”
“Just...the driver, Charles...”
The man wouldn’t have killed himself.
“Cops were...there.” McLintock licked his lips. Tried to hold up his sagging head. “Federal...agents. I thought—I thought everything was...safe.”
No place was safe.
With the cops swarming around, though, the person who’d planted that bomb would have needed good
access—an “in” at the mansion.
“I rode...in the car, just...me, Juliana and...Susan...”
Susan. Diego paused, remembering a woman with sleek blond hair and too-sharp eyes. He’d seen her before, with the senator.
He’d seen Susan, but she’d never seen him.
Aaron’s lover. Would a lover kill a daughter?
Yes.
“When it was time to leave the cemetery, why weren’t you in the limo?” This was the important question. From what he’d learned, Juliana had been about to climb into the limo. What about the other passengers?
“Susan...Susan said she wasn’t...feeling well.” The words were soft. Weak. The blood loss was definitely taking its toll on the man. “She...asked me...stay with...her. Wanted to get...some air. Said we could get...ride back...with someone else....”
Diego smiled. “Was that so hard?”
Looking confused, McLintock actually tried to smile back even as his eyes flickered closed.
Diego fired a hard glance at Mario. “Find the woman—this Susan. Bring her in to me.”
McLintock drunkenly shook his head. “No. Susan...didn’t do this... She doesn’t know anything about—”
“A man’s lover always knows him better than anyone else.” That was why Diego made a habit of not leaving his lovers alive. They’d just betray him if they lived.
There was too much betrayal in the world.
His father had taught him that lesson early on. In Mexico, his father had amassed a fortune by dealing in the darkness. The law hadn’t applied to him. But...he’d always been so good to Diego. Given him a good life, nice clothes, toys. A home.
Diego had known his father was a dangerous man, but he’d trusted him. A boy trusted his father.
Until that night... He’d heard screams. He’d followed the cries. Found his mother dying, and his father—covered in her blood.
“She was selling me out!” His father had wiped the bloody blade of his knife on his pants. “Trying to make a deal with those Americans... She was going to take you away from me!”
His mother had looked like a beautiful angel. Lying on the ground, her white nightgown stained red.
“No one will take you from me!” his father had snarled. “They think they can use you against me, make me weak!”
His father had been so good to him before.
But Diego had seen the real man that night.
No one is good.
His father had stalked toward him with his knife. The knife he’d used to kill Diego’s mother. “No one can use you against me.”
And he’d known that his father had snapped. He’d cried as he looked at his mother and he’d realized— He’s going to kill me, too.
Only, Diego hadn’t been ready to die.
They’d fought. The knife had cut into Diego’s flesh. He still had the long scar on his stomach, a permanent reminder.
Trust no one. Especially not those close to you.
But Diego hadn’t died. At twelve, Diego had killed his father. Then when he’d walked out of that house, covered in blood, with the bodies of his mother and father behind him...
El Diablo.
His father’s men had given him a new name—and they’d feared him. Everyone had.
Diego realized that he was staring down at McLintock. The man was barely breathing, and the hope was almost painful to see in his bleary eyes.
Giving a slow nod, Diego stepped back. “You’ve given me the information that I needed.” And he was sure that Susan would be coming to join him very soon.
“You’ll let me go? Please?” The man’s voice was thready, so weak. No man should talk like that. Diego barely held his disgust in check. No man should beg. His father hadn’t begged.
“The knife,” Diego said as he opened his hand. Without any hesitation, Mario gave him the blade.
McLintock sighed raggedly. Did he think Diego was going to cut his bonds and let him go?
“You’re free,” Diego told him and drove the knife right into McLintock’s heart.
When he turned away from the body, he saw the fear...the respect...in Mario’s eyes.
El Diablo.
As long as there was fear, he didn’t need trust or loyalty.
Chapter Eight
The bathroom door opened, sending tendrils of steam drifting into the bedroom. Juliana walked out wrapped in a towel, with her wet hair sliding over her shoulders.
The woman was every fantasy he’d ever had. Just seeing her—arousal flooded through Logan, hardening his flesh for her.
She was looking down when she entered the bedroom, but after just an instant, she seemed to sense him. Juliana glanced up and froze.
Maybe he should be a gentleman and turn away while she dressed. Juliana was probably used to gentlemen. The guys who spoke to her so softly, held her hand and greeted her with flowers.
And didn’t constantly think about ripping her clothes away—or her towel—and taking her in a wild rush of lust and greedy need.
The gentleman role wasn’t for him.
So Logan kept watching and enjoying that world-class view.
Juliana’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, and even that seemed sexy. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” In fact, this was going on his highlight reel for later.
Her lips tightened. He liked her lips soft. Wet. Open. On his.
“Why are you in here, Logan?”