“That was the nosy bitch. I’m sure of it,” Guillem said.
“Probably. But how is she getting her information? Who’s leaking it to her? She had rendezvous times with the freighters at sea. Did you know that?” Arnau peered across the room at Claudia. “There were only a couple of people who knew those times and coordinates.”
Guillem followed his father’s gaze. “Not Claudia,” he denied. “She would never put her father or me in danger. It had to be someone in New York or LA. No one here would dare leak information. They know you’d kill every member of their family.” Eyes on his wife, he snapped an order. “Claudia, get us drinks. You know what Padre and I prefer. Hurry up. I’m thirsty. And clean up the glass around the fireplace.”
He turned back to his father. “Did Angel step up his security? Maybe you should have him come to the main house.”
“I told him to come. He won’t. He thinks I don’t know about his lover, Guillem, but I know all about his pathetic friend, Rey Estay. That will get him killed if he isn’t careful. You should talk to him. Better yet, go in and put a bullet in that worthless Estay’s head and drag your brother out of there.”
“I spend a lot of time putting bullets in my brother’s lovers’ heads,” Guillem said. “When he’s tired of them, he comes to me and cries like a baby. Says he can’t do it himself because he still loves them but they’re getting too clingy and he’s worried they’ll do something stupid and endanger the family.” He sighed. “I guess I can go get him and bring him to your house.”
His father looked past him to Claudia, who hadn’t moved. “Your wife seems to have forgotten all the training you gave her, Guillem. You were so patient and took so much time making certain she understood that we don’t allow our women to run our lives the way they do where she comes from.”
Guillem swiveled his chair around and glared at his wife. Even with his sinister scowl, she remained defiant, unmoving from what she must have thought was the safety of her corner. Her husband leapt from his chair and stalked across the room, his hands curled into tight fists.
Arnau gave his daughter-in-law a cruel smile. “You really do need to remind your stubborn wife of her duty to you periodically, Guillem. Perhaps schedule her for training with the other women and girls we get from the States. Clearly, she would benefit.”
Guillem swung his fist, his knuckles connecting with Claudia’s jaw. She was flung like a rag doll out of the narrow chair she was in, her body flying from the corner toward the bank of windows where they spent so much time viewing the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.
Arnau threw his head back and laughed gleefully. “About time Riccardo’s little princess realized she serves men, not the other way around.”
Guillem followed the flight of the body, watching the way Claudia landed on the hardwood floor, her head hitting, almost bouncing, arms and legs flopping, truly like a rag doll, with no attempt to cushion the fall. He slowed his approach and rather than pull back his foot to deliver a kick, he crouched beside his wife and touched her neck tentatively. His breath seemed to hitch.
“She’s dead, Padre. Her neck is broken. I didn’t hit her hard enough to break her neck.” There was that hitch in his breath again. He gripped Claudia’s shoulder and then stood up abruptly, his gaze scanning the room sharply. “Someone’s here. In this room with us now. Someone else killed her.”
“You hit her pretty hard,” Arnau observed.
“No, she was already dead,” Guillem reiterated. Still looking carefully around the room, he backed up to the chair he’d been sitting in and picked up his automatic. “We have to go, get you in the safe room and make sure Madre is alive. Right now. I know someone is here. Call Angel. Tell him we aren’t playing games and they killed Claudia.”
Arnau didn’t waste time arguing with his son. He called Angel’s cell. It rang and rang. He looked at Guillem, sudden fear creeping into his eyes. “He always answers me.”
“I have to get my son. I’m not going without him,” Guillem said. “Come with me. We shouldn’t separate.” He indicated the elevator.
Arnau pushed himself out of the chair just as his phone rang. A smile burst over his face. “This must be Angel.” He answered without looking. The smile faded immediately and he began to swear. “Impossible. That’s not possible.” He looked at his son. “Find it, José, or you’re a dead man.” He stabbed at his phone with a shaky finger to end the call. “José says every account we have is wiped out. All our businesses are gone. Burned to the ground. The safes are empty. Every single one has been attacked.”