to get through this. It’s not the first time we’ve had a family crisis and it probably won’t be the last. Your father, uncles and the other men in this family will make certain nothing will happen to you. They always protect their own.”
Ana held her mother as if she were her a lifeline. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she was going into exile without a hint of when she would return. Diego had mentioned she should pack enough for a couple of weeks, yet something told her it would be longer. She was leaving everything that was familiar to live with a stranger who’d assured Diego that he would protect her. She had to believe him or whoever wanted her dead would determine her destiny.
No permita que nadie le defina ni determine su destino. It was as if Marguerite-Joséfina Isabel Diaz-Cole was in the room whispering in her ear. Her grandmother had always cautioned her not to let anyone define her or to determine her destiny. Ana’s grandmother had been born during a time when women had little or no rights, and even less when it came to selecting a husband. Cuban-born M.J. had defied her father, married an American and left the country of her birth to become the matriarch of a dynasty. Ana kissed her mother again.
“I’m ready, Mom.” And she was ready to do whatever she needed to do so she could live her life without having to look over her shoulder.
Chapter 2
Los Angeles
Basil Irvine pounded a fist into his open palm when he really felt like punching the wall. Perhaps the pain would help him forget the debacle that resulted in Tyler Cole being shot instead of Ana.
Turning a menacing glare on his brother, he narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I get for sending a boy to do a man’s job.”
A feral grin spread over Webb Irvine’s scarred face. “Do you want to hear I told you so?”
Basil’s gray eyes glittered like chipped ice. “If it will make you feel better, then say it.”
Like quicksilver the smile faded and Webb peered down at the toes of his spit-shined shoes. “I’m not going to say it because it’s not going to change anything. I told you that I’d take care of the bitch, but you wanted to do it your way.”
“That’s because I didn’t want you involved. You just got out of jail—”
Webb waved a hand as if swatting away an annoying insect. “Don’t worry about me going back to jail. That’s not going to happen.”
“I still don’t want you involved in this.”
Basil stared at his younger brother. They looked nothing alike, but blood ran deep between them. He’d stomped a man to death for stealing from him, and it was Webb who’d confessed to the crime. Webb, only fifteen at the time, was tried as an adult, and pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter; he spent three years in a juvenile facility before being transferred to minimum-security prison for the next ten years. Webb earned a high school diploma and, once paroled, he’d enrolled in college and had graduated with a degree in computer science.
“I won’t be involved,” Webb said softly. “I know someone who would be perfect for this project.”
Basil sat down on a leather love seat, knees spread apart. Webb was the epitome of a successful businessman with his conservative haircut, tailored suit, custom-made shirt, silk tie and imported footwear. He’d repaid his brother ten-fold when he’d given him enough money to start up his own security company that created and sold state-of-the art surveillance equipment.
“Let me think about it. My man said he’s going to wait a while before he begins hunting again.”
The dark brown eyes in an equally dark face flattened. “Do you have an idea who told that reporter that you had threatened Ana Cole?”
Basil shook his head. He knew who it was, but he couldn’t tell Webb.
Webb pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “What if it was someone from Slow Wyne?”
“I doubt that.”
“Are you sure, brother?”
Running a hand over his shaved head, Basil chuckled under his breath. “I’m willing to bet our mama’s life on it.”
“Intimidation doesn’t work on everyone.”
Leaning lower, Basil rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s only one person who knows what went down when I was trying to get Justin Glover to sign with Slow Wyne, and that is Omar Thornton.”
“Watch him, Basil.”
“Omar is trustworthy.”
“I can find out how trustworthy he is if you let me bug his house.”
Basil sat up straight. “What the hell are you saying, Webb?”
“Send him away on a business trip for a few days and my people will bug his house and phones. After a while you’ll discover how trustworthy he is.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“I am careful and thorough, Basil. I’m just trying to protect your reputation. I didn’t do a bid for you to screw up because you’re pissed off at a little girl who managed to get the best of you.”
“She is not a little girl,” Basil said between clenched teeth. “She’s a shark masquerading as a piranha.”
Throwing back his head, Webb laughed loudly. He sobered when he saw Basil’s expression. “Do you want Justin Glover?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I want him.”
“I can get him for you, big brother.”
The buzz of the intercom preempted Basil’s reply. “Excuse me, but I have to get that.” He stood up, walked over to his desk and punched a button on the telephone console. “Yes, Camille.”
“Mr. Edwards’s secretary just called to say he’s on his way.”
“Thanks.” When he turned around Basil realized he was alone. Webb had left. He didn’t want his brother to do anything that could send him back to jail. The person he’d hired to kill Ana Cole had shot the wrong Cole. However, the hired gun vowed Ana Cole was as good as dead.
* * *
Jacob Jones maneuvered up to curbside at the Marathon airport, showed his shield and photo ID to the man who came over to the driver’s side window. The officer’s eyes shifted from the official photograph to the man with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He took a step closer, glancing into the open window to see the holstered automatic weapon where his right hand rested on his thigh.
“I’m on the job,” Jacob explained. “My party is on the ground and should be here in a few minutes,” he said to the police officer. What he wanted to tell the man was that he wasn’t officially on the job, but what he had agreed to do was akin to witness protection. The difference was Ana Cole wasn’t a witness to a crime, but the intended target of a sniper with possible ties to the military.
“No problem, Marshal Jones. You have a good
