Old Hollywood Page 9

“Does this look like the face of a man who is kidding?” Victor drawled.

  “No, actually you look like a biker with the jeans and those shit kicking boots.”

  “I’m eclectic. What can say?” Victor shrugged and although it was meant to be funny, both men knew it was true. They were both chameleons and could adapt to any culture or circumstance thrown at them.

  They pulled into the parking lot next to the studio and immediately noticed the guard standing sheepishly by the door. Tony turned quickly toward Victor to warn him to keep his cool, but Victor was out of the truck before it had even come to a stop.

  “Oh, fuck.” Tony gave a long-suffering sigh as he cut the engine and raced after his brother, who was in the process of beating the shit out of the guard.

  In between brutal punches to his face, the guard was choking out agonized apologies. “I’m sorry, sir, I fell asleep.”

  Victor stopped abruptly and stepped back. The guy visibly relaxed when Victor said cordially, “Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?” But a roundhouse kick right in the nuts left reduced the guard to a whimpering heap on the ground, making him an easy target for Victor’s fists.

  “Seriously, man, enough,” Tony said as he pulled Victor off. Tony knelt and got an arm underneath the guy. “You mind?” he asked, gesturing for Victor to help him.

  The two of them dragged the guard inside the building but within seconds, Victor was on him again. He had the guy by the throat as he shoved him up against the wall until his toes were dangling off the ground.

  “You had one job. One.” He let the guard’s legs flail and kick wildly before tossing him aside like a ragdoll.

  Tony quietly shut the door and deadbolted it. “You finished? Okay, now I see the real reason you dressed like a biker tonight. You are nothing but badass, my man.”

  Victor cut his eyes at him as he rubbed his chafed knuckles. “There’s always a method to my madness.”

  Tony crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “I should know that by now.”

  The guard was crouched in the corner in a fetal position warily eyeing the two men.

  “Do you realize the position you’ve put us in?” Victor bellowed, not giving him time to answer. “Now I’m going to have fucking police and maybe even FBI agents crawling all over this place. You stupid fucking excuse for a security guard.”

  A series of swift kicks from Victor’s boot brought a grunt of pain before the man vomited and passed out. He would be bruised up tomorrow and would forever carry the memory of what happened to guards that fell asleep on duty.

  “Damn, Vic, you ‘bout beat him to death.”

  “Son of a bitch is lucky I don’t let Antonio Wayne take a whip to his back—I still might. Fucker deserves it.”

  “Come on.” Tony pulled his brother down the hall toward Estrella’s dressing room. “I’m just about convinced you’re crazy, Victor.”

  “Me too, bro. Me too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  He’d done it—he’d walked right in there and killed that woman with no thought of backing out. He had taken care of business like a real badass hitman and done what needed to be done. He had wondered how he’d feel after killing someone. Well, he felt great. He felt fucking elated, in fact, and satisfied to have followed through on his darkest fantasy.

  The thing that thrilled him was the fact that he had gotten right past that security guard. Fucker had fallen asleep at his post. That had probably saved the guy’s life; he had been prepared to kill the guard too. What was done was done, and no one could do a damn thing about it.

  He wondered if they were watching him on a security recording at this very moment. He had been savvy enough to keep his head down so the security camera wouldn’t catch his face. But he was certain it caught him in action doing the deed and the resulting blood and gore.

  He was only beginning his reign of terror. He reached for his burner phone and dialed the florist…

  “Fuck, man. That was some serious carnage. Poor girl,” Victor muttered as he ran his hand over his stubbled jaw. He and Tony were in the TV studio’s security office reviewing the security feed from the night before. The shit was hardcore. He had seen or been part of enough brutality in his life that he had some idea what Estrella had probably gone through in her final moments. True, he hadn’t thought much of her, as an actress or as a person, but she hadn’t deserved that.

  “True. But I keep thinking, whoever did this knew exactly where the camera was.” Tony’s experience as a sniper in Afghanistan had taught him to process small details in a split second. “Look at that, how he tilts his head away from the camera and even manages to avoid showing us anything in his reflection in the mirror.”

  “Are you saying it was an inside job?” Victor frowned as he studied his brother’s face. This was the kind of thing the military had trained his brother for. Tony had come back from the Middle East a changed man, a harder man, and Victor knew better than to doubt him.

  “Could be. I assume nothing, but it would make sense.” Tony ignored his brother’s scrutiny. He knew Victor wanted to ask him about experiences overseas but he never discussed it. Never. He didn’t want the horrors he had endured there to ever touch the life he was making for himself in Louisville. So, he focused instead on the message the killer had written on the mirror in Estrella’s trademark blood red lipstick.

  For you, Valentina.

  Three words. A simple message that had earth shattering implications. They both turned when Jericho entered the room.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you that anything we discuss in this room is private.” It made no difference that Jericho was directing his comments at criminals; his need for discretion was paramount.

  Victor spoke first. “I don’t think we need to tell you that you’re not the one in charge. You’re the one that fucked up and got yourself indebted to the Russian mafia, or should I say your wife put you in Glazov’s stranglehold?”

  Jericho’s businesslike demeanor hardened in an instant as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. Interesting. Victor wondered if perhaps this guy had more balls than he had given him credit for. He found himself instinctively respecting Jericho more after meeting him face to face than he had when he was basing his opinion of the man on hearsay. Yes…it was always better for a man to form his own opinions.

  “Boys, boys,” Tony stepped between them. “We're all on the same team here. Seriously, Vic, if your woman has some weirdo stalking her, we need to get on top of that shit. It’s one thing to be crazy possessive,” he said with a meaningful look at his brother, “but it looks like this fucker is crazy enough to have followed your woman to another country.”

  “How ‘bout we start over? I can play nice,” Jericho said smoothly with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Both men stepped back; resigned to the fact that whether they liked it or not, they needed each other. It didn’t stop the defiant stares they exchanged as Tony rolled his eyes.

  “Now, who is Valentina?” Jericho asked.

  Victor wasted no time laying claim to his woman. “She’s mine.”

  “How serious is it?”

  “She’s my fiancé.”

  “Congratulations. So, your fiancé has a stalker.” He lowered himself into a chair next to the computer monitors. “How long this has been going on?”

  Victor ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “It started when she was in Guatemala working on our other telenovela--”

  “Ah, Cuentos de Amor. Yeah, my wife is a huge fan.”

  Victor’s body began to relax as the waves of anger receded. The guy couldn’t be all bad if his wife was a fan of the show. “Yeah, this show, Cuentos de Amorado, is a spinoff. I brought Valentina over to star in it.”

  “Interesting. So, this is an existing show that already had a star? Was this woman Valentina’s competition?”

  “You could say that. Personally, I don’t think Valentina has any competition, but I’m not sure Estr
ella shared that view. She seemed to feel a bit threatened or intimidated because Valentina came with such a following. Resented the nice dressing room Valentina has, the perks that come along with her status as my woman and as the new star of the show. Telenovela fans are extremely loyal. You don’t think a fan could have done this, do you?”

  “At this point, anything is possible. We can’t be sure her stalker is the killer. I heard you saying that you couldn’t get a good look at the killer’s face – any chance the stalker could be a woman?”

  The idea sent a chill down Victor’s spine as he shrugged noncommittally. He of all people knew that women could be much more cunning when it came to matters of revenge. It might not be a politically correct opinion, but life had proven him right too many times to dismiss the notion.

  “Well, then,” Tony said solemnly, “let’s hope like hell we don’t have some sociopath killing off your woman’s competition—or what he or she perceives to be competition.” Like Jericho, Tony was trained in the art of profiling, he just happened to use his skills for the good of the cartel, or at least that’s how he viewed things.

  “You don’t even need me, boys.” Jericho shrugged, like the dead, strangled woman on the floor in the next room was no big deal. Just another day at the office…

  “What does that mean?” Tony asked with a puzzled frown.

  Victor answered for him. “He means it’s a legitimate kill. We have all the proof we need on tape.”

  “Exactly,” Jericho agreed. “Let’s take another look at the footage. Maybe we’ve missed something.”

  He brought up the grainy footage. It didn’t take long to see that no matter how he zoomed in or out, the killer’s face was never clearly exposed to either the camera or the mirror. “Whoever did this was familiar with the position of the security cameras and knew exactly how to avoid them. I want two security guards on duty from now on.”

  “Why? In case one of their sorry asses falls asleep?” Tony guffawed.

  Victor continued to try to get a view of the killer’s face, to no avail. He stared at the screen, silently willing the mystery man – he felt sure it was a man -- to turn and look at the camera. C’mon, fucker, look at me.

  Jericho answered, giving his input. “That’s a good idea. They’ll be less likely to go to sleep if they have each other to talk to.” His train of thought changed as he went back to the business at hand. “Well, alright then, let’s get this party started and get CSI in here. Why don’t you go home, Victor, and I’ll stay and deal with the authorities?”

  The two men stood and faced each other, that same persistent, alpha male tension still bristling between them. Jericho knew by the look in Victor’s eyes as he closed the space between them that he was about to be threatened.

  Victor didn’t waste any time making his feelings clear. “If you fuck us over, it won’t be Glazov you have to worry about, it will be my crazy ass sadistic uncle. You’ll bear the marks of his wrath on your back for the rest of your life. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, wields a whip like Antonio Wayne Ramirez.”

  When Victor got home, the sun was just making its presence known on the horizon. He made a brief stop in his office before going to find Valentina. He wasn’t sure how she would react to what he was about to do, but it wasn’t open for discussion. He’d made up his mind and he wasn’t going to change it now. He knew what was best for her. She would simply have to trust him.

  “We need to talk.”

  She looked up at him from over her laptop as she was reading an upcoming script. From his grim expression, she could tell something was very wrong. It probably had something to do with why he left in the middle of the night. It had been surprisingly hard to watch him go. She had tried to go back to sleep, only to pace the floor and wonder if he would return safely. The fear had clawed at her nerves and kept her awake as she questioned her own sanity.

  Worrying about this man meant she was becoming attached to him. She couldn’t let that happen. A lifetime of that kind of uncertainty could only break her heart.

  Victor pulled up a chair next to the bed and just looked at her -- a simple pleasure that had become as necessary to his existence as breathing. There was nothing better than the view he was enjoying at this moment. The world knew her as a glamorous starlet, but he was the lucky bastard who got to see her just like this: curled up in his bed wearing barely anything, and not a trace of makeup. He wouldn’t be anywhere else, and he would move mountains to make sure she felt the same way, if she didn’t already.

  “Just tell me, Victor. We both know you’re not one to mince words.”

  Victor arched an arrogant brow. Perhaps her profession had taught her how to read people. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced she would be an asset to the cartel. A cartel man’s choice of spouse was of vital importance to the entire organization. It took a certain kind of woman to be able to live the lifestyle.

  “There’s no easy way to say this. There was a murder at the studio last night.”

  “What?! Oh, that’s terrible. Who was it?”

  “Estrella. That’s not the worst part. There was a message on the mirror in red lipstick indicating that the killer did it for you.”

  Valentina’s complexion was ashen as she took in his words. “Why in the world would someone do that? I know Estrella wasn’t happy with sharing the spotlight, but she could more than hold her own.” She gulped, then continued hoarsely. “How?”

  “He slit her throat. Damn near decapitated her.”

  “Oh, Victor, that’s horrible,” she whispered, her lip wobbling at the thought of what Estrella must have endured.

  “The only thing that makes sense is that the killer thinks they’re taking out your competition.”

  Valentina closed her eyes briefly as she shook her head in disgust. “I’ll never understand that. All that means is that whoever it is doesn’t think I can make it on my own. I don’t need someone killing for me. What an absolute waste.” She took a long, shuddering breath. “You have to let me go, Victor. I can’t put anyone else at risk. It’s too much. This is all too much--”

  “No!” he bellowed, rising from the chair to tower over her. His chest heaving, he closed his eyes briefly, then tried again, calmer this time. “No. This is where you belong. I’ll take care of this. I’ll take care of you.”

  With a frown, she asked, “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to put a tracking device in your shoulder.” Might as well be clear. He saw no point in pretending that he needed her permission. He would do what was necessary to keep her safe. Period.

  Her eyes widened but she didn’t say anything. He could only assume she didn’t know what to say so he continued, seeing no reason to play games. He had never been more serious in his life. “I’ve been watching over you for a long time now, Valentina. For years you’ve haunted my dreams. You made me want…more. Better.”

  “But you don’t know me--”

  “I know everything I need to know. I know you’re mine. I know that I love you. It isn’t the conventional type of love, I know, but I promise you, it’s real. I waited until the right moment to bring you here, for both our sakes. You were pursuing your dreams, and I was establishing my position in the cartel. Now the time is right for us to move forward together. To lose you now would be more than I could bear.”

  It was odd hearing this man reveal such vulnerability. Victor Ramirez was a hard man, a cruel man. She couldn’t imagine anyone or anything being able to penetrate that hard exterior he wore like armor. But somehow, she had.

  “I can tell you’re having a hard time believing I could ever love. There’s some truth to that, I suppose. There was a time when I would have said you were right. I couldn’t love…until you. That’s how I knew you were mine.” He leaned forward and cradled her face in his hands, his eyes glinting with a searing heat that took her breath. “You’re it for me, baby. When I’d watch you on television it felt like you were talking to me—like we were the only tw
o people in the world. I love you so fucking much, baby.”

  “But--”

  “Shhh,” he said softly as he shook his head. “You’ll learn to love me, in time. As much as I get off on how hard you fight me, I’m not stupid; I know you need more time. So I’m trying to be patient. But when it comes to your safety, I’m not going to wait.”

  “If I don’t agree, you’re going to do it anyway.”

  He simply shrugged. He didn’t disagree.

  “Will it hurt?”

  “Excruciatingly,” he purred mockingly, giving her a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and, in spite of herself, warmed her heart. He didn’t wait, just moved over to sit on the side of the bed.

  “Lie back,” he ordered quietly as he placed her laptop on the nightstand. He slid the neckline of her negligee down, giving him access to her shoulder. The alcohol swab chilled her skin and she instinctively tensed up. He glanced up. “Relax, baby. It’ll hurt less that way.”

  She winced at the prick of the needle as he injected the tiny chip under her skin. Before she could think better of it, she blurted, “Are you doing this to protect me or to stalk me?”

  “Both,” he answered, his eyes clear and unashamed. His gaze took on a cold cast that was unsettling and she had to look away. “I’ll do anything to keep you; I’m not ashamed of that. You belong to me. Like I said, in time you’ll learn to love me.”

  He closed the case and stood, speaking briskly. “The sooner you do that, the better. I can’t see where it will benefit you to be married to a man you don’t love. Give in to the inevitable, Valentina, and I’ll cherish you until the day I die.”

  He smoothed her hair away from her face and cradled her cheek as he pressed a kiss to her lips. He was halfway to the door when she asked, “Do you really think he’s coming after me—the stalker?”

  His lip turned up wickedly. “I’d like to see the fucker try. But in answer to your question, no, baby. I won’t give him the chance. I’m going after him and when I find him, there won’t be anything left but scorched earth.”