Page 131 of Veiled Amor

He was going to fucking destroy that man, piece by piece.

“Hold it together, brother. We’re almost there,” Texas leaned over his seat. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Capone had done things in his life he wasn’t proud of and some other bad things he never thought about again. Sitting on a plane, not knowing what he was walking into or if his girl would be there, was the most terrified he’d ever felt.

He waited.

And he held his shit together.

Three hours later, they touched down, and the men prowled through Miami International airport. There was no sense of relief.

The moment they were outside, “fuck, it’s hot,” complained Preacher while Capone connected a call to his old club. “What do you have for me?”

The voice on the other end answered. “A black Range Rover went through the gates a while ago, the chick was there. She and Cole went inside.”

A beat of fire pulsed in Capone’s throat.

“What’s the sitch look like with guards?”

“Two on the gate, a few around back. We got them covered, brother.”

“Gracias, hermano. We’re fifty minutes out.”

The call dropped, and the boys strode to the rented Hummer as he relayed the info to the others.

The directive for the boys was a simple one. Neutralize the guards so he could get inside. Capone was in no doubt there would be guards inside Cole’s house too. He didn’t fucking care. He’d shoot his way in if he had to. His old club brothers had weapons waiting on the other end for them.

“You tight, Cap?” A thick meaty hand landed on his shoulder from the back of the Hummer sometime later as they arrived on the gated street.

“Sí, Preach. You know what to do?”

“Have fun with some motherfuckers? Yeah, we do.” He grinned through the rear-view mirror. The big fucker looked like he was ready to party.

They stepped out of the Hummer as a group, and Capone slapped palms with his old buddies. Handguns were passed over, and Capone slid it into the back waist of his jeans. He’d ditched the leather jacket in the car, so he was left wearing jeans, a muscle tee, and a sleeveless shirt.

It was almost as if Cole wanted to welcome Capone because the mechanical gate was wide open. The guards were taken care of pitifully straightforward, he left the boys behind with the sound of Preacher and Reaper bouncing taunts between them about how poorly armed the other men were. He trusted his brothers, old and present, to pave the way for him, so he didn’t look back when he strode the long driveway toward the mansion.

Like a polite asshole who didn’t care to hide his presence, he rang the bell.

Further proving how much Cole knew he’d come when the door opened by a servant, and he ushered him in. “Mr. Mercado, please come in. Mr. Cole is expecting you. There’s no need for your men. Our guards have been instructed not to harm anyone.”

He ignored the man and stepped into a house he didn’t think he’d come back to.

The night he broke in without an invitation and found Cole in his office to put a bullet in the man felt like it was a million years ago.

At that, the man himself came along a hallway, meeting Capone at the split staircase in the vast tiled foyer.

The fucker was smiling. “You made good time.”

“Where is she?”

“Come in, Mercado, it’s hot, we’ll get you something to drink. We have a lot to talk about.”

“We have fuck all to talk about. Where is she?”

She appeared at the top of the staircase as if he’d conjured his Lucia, and Capone felt his heart settle into a steady pace, his eyes scraped over her to find her unharmed. Her eyes lit up, mouthing his name soundlessly.

He held her gaze as she froze. “Mi corazón, do you want to grab those pictures of your mom you said you wanted? Then we’ll go.”

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