It remained untouched, the house he’d built for his wife. The house he couldn’t get rid of. Daniel stood in the dining room, hands useless at his sides as he stared at the table in the center of the space, bringing their last night together into focus.

Not that he needed that imagery to remember.

They’d argued as he sat there, eating the dinner she’d prepared. She wanted things, and as much as he loved her he couldn’t give them to her. He’d done his best to give her the world, keeping her safe and protected while making sure she’d wanted for nothing.

He’d thought his job done. He’d thought her happy, and he hadn’t seen the emptiness she hid so well.

He moved to the table, pulled out the chair then sat in it. Head bowed, fingers tracing the patterns in the tablecloth.

She wanted children, and he didn’t. Not because he didn’t love his wife, not because he didn’t want her happy. He’d been afraid. Tempting fate by falling in love and marrying into this business was one thing. Petra knew the facts, she made a choice to be with him, to stand with him.

But a child.

An innocent child.

He remembered his life with his father. Eduardo never wanted to be a father, but he managed to bring three boys into the world. To him, Daniel and Antonio were employees and he used them as such. He barely tolerated his wife, too busy bedding the women he trafficked

Daniel didn’t want to bring another life into the world. But Petra wore him down, she used his love for her against him, and soon they were trying to get pregnant.

Trying and trying…

And trying.

The day she died, they found out she couldn’t get pregnant. The relief he felt was intense and swift, and she’d seen it. Petra knew him so well. She’d seen it in his eyes, that betrayal.

She’d slapped him. Not one word from her, just the sting of her palm across his cheek. The shame he’d felt in that moment had been immeasurable. After all those years, after everything she’d had to deal with. All the things she’d witnessed. The loyalty she’d shown him. The support. The understanding. And he couldn’t be selfless enough to give her the one thing she’d asked of him?

She’d yelled at him as he ate, after staying out late to avoid the inevitable confrontation. Then she’d walked away into their bedroom. Daniel followed and he’d stood in the doorway, watching her.

Beautiful, brilliant, the kindest soul.

Whatever she wanted, she’d get. Whatever he had to do, he’d do. He’d told her just that after climbing onto their bed and putting his head in her lap. Begging for her forgiveness, explaining himself.

She’d stroked his head, staring down at him with those big brown eyes. He’d understood his luck then, having her in his life. The choice she’d made, to be with him, had not been an easy one. Her family never quite understood or warmed up to him. She’d chosen him. He was happy because of her.

The woman who tamed him.

He showed her his gratitude then, making love to her, promising they’d look into adopting the following day.

But there’d been no tomorrow.

He rose from the table and walked to the bedroom. A thick layer of dust sat on the furniture in there. The bed was still there, the mattress and box spring. Beside that bed, on her side—the left, farthest away from the door—he fell to his knees. All breath was ripped from his lungs that night. His skin torn off his bones. His heart shredded in his chest. They took every single thing in one second.

“Petra.” He called her name, both hands grabbing on to the bare mattress. “Petra.”

Somehow he still expected her petite frame to enter the room, blowing strands of curly honey-brown hair away from her face like she always did. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?” she’d ask.

“Mi corazón.” He buried his face in the mattress. “Lo siento.” He’d made promises to her and broken every last one. Promises to protect her. To love her forever. “Lo siento.”

How could she understand when he didn’t understand it himself? How could he explain the unexplainable?

“Petra.” He lifted his head, stared up at the ceiling. “Por favor, perdóname.” He got onto the bed, a move so familiar, he had to slam his eyes shut. In her spot, he stretched out on his back, hands clasped over his belly.

With his eyes closed, he journeyed through the lifetime he’d spent in this house, in this room, in this bed. So much laughter, so much love. He hadn’t thought himself worthy of it for the longest time. The things he did outside these walls, horrifically inexcusable. But she made this his sanctuary. She made this place somewhere evil never touched. It was as though she purged all his bad deeds away the instant he stepped into their home.

But she wasn’t perfect. Hadn’t been flawless. She was just his, and though he’d known from the first time he’d lain eyes on her that she deserved more than him, he would never give her up.

Her death changed nothing.

He’d died with her, as he’d wanted it. Except Stavros Konstantinou touched him and breathed new life into Daniel’s numb body. Denying that would be to lie to himself, and Daniel couldn’t do that.

Not in this house.

It took strength he’d thought he no longer possessed to watch Stavros walk away from him. Even more strength to not immediately go charging off in search of him, and bringing him back to that dark bunker.

His body was interested in another man. Aroused by another man. Just admitting that sent his head spinning. He’d experienced nothing like that before. No man had ever turned his head or stirred his body. He’d thought he knew who he was, but that was no longer true.

Being attracted to Stavros called into question his very sanity when he’d been sure he was long gone off the deep end. He tried to imagine how his wife would’ve reacted to that. His betrayal for wanting the man who’d stolen her life.

He lived in Daniel’s dreams, all tangled up with images of Petra and blood.

Petra screaming, bleeding, and Stavros trying to hurt her.

Daniel having to make a choice.

Petra or Stavros.

Sometimes he chose Petra and she died in his arms. Sometimes he chose Stavros and he killed Petra in front of Daniel’s eyes. And sometimes Daniel forced himself awake before he could make a terrible decision.

Nothing he did was right anymore. Nothing he did could bring Petra back or erase what now coursed through his veins for Stavros. But he could focus on what he could change, what he could control.

The time had come.

* * *

Daniel walked into the restaurant, gaze straight ahead, hands in his pockets amid wide eyes, dropped jaws, and all around shocked faces. Back from the dead, and nobody bothered to search him for weapons as he headed inside the taquería for a meeting with Felipe Guzmán.

“That’s Daniel Nieto,” the men whispered among themselves loud enough for him to hear.

“Thought he was dead.”

“Crazy motherfucker can’t be killed.”

He’d made the call to Felipe himself. They used to be family. Now all they had between them was Felipe’s knife in Daniel’s back. Forget family.

There was no family in business.

Felipe thought him lacking in resources and support. Daniel got that in the two minute phone call the night before. He did nothing to dissuade that kind of thinking.

As he stepped into the taquería, Felipe was there, rising from his table in the middle of the place with a smile, flanked by at least five men with guns pointed at Daniel.

He stopped, and waited as they moved to search him.

“No,” Felipe said. “Show the man some respect. He is family.” He waved away his men. “Daniel Nieto has come home to us. El hijo pródigo está de vuelta.” The prodigal son is back. Felipe dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and wiped his hands before dropping it atop the table and walking to Daniel. “Mi hermano, so good to see you.”

“Felipe.” Daniel held out a hand to shake, but Felipe knocked it aside.

“Hermano.” He pulled Daniel into a quick hug before stepping back. “You have been missed.” He sounded sincere. “You and mi hermana—” He sketched the sign of the cross, kissed his fingers then pointed to the sky. “May she rest in peace.”

He’d braced himself for this meeting, but Felipe had his sister’s eyes and her coloring in face and hair. Daniel had somehow forgotten that. Just gazing at Petra’s brother made his throat ache, so he swallowed and nodded.

“Come.” Felipe touched his arm, and motioned for Daniel to join him at the table. “You hungry?” he asked when they were seated. “I can have them make you something.”

Daniel shook his head. “I am good.”

Felipe chuckled. “Never that. But where the hell have you been? We thought you were dead.”

“I had a bounty on my head. Didn’t know who to trust.” He shrugged. “I had to go underground.”

“Right. Fuck.” Felipe made a sound of disgust. “Snitches, huh? Fuckers need to die.” He sat back, gaze steady and heavy on Daniel’s face. “So why are you coming out of the shadows now? That bounty disappear?”

Yes, but he wasn’t telling Felipe that. “I’m sick of the shadows.” He mimicked Felipe’s position. “Then I hear there is a war and you’re in the middle of it?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re the man in charge.”

His former brother-in-law’s chest puffed up. “The people needed somebody, mi hermano. There was a vacuum when you left. Things got fragmented, and those loyal to the Nieto family were being exterminated. I took the initiative, you know? Banded the survivors together and created this.” He wave a hand. “Built on what you’d created.”

“I see.” Felipe had always wanted more. More power. More influence. He had an ego that needed constant stroking. His sister had been the one to warn Daniel to watch him, be wary of him. Which was why Daniel kept him as a solider, but with no true responsibility.

Interchangeable.

Felipe never liked feeling as if he could be replaced.

“My men and I—” Felipe leaned forward. “We’re grateful for what you started. The Nieto name is legend, and I know I’m grateful I had you to show me how things should and shouldn’t be done.”

Right. Daniel simply watched him.

“You need anything?” Felipe asked. “Somewhere to go? Money? Say the word.”

“So you are at war?”

Felipe dismissed his words with a harsh chuckle. “The Perez Boys are nothing more than a nuisance. Kids playing at cops and robbers. I can handle them.”

“You always were ambitious, Felipe.” Placing both hands flat on the table, he said, “You ask what I needed.”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

“You have something that belongs to me,” he said. “I want it back.”

Felipe’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

“My throne, of course. You didn’t think I’d stay dead, did you?”

A man like Felipe wouldn’t understand Daniel not wanting to take back what had once been his. Daniel gave him what he expected, staring into eyes so much like Petra’s that it was difficult for Daniel to hold his gaze and not flinch. Still, he managed.

“Daniel. Mi hermano.” Felipe shook his head, pity on his face. “Surely you must realize, the Nieto era has come and gone? Your entire family is gone, even my poor sister. The city—” He glanced out the window then back to Daniel. “She’s moved on. We think of the Nietos fondly, but that’s it. There’s no going back.”

But he forgot to mention the men he had out there at that very moment, hunting Daniel. “Is that so?” Daniel bit back a laugh.

“Look, don’t embarrass yourself, and me,” Felipe said softly. “You have no one behind you, and nothing to back up whatever it is you might have in mind. I know the Feds took away the money. You’re broke and alone, while I have the money, the man power and the resources.” He shook his head. “It won’t be a fair fight.”

Daniel smiled for the first time. “You’re not cut out for this, Felipe. Not if you think there’s anything called a fair fight in this world of ours.”

“But it’s no longer your world, is it?” Felipe narrowed his eyes. “Your shit landed on my sister. You escaped with that scar around your neck and that fucked up voice, but she didn’t have that luck, did she? She died for you. Because of you, and if you insist on staking claims I’m going to be forced to make you pay for what you did to her.”

“You’re welcome to do your worst.” Felipe wasn’t saying anything Daniel hadn’t already told himself. He lived with that guilt. Nothing Felipe could do to him would hurt more than that. He rose from the table. “Some of us are cut out for the low life,” he said. “And others, well…they’re good pretenders. Why do you think I kept you as my lap dog, always fetching?” He winked at the tightening of Felipe’s mouth as the other man struggled to keep his temper in check. “Salúdame a tú mamá por mí.” Say hello to your mother for me. He walked away whistling.

Outside, he got into the SUV with blacked out windows and no plates, Toro at the wheel, and they peeled off. Of course, it wasn’t long before they had another vehicle on their tail.

“He is the same,” he told Toro tersely. “Still ego-filled.”

Toro grunted. “But he is still her brother. Can you kill her brother?”

The question was valid, especially the way Felipe’s familiar eyes gripped him earlier. “She knew who he was,” Daniel said. “She warned me.”

“And he now knows you’re gunning for him,” Toro pointed out, expertly navigating the streets in an attempt to lose the tail Felipe put on them.

“That is the plan. He thinks I am alone. Without resources. Most importantly, he thinks I am after what belongs to him.”

Toro laughed. “He will learn soon enough.” He pulled into their designated spot, a shopping mall’s parking lot filled with cars. Quickly they hopped out and immediately got into the waiting silver sedan. They escaped Mexico City and got onto the plane sitting ready on the nearby airstrip.

The private plane was a constant lifesaver. Daniel was always on the move, from Mexico to New York, Florida, Seattle and Atlanta. He didn’t like staying in one place too long, and having the plane at his disposal made it that much easier to disappear.

Felipe thought he had no money. What he didn’t know was that while the Feds had indeed seized much of the Nietos’ assets, there were still a dozen accounts scattered around the world the authorities had yet to find. And they never would.

In his seat next to the window, he closed his eyes and settled in for the flight. Of course, every time he did that, he saw Stavros. The man haunted him. Which was why Daniel tried to keep busy. Always on the go. If he sat still he’d fall into that trap, the one Stavros set for him.

The one where he relived every second they’d spent together and wished it were longer. Wished there were more. More touching.

He shifted in his seat.

Dios. He would not go away. He would not leave Daniel alone. He took up space. In his head. In his chest. Stavros took up space.

In the seat behind him, Toro’s phone went off. “Mamá.” He whispered to his mother then ended the call before tapping Daniel on the shoulder. “I need to go see my mother when we land.”

“Is she okay?”

Toro nodded. “Sí.” He sighed. “She had a doctor’s appointment and she wants to discuss it.”

“The cancer.” Daniel sat up. “It’s back?”

Toro shrugged, but Daniel saw the fear in the depths of his nephew’s eyes. “She wants to tell me in person.”

When Toro had been a teenager, Patricia had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d beaten it, but Daniel was aware that the disease sometimes returned. “I’ll come with you.” He hadn’t seen Toro’s mother in a long time, and the younger man could use the support.

“No. It’s okay, I need to do this.”

Daniel patted the top of Toro’s head. “You’ll let me know?”

“Sí.”

“Take the time you need.” He’d find something to occupy his time.