4: Leon

Two days after his encounter with Catalina Reyes, Leon had more pressing problems than a waitress.

A shipment had been intercepted at the port, one of his men had gone missing in Little Havana, and a politician who had spent six months happily taking his money had suddenly decided he wanted to renegotiate their arrangement.

Dante was already waiting beside the car when Leon stepped outside. The moment the door closed behind them, he started talking about the shipment.

“The containers were flagged before they reached inspection. Someone knew exactly which ones to target.”

“Find out who,” Leon said, focused on his phone.

“We're working on it.”

Leon looked up, irritated. “Don't work on it. Find them.”

Dante nodded and continued through the details. Leon listened, asked the necessary questions, and gave the necessary orders. His attention remained on his phone as he read yet another blog post about the incident at Verve days ago.

He was quietly itching to drop everything and investigate the waitress who wore the pendant he'd been obsessing over for years. But he knew that was the least of his problems when another one of his shipments had just been seized by customs.

Leon had spent fifteen years searching for the child who had saved his life. He had never expected the first real lead to come with a sassy attitude and a warning not to touch her.

His gaze returned to the city outside. “Anything else?” he asked.

Dante looked at him through the rearview mirror. “You've been distracted.”

“I'm listening.” Leon glanced at him.

“Nothing else, Boss,” Dante said, returning his attention to the road.

By late morning, Leon had already buried himself in work. The port situation had escalated. Someone inside the operation had provided information to the authorities, which meant Leon had a traitor somewhere close enough to know his movements. By noon, he was dealing with the missing shipment. By three, he was in a meeting with the politician who had apparently forgotten how quickly Leon could make his career disappear.

The waitress barely entered his thoughts.

Until evening, when Dante placed a folder on his desk.

“The information from Verve you wanted me to look into.”

Leon looked up from the documents in front of him. “I didn't ask for anything from Verve.”

“No. You asked me to keep an eye on anything unusual.”

Leon leaned back. “And?”

Dante opened the folder. “Catalina Reyes. Twenty-four. Nursing student. Works nights at Verve. Shares an apartment with Elena Vargas.” He looked at Leon. “That's the information on the woman who slapped you.”

Leon glanced at the photograph. It was a student identification photo. Catalina looked younger in it, but the eyes were unmistakable.

“Any family?”

“Her mother died when Catalina was nine. No father listed in the records we found. She has no significant financial assets, no criminal history, and no obvious connection to anyone in our circles.”

“Where did she grow up?”

“Miami for most of her life. There are gaps in the records around her childhood.”

Leon looked up. “What kind of gaps?”

“We're still checking.”

Leon closed the folder. “Keep checking, then. Bring me something when you find something worthy of reporting.”

Dante watched him for a moment. “That's all?”

“For now.”

Dante took the hint and left. Leon waited until the door closed before opening the folder again.

He didn't like coincidences. The pendant was not merely similar to the one he remembered. He had spent fifteen years remembering its shape, the way it had rested against the little girl's chest whenever she sat beside him in that hospital room.

He couldn't remember her face, but he sure as hell remembered the pendant.

Then Catalina had walked into Verve wearing the same pendant.

Leon looked down at her photograph again. The little girl had become a woman he couldn't recognize.

That bothered him.

He had built his life around reading people before they became problems. He knew when someone was lying, when someone was afraid, and when someone wanted something from him.

Catalina had looked him directly in the eye and told him to keep his hands to himself. There had been no calculation in it. No attempt to impress him. No fear. Just anger.

Leon closed the folder and went back to work.

When Dante returned to his office later, Leon had stared at the same spot on the wall long enough to imagine a hole there, trying to figure out exactly who Catalina was.

“Find out who she is,” he said as soon as Dante stepped into the office.

Dante stopped beside the desk. “I thought we already did.”

“Find out everything.” Leon threw a glance at the picture now lying on his table.

“Understood.”

“And don't approach her.”

Dante nodded.

Two nights later, Leon returned to Verve. He had a meeting with one of his contacts, and Verve was one of several places he used for conversations that didn't belong on paper. That was the reason he gave himself, anyway.

He took the same private booth. The staff recognized him immediately, and Marcus arrived with the careful expression of a man who had no desire to become involved in whatever had happened between his waitress and the most dangerous customer in his club.

“Mr. Varelli.” Marcus smiled awkwardly as he set the tray on the table.

Leon nodded.

Marcus glanced toward the main floor. “Catalina isn't assigned to this section tonight.”

Leon looked at him.

Marcus immediately looked uncomfortable. “I only thought you might—”

“I didn't ask.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marcus left.

Dante settled into the seat opposite him. “You're looking for her.”

Leon poured himself a drink. “No.”

Dante gave him a look, but Leon ignored it.

He didn't have to wait long.

Catalina appeared on the far side of the room carrying a tray. She was wearing a black dress tonight, her hair pulled back, the silver pendant resting against her collarbone.

She looked perfectly comfortable. That was the first thing Leon noticed.

The second was that she hadn't looked toward his booth once. She moved through the club with the same confidence she'd shown the first night, laughing with one table and arguing playfully with another customer who was clearly enjoying the attention.

She wasn't pretending to belong there. She did.

Leon watched her until Marcus finally sent her toward the VIP section. Catalina approached their table and stopped.

“Good evening,” she said with a professional smile.

Leon looked at her. “Good evening.”

She glanced at the empty glasses. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Then I assume Marcus sent me here because you're planning to complain about the service.”

“I wanted to speak with you,” Leon admitted.

Dante looked down at his drink.

The professional smile disappeared. Catalina folded her arms, an annoyed look resting on her face, but she didn't walk away.

Leon studied her face. “Where did you get the pendant?”

Her hand immediately went to it. “An apology first would be a better start.”

Dante scoffed, hiding a laugh behind the rim of his glass.

“I apologize for grabbing you the way I did the last time I was here without permission. I didn't mean to grope you,” Leon said.

Dante raised a surprised eyebrow at his boss but said nothing.

“Apology accepted,” she said. “Can I go now?”

“If you don't mind, I would like to know about your necklace.”

“A polite asshole,” she muttered. “It was a gift from my mother.”

“What's her name?”

Catalina's expression changed. The question had reached somewhere beneath her usual sarcasm.

“Why?”

Leon held her gaze. “I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you one.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Catalina's eyes narrowed. “You've been watching me.”

“I've noticed you.”

“That's a very pretty way of saying watching.”

Leon didn't answer.

She gave a small, humorless smile. “My mother was Mariana Reyes. She's dead. If that's all you wanted, enjoy your evening.”

She turned.

“Catalina,” he called out.

She stopped.

Leon looked at the pendant again. “Where did she get it?”

Catalina's fingers tightened around the chain.

“Goodnight, Mr. Varelli,” she said and walked away.

Leon watched her disappear into the crowd.

Dante waited until she was gone. “You're going to tell her?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

Leon looked toward the floor.

He had a memory, a pendant, and fifteen years of unanswered questions. That wasn't enough to walk up to a woman and tell her she might be the child he'd spent years searching for.

He needed proof.