Free The Dragon Delasangre by Alan F. Troop Page A

number?”
    The receptionist blanches. “Did I do something wrong? Mr. Tindall said it . . . everything was okay.”
    â€œEverything’s fine, Emily,” I say, though knowing what he’ll suggest, I dread hearing what Jeremy has to say. I wish Maria’s fool brother had never called. I have little desire to bring any more death into Maria’s family, even less to waste much time thinking of them. The girl’s death belongs to my past. Today I’d far rather dwell on my future.
    â€œI’ll be in my office,” I say. “Let Arturo know I want to see him there.”
    Of all humans, I trust Arturo most. He’s the only human I’ve taught the bends and twists of my island’s channel, the only one allowed to visit and leave unharmed.
    His ancestor, Xavier Gomez, sailed with Father when he left Spain centuries ago. Xavier’s sons and grandsons served on Don Henri’s pirate ships. They were the only members of his crew to survive his employ. “Some dogs will do anything for their masters, no matter how badly they’re used,” Father told me. “As long as they’re fed well. When you find a beast like that, you keep it and use it.”
    Gomez’s offspring settled on the mainland, not too far from our island, and it became a tradition that one son from each generation worked for our family. At first they just cut wood for us, hauled heavy loads. But as Miami grew, they became useful for other, darker pursuits.
    â€œPeter!” Arturo enters my office, strides across the plush carpet to where I stand by the window, staring out at the bay and the wide sea beyond it. The smell of his Aramis cologneoverwhelms me as he grasps my hand, pumps it in greeting, a broad smile on his square, clean-shaven, well-tanned face. “Glad to see you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”
    I disengage as soon as I can, back up—as much to escape the thick aroma that surrounds him as to put a little more space between us. He continues to grin at me, watches as I fidget with the few pieces of mail on my empty, mahogany desk. In turn, I study his silk tie, the way his custom-made, thousand-dollar suit hugs his thick body, the easy confidence of his movements—as if he owns all that surrounds him.
    He knows that he merely runs the company I own. But still, he’s far more at home here than I.
    â€œArturo,” I say, “I plan to go away for a while. I need you to watch the island, feed the dogs.”
    His face clouds up, his barrel chest swells and I know he yearns to tell me of his importance. He’s the president of the largest, richest company in the state. Besides massive investments in land developments, banks, office buildings, import and export businesses, resort hotels and banks, we own large shares of every newspaper and television station in the region. Their executives fawn over him, make sure, as he requests, that their editors never allow any stories on my family or our island. How can I expect someone who wields such power to be a house sitter and a caretaker to a pack of dogs?
    â€œYou’re the only one I can trust,” I say. “You’re the only one who knows how to navigate the channel. Jeremy will watch after things here. You can live on your boat in my harbor, leave food on the dock for the dogs.”
    â€œI thought you were worried about Jeremy,” Arturo says. “Remember, you were the one who called and asked me to check up on him.”
    â€œAnd?” I ask.
    Gomez shrugs. “So far I only have suspicions. But you know, without me here, Jeremy will rob you blind.”
    â€œI know he may try.”
    The Spaniard shakes his head. “No, he will try.”
    â€œAnd if he does, so what?” I ask. “We’ll find him out as we have before, take back what is mine and punish him.”
    â€œSometimes I think you underestimate him,” Arturo says. “And