Capítulo 0006

"there are not so many who know of the mater, but I do know what happened years ago, son." Richard said as he brought another cigar from his front pocket, pursing it between his lips as he added. "You grandfather himself had once spread the rumors that your mother ran off with another man from her clan."

>"That isn't true." My tone is careful and deliberate, but it makes little difference. The fact that I am defending my mother at all is the answer to his question. When she disappeared from my life at the age of one, the only explanation I was given was that she was a bad person, and I was never to speak her name again. It was ironic since I never knew what it was in the first place.

I used to always picture her as a small child as tender angel with soothing words, her love never ceasing. She was an Alison for me, the name seemed fit.

Richard gestured for my lighter, and I handed it to him. As he was lighting up his cigar he seemed to think far away, and taking a few puffs of the cigar he seemed to be settling on the right words to say. "The truth is, I'm not certain what happened to your mother, either. She was a good girl. Too sweet to be caught up with the likes of your father. If you do discover the truth, son, I would like to know myself." His words left barred. I did not ask for his blessing, but in his own way, Richard has given it.

He is aware of my true intentions, and I can do what is necessary now that we have come to an understanding. Richard checked his watch and abruptly decided the conversation was over. He announced that the meeting with his men was about to start, and social hour with with his chosen son was over. As he hopped off from my desk of my office and started walking away when he reached Joe, he shook hands with him before looking back at me as though one last thought has occured to him."There is just one thing I must insist on."

"Yes?" I cleared my voice.

"After you're done with her I beliave you're inteding on returning her back to her family?"

"Yes," I said agin, nor completly honest.

His nose wrinkles in distaste as he added, "No matter how beautiful she looks, or how tender her words might sound. She is a great trouble, that you have to steer away from once your problem is solved."

"I'm aware."

Leaving the door a bit open on his way out, I was left with Joe in the room. He seemed to be holding back his tongue.

"I was the that kissed you shouldn't be mad at her, I am the one who dessreves your rage," he said after taking a long sigh.

Taking my sweet time to pour the brown whisky in my glass, I said, "She is my sister, but sometimes it is had for me to understand her. You're my best friend, on the other hand, and I know you more than anyone else. I have told you not to get near, and I trust that you didn't, she did."

"But I kissed her back."

"When she feeds your heart to rats don't come crying back to me, I hit you for your own good to wake up a bit and realize the mess you're driving yourself in."

"But I love her."

The beautiful thing about a woman like Mara is that's all it takes. We are both too jaded to believe in love. She uses me for the void that Daddy left her, and I use her because it's uncomplicated. She does her best work on her knees, and there's no shame in that.Long red fingernails scrape up my thighs. When she sucks my dick into her mouth, I lean back on a sigh and finish off my cigarette while she bounces up and down between my legs.He flicks a piece of lint off his jacket, the gesture symbolic of a warning. "So don't get attached to her."What I did not anticipate was that she would be so lovely to look at. When Manuel offered up his prized daughter as collateral for a debt, I had decidedly painted her as a gargoyle in his image. But in truth, she looks nothing like him.A waifish girl, she is too thin for my tastes. Her body is the testament of a struggle between femininity and girlishness. Caught in the clutches of both, it's undecided of which she wants or needs. But there is no denying the unnatural grace she carries. Whether it's the subtle flip of her hand or the curve of her leg, she is almost inhumanly beautiful. She is elegant, manicured, and well groomed. In short, she is everything I am not. Yet when I first saw her, I was admittedly captivated to the soft-spoken beauty in a way that was unfamiliar to me. She is nothing like the Russian girls I am accustomed to. She is nothing like any girl I am accustomed to.She is undoubtedly intelligent, but the level of her naivety gives me whiplash. There is an innocence about her that provokes doubts in me. Doubts that are at odds with every value I stand for. The longer I endure her presence, the clearer it becomes. I would do well to stay away from her because she is of no importance to me. And as shameful as it may be to see something so lovely destroyed, it might come to that in the end. I must remember this. Whatever fate befell my mother, so too will Tanaka's be.

They continued up the stairs until the ground leveled out and Jessica found the familiar path winding through the thick timber to the estate. As islands went, in the surrounding sea between Washington and Canada, it was small and remote, no ferry even traveled to it. That was the way Dillon had preferred it, wanting privacy for his family on his own personal island. In the old days, there had been guards and dogs. Now there were shadows and haunting memories that tore at her soul.

In the old days the island had been alive with people, bustling with activities; now it was silent, only a caretaker lived somewhere on the island in one of the smaller houses. Jessica's mother had told her that Dillon tolerated only one older man on his island on a regular basis. Even in the wind and rain, Jessica couldn't help noticing the boathouse was ill-kept and the road leading around and up toward the house was overgrown, showing little use. Where there had always been several boats docked at the pier, none were in sight, although Dillon must still have had one in the boathouse.

The path led through the thick trees. The wind was whipping branches so that overhead the canopy of trees swayed precariously. The rain had a much more difficult time penetrating through the treetops to reach them, but drops hitting the pathway plopped loudly. Small animals rustled in the bushes as they passed.

And she had tried. She had tried desperately to drown out the sounds of chanting. The vision of the black lights and candles. The scent of the incense. She remembered the shouting, the raised voices, the sound of the gun. And the flames. The terrible greedy flames. The blanket of smoke, so thick one couldn't see. And the smells never went away. Somet

Jessica was furious. Furious. Why would someone suddenly, after seven years, send old newspapers and tabloids to the twins? Tara had innocently opened the package wrapped in a plain brown paper. The tabloids had been brutal, filled with accusations of drugs, jealousy, and the occult. The speculation that Dillon had caught his wife in bed with another man, that there had been an orgy of sex, drugs, devil worship, and murder, had been far too titillating for the scandal sheets not to play it up long before the actual facts could come out. Jessica had found Tara sobbing pitifully in her room. Whoever had seen fit to enlighten the twins about their father's past had called the house repeatedly whispering horrible things to Trevor and Tara, insisting their father had murdered several people including their mother.