Playboy (The Trident Series II: BRAVO Team #4)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ramon stood in his study, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey, cigar smoke, and sex. Dark velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing nothing but blackness beyond. A smooth, sultry melody played in the background, mixing with the breathy moans of the naked woman bent over the arm of his leather couch.

He gripped her hips firmly, his mind far from the present moment, lost in a whirlpool of rage and grief. Since losing his brother, Lorenzo, Ramon had been drowning in women, liquor, and anything to numb the pain. He hadn’t even asked this woman’s name, and he didn’t care to. She was just another distraction, another way to silence the storm growing inside him.

His movements grew more urgent, desperate even, the need for release building within him, when suddenly his phone rang, cutting through the music and the woman’s soft cries. A growl of frustration escaped his lips, and he glanced at the screen. Tyson. The name alone brought a halt to everything. His contact at the DEA would only be calling if there was something new, something about Lorenzo.

With a cold, detached motion, he pulled away from the woman, her disappointed pout barely registering in his mind. He gestured sharply toward the door, dismissing her without a word. She hesitated for a second, her lips forming a sulk, but when she saw the hard set of his jaw, she gathered her clothes and left without a sound.

Ramon swiped the phone off the desk and answered, pacing as his pulse quickened. “What have you got?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy air.

Tyson wasted no time. “I’ve been digging through the Coast Guard's report on the incident involving Lorenzo,” he began. “Turns out, Lorenzo tried to take over the sub while the authorities were offloading the cocaine. He almost got away with it, too, but another Coast Guard boat intercepted him. They crashed right into him, purposely.”

Ramon’s heart pounded in his chest. “So they murdered him,” he said flatly, the words thick with venom.

Tyson hesitated for just a moment. “Looks like it. But here’s the kicker—the driver of that boat survived. Barely. She’s been in the hospital ever since, in bad shape.”

Ramon’s grip tightened on his phone, his knuckles white. “A woman?” The revelation hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Yeah. Her name’s Gabriella Allen from Virginia Beach.”

Ramon was silent for a moment, letting the name sink in, the pieces clicking together in his mind. He stared out into the blackness beyond the windows, his thoughts a twisted blend of fury and cold calculation.

“Virginia Beach,” Ramon muttered under his breath

“Yeah. I’ve got her details. You want me to keep digging?”

Ramon's voice was like ice. “Find out everything. Her routine, her family, her friends. I want to know every move she makes.”

After he hung up, Ramon stood there for a long moment, his mind swirling with dark thoughts. He crossed the room, grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his desk, and poured himself a drink, sinking down onto the couch where the woman had been moments before. The music still played, the smooth rhythm doing little to ease the fury tightening in his chest.

Gabriella Allen. The name echoed in his mind, igniting a dark desire for revenge. With a grim, determined smile, Ramon took a long, slow sip of his drink. He was coming for her.