Chapter Four

Javier Auberon stepped out of his gunmetal gray Mercedes G63 and deftly avoided patches of ice and snow, making it through to the immaculately shoveled brick walkway that led to one of Uncle Uzzi’s many incredible mansions.

The old Witch had a dozen, as far as Javi knew. A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted the rectangular wooden box tucked in his arm. A limited edition of the man’s favorite label made by a vintner down in South America.

A token of affection for the wonderful man who had always treated him kind while his late wife had spoiled him rotten with her home-baked sweets when he’d been a child.

It had been years since he’d seen the old Witch, and Javi was looking forward to it. His brother had recently inherited all of the property that had been held in their parents’ trust for him down in Quito, Ecuador, where they had both been born.