by Cora Kenborn
I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the rest of my life, but Brody insisted on hearing word for horrifying word exactly what happened. I contemplated lying, but in the end, I told him the truth, only stopping at the part where the government stormed into my apartment and threw down the gauntlet. I’d anticipated his initial barrage of questions concerning the fact I'd arrived alone and met it head-on with a rather convincing excuse of not wanting to uproot the only innocent family we had left. Especially since I had no plans to make my stay permanent.
Unfortunately, restful sleep never came for me. However, both Luis and Matty did—over and over in sweat drenched nightmares until I finally gave up around six in the morning and dragged myself into the kitchen.
After mulling it over the whole drive from San Marcos, I decided not to tell Brody I knew he worked for the Carreras. It felt wrong, but as much as I loved my brother, I couldn’t trust him. My good guy had taken off his cape and donned a mask. If I confided in him, I couldn’t be sure which version I’d be talking to—the hero or the villain.
And that really sucked.
I decided my best course of action would be to play both sides. I planned to pump him for as much information as I could and find enough damning evidence to sell out my future boss, the head of the whole cartel, and that Cortes guy. Whoever the hell he was.
So, I psyched myself up to bug my own brother’s apartment with the surveillance equipment Alex had given me—as disgusting as it felt. My first attempt ended with me pacing outside the kitchen, chewing off what little fingernails I had left as my brother leaned over the sink, gripping the edges and barking orders at someone.
I’d only managed to get one bug planted in the kitchen before he walked in.
“No, don’t come here. Because Leighton’s here and I don’t want you scaring her, that’s why. No, look, just do what you need to do, and we’ll meet up later. I’ll call you.”
I coughed discreetly as he threw the phone across the counter. “Everything okay?”
The hardened look on his face softened when he saw me. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Are you sure? I heard my name.”
“Just an associate from work. I’ll deal with it at the office.”
“Right.” He could never look me in the face when he lied.
An awkward silence settled between us, and he glanced at the clock, scratching the back of his dirty blond hair. “There’s no easy way to say this, but were you able to bring anything from Luis’s apartment?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? First of all, we have to pull your information off it. Secondly, maybe it’ll help us find out who else is involved.”
I considered refusing, but where would that get me? I barely knew how to operate my own phone, much less knew what to look for when hacking into a criminal’s software. As long as Brody didn’t suspect I knew about his cartel affiliation, he’d share whatever information he found with me. I had to believe that.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I have his laptop and his phone.”
“What about the gun and bloody clothes?”
“I threw them away.”
Well actually, Alex took them, but he didn’t need to know that.
His face tightened. “You did what?”
“You said to clean up my mess, so I did. I dumped them.” I had no idea how I forced my mouth to say such a lie.
He clasped both hands on top of his head and tilted his chin up. “Jesus, Leighton, of all the stupid—”
“Don’t yell at me, Brody. I just did what you told me to do, and I wiped everything down first. Don’t get all sanctimonious on me. You try standing over a man you just shot and see how fucking clear your head is.”
“Okay, calm down,” he said, dropping his hands. “Eventually, we’re going to talk about this, Leighton. I still don’t understand why it happened in the first place.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand silencing me. “In the meantime, we’ll just concentrate on pulling whatever information we can off Luis’s computer.”
“Fine.”
Guilt ate at me as a worried frown settled across his face. “Hey, how about I drop you off at Mom’s today? I don’t like the idea of you staying here by yourself.”
“I’d rather take my chances back in San Marcos.” That wasn’t an exaggeration. I’d sooner walk back into Luis’s apartment and call in my own confession to the police than step foot inside my mother’s house. There was a reason I hadn’t been back to Houston in almost four years.
Brody pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Leighton, come on...”
I fisted my hands by my side, poised in battle-ready stance to take on this fight when I replayed Alex Atwood’s parting words.
“Emilio Reyes owns Caliente Cantina.”
“You think a cartel member is going to hand me a job just because I ask for it?”
“No, he’ll hand you a job because your brother asks for it.”
The last thing I wanted to do was crawl out of the safety of my brother’s four walls, but if I was going to get both of us out of this mess, I had to play by the DEA’s rules.
“I’ll go stir crazy cooped up in this place all day, Brody. It gives me too much time to think, about...well, you know. Besides, I need a job. I can’t sponge off you while I’m here.” I waited. I bit my lip. I shuffled from foot to foot, praying my constant fidgeting didn’t give me away all while wondering how long it would take him to cave.
The answer? Less than half a heartbeat.
“A friend of mine owns a cantina not far from here, and I know he’s short staffed,” he offered. “I could get you a job waitressing. I know it’s not much money, but—”
“I’ll take it.”
He leaned against the wall and studied me. I immediately wished I hadn’t sounded so eager.
“It hasn’t been offered. I still have to talk to Emilio.”
“You’re the assistant district attorney, aren’t you?” My brother was no idiot. I walked a fine line that could trip his bullshit detector with one false step. Taking a deep breath, I crossed my fingers behind my back and balanced on my high-wire of lies.
Moments of silence passed before he grinned. “I’ll give him a call and set it up while you get ready. However, until we get this straightened out, the only two places I want you driving to are here and Caliente.”
“But—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “I’m not trying to be a hard-ass, Leighton. I just want you somewhere safe.”
I couldn’t help myself. “And that’s a bar?”
He kissed the top of my head before disappearing down the hallway. “Trust me.”
That was the whole problem. I didn’t.
The smell of oily corn chips and stale beer greeted me as I tore through the back door of Caliente Cantina. Brody called my new boss only to be informed he’d be occupied for most of the day, but I could train with his head waitress, Amanda. I wasn’t particularly interested in training or Amanda or doing anything but getting in Emilio’s face, but what choice did I have?
“You’re late. Prep work started an hour ago, new girl.” A tall man in a white apron turned away from a cutting board and pointed the biggest knife I’d ever seen at me.
Fuck this.
Spinning around, I ran toward the back door.
“Whoa, slow down, girl. Where’s the fire?” I glanced over my shoulder as a woman with short brown hair and a nose ring stuck her head out of a supply closet, her arms full of lined red chip baskets.
My whole life is one big fire.
I shook my head. “No fire, I’m just leaving.” This was a bad idea from the start. I should’ve never listened to Alex and baited Brody into getting me hired.
Jesus, I had to get out of this place.
“Wait,” she called out, stepping out of the closet. “Leighton Harcourt? Is that you?”
I had no idea if I was being tested or just plain punished—maybe both. All I
knew was when I woke up this morning, the last person I expected to run into was one of my best friends from elementary school.
“Amanda Nicholson?”
I wasn’t a hugger. A smile or a firm handshake would’ve sufficed, so her brawling tackle took me off guard, knocking us both backward and sending the chip baskets flying.
“Yes, it’s me! I can’t believe it’s really you.” Pulling away, she stretched her arms out and squeezed my shoulders. “Damn, you haven’t changed a bit. How are you?”
Determined not to let my mask slip, I forced myself to hug her back. She babbled on about what she’d been up to since graduation, but I barely heard a word she said. Mustering my most convincing smile, I motioned toward the main part of the cantina. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. I’m your new trainee. Where do I start?”
She slowly scanned my plain blue knit shirt and faded jeans. “Well, first you need to change.” She disappeared into the supply closet, and I avoided the probing stares of the kitchen staff until she returned, shoving two pieces of material in my hands. “This should fit.”
“I’m not wearing this.” I held up the tiny black tank top and cut-off jean shorts with my index fingers and thumbs like they’d just been peeled off a dead hooker.
“Standard uniform,” she said, staring at it with the same disgust.
“I’m just...” I swallowed hard. “I’m kind of modest, and this is, well—”
“Slutty?” She grinned and handed me a waist apron from a hook next to the timeclock. “Yeah, that’s by design. It’s trashy, but what are you going do when your boss is a perv, right?”
I held back a groan. “I suppose I have no choice. I don’t want to piss him off on my first day.”
I’ll take care of that when I railroad his ass to prison.
After changing into the uniform from hell, I wrapped the apron around my hips and followed Amanda into the hallway leading to the main bar area. The first window I passed by set my blood boiling. I was being watched, and not covertly either. The DEA guard dog’s dark sedan sat in a parking lot across from the cantina. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It wasn’t their first lapse in judgment. They’d followed me to work, and with Brody watching me like a hawk, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed. I’d inform the trio from hell that their operation was being compromised by their own stupidity, but Alex hadn’t found it necessary to make contact since shipping me off.
Amanda’s chirpy voice called my name, and I offered her a forced smile while making my way toward the bar. The sooner I gave the DEA what they wanted, the sooner everyone I loved would be safe.
I’d already planted the first seed by begging Brody to stop by the cantina for lunch. I hoped Emilio would be back by then, and I could watch them interact. Of course, he’d shot that down with an important business lunch excuse. Still, I held out hope that his protective big brother side would win out over his responsible one.
People tended to drop their guards around like-minded individuals. It was basic human nature. They forgot others were around while in familiar settings with familiar people and they slipped up. In fact, I counted on it.
Chapter Five
Leighton
Once the lunch rush calmed down, I snuck off to the back for a breather. It wasn’t like we were slammed anymore, and besides, Amanda was a pro and could handle it alone. Five minutes and I’d slink back in. No one would miss me.
Finding a darkened corner in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and swiped the back of my hand across my forehead. It was the first moment I had to myself and I wasn’t going to waste it. I knew my phone was tapped, but I was past the point of giving a shit. Pulling it out of my apron, I dialed the number I knew by heart, praying for an answer. When the voice mail kicked in again, my soul shattered.
“Hey,” I said, managing a lift to my voice as I wiped away tear. “It’s me. I guess this is the fifth message I’ve left and I just—I really need to know you’re okay. Please call me back.”
Ending the call, I hugged the phone to my chest, refusing to break down. My knees bent on their own, and I almost sank to the floor when a loud crash locked me in place.
“I have no idea. Why don’t you find out for yourself?” A heavily accented voice boomed from an opened crack in the door to my right.
Every instinct told me this had to be Emilio Reyes. I knew eavesdropping was a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop myself. Pausing outside, I leaned in and listened for more.
“Look, I did my part. It’s not my fault the useless piece of shit couldn’t get the job done.”
Taking a few cautious steps, I peeked around the edge of the door. He sat at his desk, papers and invoices strewn everywhere, his black slicked back hair and moustache illuminated by the bright glow from his laptop.
“Hey,” he shouted, his patience gone. “No digas mi nombre. Estás en una oficina pública, idiota.” Don’t say my name. You’re in a public office, idiot.
Understanding him wasn’t a problem. I found foreign language fascinating, and much to my mother’s dismay became fluent in Spanish fairly quickly. The translation wasn’t what turned my stomach. I’d been with Luis long enough to know when a Latino man got angry, shit was bad. However, when a Latino man got angry and flipped from English to Spanish, shit was about to hit the fan.
“Un momento, por favor.” One moment please.
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Performing a half twist, I slammed my chest against the wall and focused on what was in front of me. Unfortunately, it happened to be a few framed ‘employee of the month’ photos. Lewd snapshots of Emilio and whatever poor girl he’d conned into posing with him while he blatantly groped her chest. It disgusted me, but I stared at it like it was a fucking Picasso.
“Can I help you with something?”
His breath was hot on the back of my neck and it made me nauseous. I wanted to rip the damn picture off the wall and hit him with it, but at the last minute, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
You can do this.
“No, I’m new here, and I’m just admiring everyone’s accomplishments.”
God, that was horrible. He’ll never buy that.
“Ah, yes, you’re Harcourt’s sister. Leighton, right?”
I nodded, furiously swallowing, yet still drowning in my own thick saliva.
“That’s Monica,” he said, tapping the glass with a dirty fingernail. “She was such a hard worker. Always took one for the team.”
Gross.
“Was?”
“Whose position do you think you filled?”
I pointed to another picture. “And her?”
I knew exactly who she was. It was a test.
Game on, boss.
Emilio cleared his throat, his tone taking on a less enticing tone. “That’s Eden. She left.”
“Then why is her picture still up?”
“House-fucking-orders.”
Hostility. Interesting.
I wanted to push him more just to see if I could get him to crack, but by the anger vibrating off him, being trapped between a wall and his aggression was the last place I needed to be. “Well,” I said, painting on a brilliant smile and turning to face him. “Maybe I’ll be up here someday.”
“I don’t know, Leighton Harcourt. Are your skills good enough to impress me?”
My smile widened, and I held it so long my chin quivered. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
A slow smile crept along his lips, parting them to display a mouthful of silver caps. “Counting on it.”
I nodded, inching sideways. I’d almost passed his office door when he grabbed my arm.
“Oh, and Leighton, I heard you were late. I know everything that goes on in my bar. Underestimating me would be your first mistake here.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, nodding like a bobblehead. “It won’t happen again.”
He licked his lips. “I’m glad we understand each other.”
/> An hour after my run-in with Emilio, I replayed our conversation over in my head. I pored over every word and scrutinized his body language, looking for something to use as a starting point when a voice from behind scared the shit out of me.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Letting out a yelp, I whipped around to see Amanda, her perfectly styled brown hair now disheveled and caked with salsa and guacamole. Crumpling my apron in my hand, I gave it a shake as change jingled inside. “That’s about all I’ve made so far today, so with yours maybe I’ll have enough for the gumball machine.”
“It gets better,” she promised, then squished her face into a grimace. “Well, it gets not so shitty. You get regulars who’ll tip better, and the night crowd wallets are always more open.”
“Well, it can’t get any worse,” I grumbled.
“Not today it doesn’t.”
“Huh?”
“Your first table on your own and you just got sat with one hell of a hottie. I tried to take it off your hands, but he specifically asked for you. I swear, you blondes really do have more fun.”
I started to tell her that blondes also get into more trouble when I happened to glance to where she pointed. I didn’t know whether to be irritated or excited. “That’s no hottie,” I said with a sigh. “That’s my brother.” Leaving her standing there, I stomped toward the small table on the other side of the bar.
Crouching down, I whispered in his ear, “Business lunch get rerouted or did the governor have a hankering for shitty fajitas?”
I expected him to jump. Instead, he straightened his spine and cocked his head. “That’s a hell of a way to sell the menu, sis.”
Trailing a fingernail along the edge of the table, I shifted to stand beside him. He glanced up at me with a sincere smile, certainly looking the part of an assistant district attorney: crisp black suit, white starched shirt, and his signature red power tie.
“Life’s too short to eat bad food.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I really like the salsa.”
Liar.