Because I stole his wallet last night.
“Is that really important? I think we have bigger issues to worry about, such as the fact that it’s way too quiet in here.” Tucking my hand back inside my purse, I turned my attention back toward the open cantina.
“You’d prefer a bar brawl?”
“I don’t like quiet.” I narrowed my eyes and glared at him over my shoulder. “If you were any good at your job, you wouldn’t either.”
Technically, I was right. A second in command should be patrolling the area with an eagle eye, watching for anything out of the ordinary. An unfamiliar face. An anxious stare. Eyes fixated on a watch. Especially with my former men edging dangerously close to Carrera territory.
“That’s Frankie.” He moved beside me and nodded at an older man sitting at the bar, shoveling chips and salsa in his mouth so fast I half expected him to choke. “He’s been a regular for years. Comes here every day for lunch, then drags his ass back in at night to drink himself into oblivion.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Maybe his job sucks. Maybe he’s in debt up to his eyeballs. Maybe he found out his wife’s fucking his best friend. Who knows? It’s not my business to ask.”
Before I could argue that everything happening on Carrera property was his business, he continued assaulting me with everyone’s life story.
His gaze shifted across the bar to a lone booth. “That’s Antonella Reyes. Her husband died about six months ago.”
“Emilio Reyes’s widow?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Puppy nodded, and I made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl. Emilio Reyes was once one of Valentin Carrera’s most trusted men. Not only did he own Caliente, but he also ran all stateside operations before becoming one of the worst traitors the cartel had ever seen.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I fumed, staring crater-sized holes in the woman. “Why would you let her in the door, much less serve her?”
He bumped my shoulder. “Put your claws away. She wants no part of the family. She proved that by selling this place to Brody for a dollar.”
“So, why would she come back here? Is she masochistic?”
I didn’t like the pity in his eyes as he tilted his chin and studied me. “Emilio chose the wrong path, but that doesn’t erase the twenty years she spent loving the man who didn’t.”
And just because Esteban murdered my family, it doesn’t erase the twenty-four years I spent loving the man who spared me.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. You know all about me.
Good for you.
“Hey, you okay?”
I vaguely heard his voice echoing over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. When I didn’t respond, he called my name louder and louder until the fog finally dissipated.
“Adriana?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” Shaking my head, I cleared my throat and pulled myself together. “I’m fine. Long trip and too little sleep. You know how it goes.”
I diverted my attention back to the bar area then felt a strong hand on my shoulder. “Look, I know it’s none of my business—”
“You’re right. It is none of your business.” Picking up two of his fingers, I slid his hand off my shoulder. “Well, this has been fun, but I think I’ll go freshen up. Point me toward the ladies’ room?”
He offered a lackluster motion toward the left of the bar. “Down the hallway to the right.”
Stepping behind him, I dragged my suitcase off the table and gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, puppy.”
“It’s Rafael.”
“Huh?”
“You keep calling me puppy. My name is Rafael.”
“Oh, I know who you are, papi.” Smiling, I tossed him a wink before making my way down the hallway.
* * *
For once, luck seemed to be on my side.
I stood in the bathroom with my head poked outside the door, listening for the slightest sign that Rafael Suárez had changed his mind and decided to get rid of his boss’s burgeoning problem before it could wreak any more havoc.
The problem, of course, being me, and the havoc being the fact we both knew I had as much intention of freshening up as he did.
But as the minutes ticked by, other than the expected clatter of pans and dishes from the kitchen, the hallway remained silent. Either Brody’s enforcer didn’t believe I had a gun in my bag, or he had this insane notion I wouldn’t open fire in the middle of the bar.
He was wrong on both counts.
The muscles in my neck twitched, my shoulder aching under the weight of my overstuffed bag. So even though it had only been a little over five minutes, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway.
The darkened hallway.
I paused, surveying my surroundings and absorbing the unusual dimness. I had to admit it was a little bizarre. The rest of the cantina had plenty of windows scattered along the perimeter, and the sun was probably almost directly overhead by now. Not that the lack of light bothered me. I felt more at home in the dark. At least in the shadows, I knew what to expect.
Pain. Shame. Hate. Betrayal.
Emotions as familiar as my own skin.
It was the uncertainty of the light that terrified me. Fear of being stripped of my armor and revealed to be what I’d always fought to never become.
Weak.
The air in the narrow hallway seemed to thicken, and with every breath, I felt my lungs filled with water. Dropping the bag on the floor by my feet, I forced myself to calm down. This wasn’t a shitty warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Within these walls, I was no longer just a girl dealt a shitty hand in life. I was Adriana Carrera. An heiress. Sister to one of the most powerful men in the world.
And that made the light my bitch.
So instead of drowning in the past, I floated in the present, and swam toward the future. Only one person stood in my way and maneuvering around him wouldn’t be easy.
Brody and I had a river of bad blood between us. We’d toyed with each other’s lives not for the love or hate of each other, but for the love and hate of other people. I forced him to set up a man I was groomed to hate, and he unsealed records for a woman he loved enough to let go. The nobility of each act depended on who you asked. Was a motive driven by revenge any more honorable than one driven by hope?
You tell me.
Brody let everyone believe he gave Saint Eden my birth records so she’d get off her self-righteous throne and follow Val to Mexico. He was praised for swallowing his pride and urging her to wave stolen papers in Val’s face, so he’d fall at her feet in gratitude and they’d live happily ever after.
Please.
Anyone who bought his act was a fool. Humans weren’t wired for self-sacrifice, and I doubted my dear brother believed in his pure intentions any more than I did. Brody may have spent years studying the art of persuasion and even longer practicing it in a court of law, but Val and I grew up in the court of the cartel. Listening to what was said around us gave us power while finding out the things that weren’t kept us alive.
However, I had to remind myself that trust wasn’t given freely in either world. It was earned, and so far, I hadn’t given Brody much to work with. To get what I wanted, I needed him amiable and compliant. In the last forty-eight hours, I’d killed his ally, threatened him, blackmailed him, and then topped it all off by stealing his wallet and his phone.
Not exactly winning any popularity contests here.
I suppose making a few concessions wouldn’t kill me. Technically, I was early. Maybe I could knock on his office door and offer an apology for walking in earlier while he was, um…busy relaxing from all the stress and tension from the…
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Fine, I’d apologize for barging in while he was beating his dick like it stole something.
Although it went against my every instinct, I bit the bullet and stepped forward just as Brody’s heated voice carried into
the hallway from a small opening where his office door was ajar.
“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve tried everything I can think of, Val! Reasoning with that woman is like trying to herd cats.”
As soon as I hear Val’s name, I knew “that woman” was me, and I didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. I didn’t come here to be his bestie, so I had no idea why the insult bothered me so much. To be honest, he wasn’t wrong. I was unreasonable.
But then I realized he’d delayed his conversation with Val, which was why he wanted me to stay away an extra hour. And exactly why I didn’t.
I strained to hear more, but as the lunch crowd began to arrive, their incessantly boisterous chatter caused Brody’s voice to become muffled.
Glaring at them over my shoulder, I willed them to burst into flames. “Inbred assholes.” I’d just have to move closer.
Just as I took another step forward, the toe of my high heel caught under something huge and heavy. My arms windmilled in a valiant effort to delay the inevitable, but it was useless. With my feet anchored to the ground, gravity took over, and my knees slammed against the top of the box right before my body propelled into the wall.
“Ooooof.”
“Hold on a minute, boss.”
I froze, my hands planted against the stucco wall and glass rattling under my knees as the sound of his footsteps moved toward me. Shit. Adding eavesdropping on top of all my other infringements wouldn’t bode well in winning over a king.
Thankfully, at that same moment, all hell broke loose in the kitchen. Glass shattered, men shouted, and multiple mothers were insulted. I held my breath as Brody stood right outside the door. One more step and I’d be up close and personal with a part of him I’d already seen way too much of. Thankfully, he grumbled and kicked the door shut.
Exhaling hard, I dislodged my foot and tip-toed toward his door until I could press against it. With the war going on in the kitchen, it made it almost impossible to hear, but I didn’t give up so easily.
As gently as possible, I gripped the doorknob and gave it a slight twist. With minimal effort, the door pushed open no more than a fourth of an inch.
Just enough to hear the end of an important conversation.
“I know it’s not a good time, but let’s be honest, is there ever a good time to meet one’s dead sister?”
Balling my fist, I gritted my teeth.
“Of course, you’re right. Look, I know Eden’s worried, and you both have a lot going on with the party, but I wouldn’t bring her if I didn’t think this threat was real. It’s not the first I’ve heard of Muñoz reconstruction and infiltration.” I caught a quick glimpse of him as he paced across the office. “No, I’m not hiding anything from you, Val. I’m not a damn moron. I just didn’t want to come to you until I had full recon and intel. Adriana has the name of the man leading the charge. It’s foolish not to hear her out.”
For a moment, I almost believed the shit he was shoveling. Then I remembered he was so desperate to hide his Chicago dealings and indiscretions, he’d sell his sick grandmother beachfront property in Colorado if it meant saving his own ass.
Hypothetically speaking, provided he had any family left.
Which he did not.
“Yet again, she won’t tell me.” I cocked an eyebrow at his tone. It bordered on mocking, a dangerous line to walk for a man in his position. I suppose he knew it too because he returned to his chair and slumped down. “I ripped the floor out from underneath her, Val. She wouldn’t trust me with her drink order, much less valuable information.”
That’s true.
“No, she won’t be here for at least another forty-five minutes.”
I laughed to myself. That’s what he thought.
After a long stretch of silence, Brody let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. I’ll have the pilot on standby.”
Pilot?
Clamping a hand over my mouth, I crept over to where I’d dropped my bag. Collecting my belongings, I quickly slipped inside the ladies’ room before being discovered. Once inside, I leaned against the tiled wall, the bag falling from my shoulder again. This time, I didn’t care. All I could do was stare at my reflection in the blurry mirror, the reality of what I’d heard finally sinking in.
This was it. There was no turning back now.
We’re going to Mexico.
Chapter Eleven
Brody
My patience was running low.
Bouncing my knees up and down, I watched. Tapping my fingers against my chin, I waited. Finally, seconds after the plane leveled out, the pilot’s voice crackled over the onboard PA system.
“We’ve reached our cruising altitude, Mr. Harcourt. You’re free to move about the cabin.”
Thank God.
I didn’t waste another minute. Unbuckling my seat belt, I pressed a hidden button on the inside of the arm rest, causing the back to recline and a footrest to pop out. The groan that followed bordered on obscene. Whether out of embarrassment or courtesy, I tilted my chin to the left and offered an unenthusiastic apology. “Don’t worry. Everything’s still tucked in and zipped.”
Silence.
“Adriana?”
Silence.
I popped an eye open to find the bane of my existence sitting across from me with her head bowed, waves of long onyx hair covering her face like a curtain. Her entire body was rigid, and all hunched over so that she looked like one of those weeping angel statues. In fact, with the soft sounds coming from the other side of the plane, she could even be…
No way.
I glanced at her again. “Are you praying?”
Adriana slowly lifted her head, her thick hair falling back to reveal a clenched jaw, thinned lips, and a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “What? Like I can’t pray?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You think I’m going to burst into flames or something?”
“Damn, forget I asked.” I rolled back over, perfectly content to doze off and dream of a world where Adriana Carrera skipped her ass back to wherever the fuck she came from.
The hell of the last few days had just started melting away when disturbing noises assaulted my ears. Gagging would be too tame of a word. It was more like an overweight cat coughing up another cat. I opened my eyes to find Adriana, crouched forward with one hand clamped over her mouth while the other frantically patted down every inch of the recliner. She wore the look of a woman about to defile a multi-million-dollar jet.
“You’re not gonna puke, are you?”
Giving up on her quest, she scowled before closing her eyes and sinking back into the chair. “No. I’ll be fine once this death box levels out.”
“Well, then you might have a problem since that happened five minutes ago.”
Her eyes popped open, and she gripped the arms of the chair with such force, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of those red nails slashed through the leather. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“Sorry, princesa. Maybe you missed the announcement from the cockpit while you were wheeling and dealing with the man upstairs.” I jabbed my finger in the air a few times for emphasis.
She opened her mouth and took a deep breath. But instead of insulting me, she rubbed her temples, releasing her breath with a slight frown. “I hate flying.”
“I’m shocked. You hide it so well.”
She rolled her chin toward me, eyes blazing. I had her riled up, and it was about time. The woman was a pain in my ass who blackmailed her way onto a kingpin’s private jet, but at least she was a distraction.
The brief moment of peace ended as the curtain at the front of the jet parted. Immediately, Adriana’s walls shot back up, and she glared at the flight attendant as she made her way toward me.
“Mr. Harcourt…” Turning, she smiled brilliantly at Adriana, who scanned the woman’s navy-blue pantsuit like it was loaded with contraband. “Miss Carrera, would you like anything to drink?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from
laughing. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, thanks, Tia.” I motioned toward Adriana. “She’ll have water and a barf bag.”
Giving a small tight smile, she nodded, disappearing as quietly as she’d appeared.
“You drink too much,” Adriana grumbled.
“You talk too much.” It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if Tia had anything to dislodge the stick from someone’s ass when the plane dropped, leaving my stomach hovering about two feet above the rest of me.
I grasped the chair just as Adriana let out a high-pitched scream.
“It’s just a little turbulence,” I assured her. “We hit an air pocket. It’s fine.”
“Couldn’t you have just rented a car?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because a nineteen-hour road trip with you would have been so enjoyable.” That was when I noticed she had her arms wrapped around her body, and she was shaking. The woman who led an entire cartel actually had a horrific fear of flying. Everything about me was designed to seek out weakness and exploit it. Adriana’s shield was up most of the time, but no one could run from demons at forty-one thousand feet. This was my chance. I should go in for the kill.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, you’re two-thousand times more likely to be in a car crash than a plane crash.”
Or I could toss out random statistics to help the enemy.
Whatever.
“Yes, but if I’m in a car crash, I have a chance of surviving. If this abomination of gravity goes down, they’ll have to piece us back together like a damn puzzle.” As if the mental image wasn’t enough, she put her fists together then opened her palms and threw her arms out wide in a physical reenactment of our deaths.
I dismissed her dramatics with a wave of my hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. If that happened, the engine would explode, and we’d fry to a crisp before even hitting the ground.”
Just a little dig to remind her who called the shots once we hit Mexican soil.
Crossing her arms, she turned her back to me. “Don’t talk to me until we’re on solid ground.”
Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel Page 9