Wiping a stream of crema from his chin, Brody gave me a reluctant stare and mumbled around a mouthful of food, “Okay, I admit, you were right.”
Leaning back, I popped the last piece of bread in my mouth and grinned. “I’m sorry, could you say that again a little louder?”
He flipped his middle finger and swallowed. “Don’t push it.” Attacking the last bite sandwich with gusto, he crumpled up the paper, tossing it on the hood of the car before leaning back on his palms. “What was that again?”
“Pambazo. It’s fried bread dipped in red guajillo pepper sauce filled with papas con chorizo.” At his lifted eyebrow, I added, “Potatoes and spicy sausage. My mamá…” I paused and stared at my lap. “I mean, Josefina used to make them for Manuel and me all the time.”
“It’s okay to remember the good times with her, Adriana. She wasn’t a part of what happened to you.”
Tilting my chin toward him, I squinted into the sunlight. “Wasn’t she? Can you honestly tell me that hours after Alejandro Carrera’s wife, sister-in-law, and one-year-old daughter were murdered, and her husband showed up with a one-year-old baby that she didn’t know exactly what happened?”
Brody thought for a moment. The lawyer in him wanted to argue for the opposition but he couldn’t. There wasn’t one. “No,” he said, letting out a breath. “I can’t.”
“Just because there’s no blood on the hand, it doesn’t mean the stain isn’t there. Guilt is guilt. The only difference is the perception of severity. So, you tell me, which is worse, committing a sin or hiding it?”
Brody didn’t say anything, and I didn’t expect him to. If I hadn’t figured it out in six months, how could I expect him to do it in six seconds? There was no quick and easy answer.
“Come on,” I said, gathering our trash and sliding off the hood of the car. “We have places to be and people to see.”
Following after me, he leaned forward, pressing his palms against the hood. “Do you have a lead?”
It was a loaded question, but one I expected. I considered my answer as I chucked our food wrappers in a nearby trash can. Dusting my hands off, I turned around and winked. “I just might.”
“I don’t like when you get that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“That one,” he said, jabbing his finger across the hood. Just to rile him up, I turned my smirk into a pout, and he responded with crossed arms and a stony stare. “Don’t be cute. When your eyes get all shiny, I end up blackmailed into doing shit that could get me killed.”
He made it too easy sometimes.
Trailing a finger along the front of the car, I put an extra sway in my hips and sauntered toward him. “Aw, you noticed my eyes?”
A groan rumbled in his throat. “You’re such a pain in my ass.”
I had to admit, as much as watching Brody go from polished to prickled entertained me, we had more important things to do. “Relax. I’ve got a connection.”
“What kind of connection?”
“I know a guy who owns a club. There’s a good chance he might have some information.”
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, because I knew what he was thinking, and I was right. His face said it all. Eyes narrowed. Lips pressed tightly together. Arms still locked over his chest. “Don’t look at me like that, you’ll be fine.” His nod wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but I’d take it. However, when he dropped his arms, my eyes locked on the light blue tie hanging around his neck. “Well, maybe.”
He rolled his eyes. “What now?”
“Your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with them?” His confusion would’ve been almost comical if he weren’t dead serious. “This is an Armani suit.”
“You look like an investment banker. Did you bring anything else?”
“I brought black slacks and a polo.”
I pressed my hands over my eyes. If I made it back to Mexico City alive, I’d kill Val for this. I had to think fast. Waiting until we made it to Guadalajara wasn’t an option. I was good, but I wasn’t sure I could pull a miracle out of my ass.
Opening my eyes, I held out my hand. “Hijo de tu puta madre. Give me the keys. I’m taking you shopping.”
“The hell you are.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” Dirt kicked up around my heels as I stomped around him and snatched the keys out of his hand. “Now get in the damn car. As impossible of a task as it is, you have to try to blend in. If you walk into this place looking like a Wall Street Ken doll, you’re going to get us both killed.”
“Jesus, who owns this bar?”
I flung the driver’s side door open and paused, questioning my own sanity. “My ex.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Adriana
If there were a rating system for stash houses, this one would be a two star. A step above last night’s which would’ve received about fifty health code violations and a tetanus shot. At least I didn’t hear the sound of rodents running through the walls, and there were real beds instead of roadside mattresses. Plus, the shower had hot water and a tub that didn’t look like the remnants of a crime scene. My standards had seriously taken a nosedive.
However, there were so many cracks in the bathroom mirror, it was like trying to get dressed in a funhouse. I had no idea if my smoky eye makeup made me look like a sultry vixen or a rabid raccoon. Sighing, I tucked a stray piece of hair inside my wig and gave myself one last check.
“I’m not wearing this,” Brody called from the bedroom.
“Yes, you are.”
Our shopping excursion was an exercise in patience and restraint. Both of which I required not to kill him and dump his body on the side of the road. He argued with everything I said, refused to try clothes on, and sulked the rest of the way to Guadalajara.
“Stop being so dramatic. I’m sure you look good.” Giving my lips one last swipe of red lipstick, I swung the door open and froze. My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare.
Black boots replaced his pretentious designer dress shoes, and the tailored suit pants I had to pry out of his hands were gone. In their place were black jeans that hugged him in all the right places. Wall Street Ken left his starched white shirt, power tie, and jacket behind and got dirty with a fitted black button up, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was a mad genius or a witch with a death wish.
His eyes were still lowered as he held out his arms, the sleeves rolled up. “I look like I’m about to tie a woman to some train tracks.”
I wasn’t listening to a word he said. I was too busy following the sculptured muscles up his thick forearms until they disappeared under the dark fabric of his shirt. Before I could stop myself, I moved from the doorway and stood in front of him, my hands on his collar.
Brody’s head snapped up, his jaw going slack as he took in my dress. “Jesus.”
Folding down the upturned side of his collar, I smoothed it over the tight cords in his neck. The air between us crackled with unleashed tension, and the way he looked down at me had me struggling for words.
Clearing my throat, I lowered my hand and stepped back. “There. It’s fixed.”
“That dress is…” He swallowed and shook his head. “Damn.”
I felt my cheeks flush and lowered my gaze at the skintight red dress while trailing a hand over my stomach. “Do you like it? It’s your sister’s.”
He glanced down at the prominent bulge pushing against his zipper. “I’m going to defer to visual cues to answer your question and pretend like I didn’t hear that last part.”
I laughed. “Fair enough. Are you ready to do this?”
His response was quick and simple. “Not in the least.” Pushing his fingers into the small of my back, he maneuvered me toward the front door. Just as I was about to open it, he tightened his hold on my waist. “By the way, what’s with the wig?”
I was waiting for that.
Did I pick the color on purpose? Maybe
. Maybe I wanted to see how he’d react. Maybe I wanted to prove a point. Maybe I wanted to give him a subtle reminder of what was at stake. Or maybe a part of me had an innate need to correct the imbalance of power he’d created.
Glancing over my shoulder, I ran a piece of the bright red bob-cut wig between my fingers. “Camouflage. I can’t risk being recognized. It only takes one Muñoz asshole to spread the word I’m looking for Ignacio, and this will be over before it even starts.”
“So, this ex, how close are you two?”
“Not very.” My answer seemed to appease him. He ushered me out the door, the deep line between his eyes relaxing, only to reappear when I added, “I mean, how close can you be after breaking off an engagement?”
* * *
El Palacio was on fire tonight.
Flashing strobe lights flickered around the darkened nightclub, painting everything in shades of magenta and purple as the rhythmic beat of reggaeton vibrated the walls. Brody stood behind me scowling as I paid our cover fee, and I would’ve slapped him if it wouldn’t have drawn even more attention to us. He already stuck out like bright yellow caution tape. Causing a scene wouldn’t help the situation.
“If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience, could you take that stick out of your ass?” I hissed, tucking a wad of pesos back into my purse. “People are staring.”
“We waited in line for over an hour.”
“Your point?”
His nostrils flared, shifting closer as more people filtered in. “I would’ve thought the owner’s fiancée would have expedited entry.”
I groaned. “Ex-fiancée, and are we still talking about this?”
“You tell me.” Clenching his fists, he crowded against me. “Up until an hour ago, I was under the impression we were going into this thing blind. As crazy as it sounds, I thought maybe we were on the same side, but you keep doing shit to prove my instincts were right about you.”
“And what instincts would that be?”
Crowd. Step. Crowd. Step.
To the casual onlooker, our habitual catch and release ballet seemed like a mating dance. In reality, it was a never-ending chase between stalker and prey. Only the roles weren’t defined and always reversed in the middle of the hunt.
“That you’re hiding something.” He tilted his head, and the scent of scotch and sage hit me so hard I stumbled. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his chest and further toward the edge.
I felt myself weakening. Every time my head put an iron wall between us, my body reminded me it wasn’t the only one in control.
With one hand digging into my hip, Brody wrapped the other around the back of my neck, stroking his thumb up the length of my throat until it came to rest under my chin. “Maybe you’re being set up, but there’s something else going on.” He tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at him. “You can spin all the bullshit lies you want, Adriana. I’m going to find out what it is, and when I do, you’d better hope it doesn’t involve Val or his family or—”
“Or, what?” I challenged. “You’ll kill me?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push me, Carrera. You won’t like what happens.”
“Don’t threaten me, Harcourt. You already know what happens.”
His face boiled with rage, and at that moment I had no idea if I wanted to watch him burn and dance in his ashes or stoke the fire and get licked by the flames. Twisting out of his hold, I glared at him before heading toward the bar, his mocking voice echoing in my ears.
“So, do you actually have a plan, or are you winging this whole thing?”
“Watch and learn, counselor.”
I assumed he followed behind me, but I didn’t particularly care. By the time I pushed my way through the throngs of people, my walls were firmly in place, and it was showtime. No fewer than four bartenders raced around filling drink orders, sweat pouring down their temples. Leaning over the bar, I put my assets on display while watching their movements. When I caught the one in the middle sneaking repeated glances at my chest as he wiped down the bar, I smiled.
Folding my arms over the chrome railing, I painted on a seductive smile and crooked a finger, beckoning him over. Ignoring the protests and raised hands, he made his way toward me.
“Busy night?” I purred in Spanish.
The bartender’s lips twisted. “Are you going to point out the obvious or order a drink?”
“That depends…” Narrowing my eyes, I peered at his nametag. “Tomás. What’s the most expensive scotch you have?”
Dropping the rag, he glanced behind him at the rows of liquor bottles spanning the length of the bar. “I think we have some Johnnie Walker Blue. You sure you can afford it, mami? It’s twelve hundred pesos a shot.”
I had no intention of paying for it, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Make it two.”
I didn’t have to wait long before he set two shot glasses and a bill in front of me. “Twenty -four hundred pesos.” I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. “I have rules against running tabs for Johnnie.”
I let out a heavy sigh. I’d hoped to coax the information out of him, but it was obvious he’d played this game before. He was good, but I was better.
“I’m the exception to your rule.”
He snorted, turning away to take another drink order. “Says who?”
“Cristiano.” The name rolled off my tongue with ease. “Care to ask him, or would you like me to?”
Tomás froze, the woman waving money in his face forgotten. My pulse raced as he turned his narrowed eyes back to me. “Who are you?”
“I’m someone who’s going to have your ass fired if you don’t tell me where to find Cristiano in the next five seconds.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Four.”
Bending down, he dug a beer bottle out of the cooler and popped the cap. “I said, I don’t know.”
“Three.”
“You’ve got cojones, you know that?” he growled, handing the bottle to the annoying bitch with the fistful of pesos.
“Two.”
He was in my face before I could hit one. “I haven’t seen him tonight, but I can take you to his office.” He held up a hand as I indulged in a victorious smile. “You’re on your own after that.” After stopping to have a few heated words with one of the other bartenders, he rounded the corner and glared at me.
I slid off the bar stool and turned halfway around when I remembered the scotch. Grabbing a shot in each hand, I spun around and slammed into a wall of hard muscle.
“What the hell was that?”
“Why? Are you jealous, papi?”
“No,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “I’m tired of standing over here with my dick in my hand while you run a solo operation.”
Glancing down, I cocked an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t have your dick out in here. It isn’t that type of club.”
A low growl rumbled in his throat. “You know what I mean, Adriana. What the hell were you trying to sell over there?”
“Nothing. I was buying.” I held up the glasses. “Two shots of Johnnie Walker Blue.” Noticing they were half empty and the front of his shirt was soaked, a wicked smile curved my lips. “Well, now I guess it’s technically only one shot of Johnnie Walker Blue.” Shoving a glass in his hand, I pinched his drenched shirt between my index finger and thumb and winked. “But if you want the other one, feel free to suck yourself.”
The cords in Brody’s neck strained so hard, I was afraid they’d snap. As entertaining as this was, I caught Tomás’s impatient stare out of the corner of my eye. Clinking our glasses together, I poured what was left from mine into his and tucked the empty one into his shirt pocket. “Try not to get yourself killed while I’m gone.”
I took one step before he grabbed my arm and snapped me back. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get information. You really should keep up
.”
“Not without me.”
I laughed, and then his eyes darkened. Holy shit, he was serious. “I don’t think so.”
“Is that him?” he asked, nodding toward Tomás. “Is that your fiancé?” He growled the word with such contempt, I found myself torn between being wanting to laugh in his face and wanting to kick his ass.
I settled for jerking out of his hold and crossing my arms over my chest. “Ex-fiancé, and no. That’s a random bartender. However, he’s taking me to Cristiano’s office.”
“Then I’m definitely going.”
“Okay, pump your breaks, caveman. I can handle this myself. Besides, if you think a Muñoz associate is going to say shit with you in the room, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
I realized that was probably the wrong thing to say the minute his face turned blood red and a vein in the middle of his forehead started pulsing. “He’s a fucking Muñoz?” he roared. “Are you crazy?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” I hissed. “Yes, but he’s not a part of this.”
“You can’t be that stupid.”
This fucker wants to die tonight.
“Look, gringo,” I warned, jabbing a sharp nail into his chest. “Cris would never hurt me or betray me. I’m safe with him.”
“So now he’s Cris, huh?”
I threw my hands in the air. “Dios mío, I can’t with you.”
“¿Vas a venir hoy?” Are you coming today?
I glanced over my shoulder to where Tomás impatiently tapped his toe. Shit. I’d forgotten all about him. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I steadied my voice, leaving no room for argument. “Look, this might be our only chance to find out where Ignacio is hiding. Don’t screw this up for me, Brody. You’re not the only one who has a score to settle.”
He stared at me before finally exhaling a hard breath through his nose. “If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”
I didn’t say anything. What was the use? He’d only argue and waste more time. Besides, I knew his threat was empty. Cristiano had guards stationed at every possible entrance to the second level. He’d never make it past the dance floor.
Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel Page 17