Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel

by Kenborn, Cora

  “Fuck!” My release triggered his, and he gave one final thrust before roaring out my name, his body jerking as he came inside me. Exhausted and spent, he slumped on top of me, his chest molding against my back as his hand braced on the hood.

  Neither of us spoke a word, and the rain continued to pelt us as if trying to wash away what we’d just done. But that was impossible.

  He did exactly as I asked. He broke me, but it didn’t fix me. Instead of turning me into a blank slate, all he created were jagged shards of glass.

  Brody exhaled hard, his breath fanning against my neck as he pulled away. Pushing up on his palm, he stared down at me as I stood to fix my dress. “I should apologize.”

  “I told you to do it.”

  He shook his head, his blond hair now wet and stuck to his forehead. “Not for that. I sure as hell won’t apologize for what happened. I meant for not thinking clearly enough to…Adriana, I—”

  “You didn’t use a condom. I know.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you’re not mad?”

  “Look, I’m clean, and you’re still not over Saint Eden, so I know you are too. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s not all that can happen.” He said the words slowly as if I were a child. I knew exactly what he was implying, and I was tired of the inquisition.

  “I said, don’t worry.” Picking up my shoes, I headed toward the door, the earth squishing under my bare feet. I heard his footsteps close behind me, so I picked up my pace. Barely two feet from the door, he swung me around to face him.

  “Why did you say this was worth dying for?”

  “What?”

  “You yelled it in Spanish. Why did you say it?”

  Damn. I forgot he knew basic Spanish.

  “No reason.” I jerked away from him, only to have him pull me back.

  “Are you seriously shutting me out now? Now? After what we just did?” He flung his uninjured arm back toward the car as if it were a shrine.

  This was what I was afraid of. This is why I knew it was a bad idea.

  I tried to remember how it felt to hate him. How much I wanted to destroy everything good in his life when he destroyed me. But the driving hatred that brought me to Houston was gone.

  He broke that too.

  So instead, I fueled myself with hatred for wanting something I could never have.

  I curled my lips into a cold sneer. “What we just did was fuck, Brody. Nothing more. I gave you my body—it doesn’t give you access to anything else. Stay in your lane or go back to Val. I have no problem handling this on my own.”

  I’d just twisted the doorknob when his accusation hit my ears.

  “Or with Vergara.”

  I whipped back around, eyes blazing. “Are you deaf? I said by myself! I don’t want either of you.”

  “Does it matter what I want?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

  He didn’t move, his gaze steady as he watched me. I’d asked him to break me. My words. My request. None of this was his fault, yet I kept my eyes averted as I returned the favor.

  “No. Just chalk it up to a bad roll of the dice,” I hissed, leaving him in the pouring rain as I stepped inside the house. “You’re good at that.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply before slamming the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Adriana

  Typing out a quick text, I hit send and tossed my phone next to the sink with a groan. It was early for this shit, and the coffee was taking forever to brew. The half-hour of sleep I managed to get was anything but restful. Not when the man sleeping like a damn baby in the room down the hall invaded every minute of it with his sinful words and commanding touch.

  I hated him for it.

  But it did give me the excuse to get a head start on preparations for what I anticipated to be the turning point of this whole trip. Brody wasn’t going to like it, but since the sun had barely broken over the horizon, I still had time to figure out how to tell him without causing him to have a stroke.

  Propping my elbow on the counter, I slumped forward and tucked my chin into the palm of my hand as I counted the rhythmic drips one by one. Big mistake. By the time I hit twenty, my eyes were closed, and my head fell heavy into my palm.

  “Adriana!” Brody shouted from the living room, and I jumped. Disoriented, I blinked the haze out of my eyes and twisted around in a circle until my eyes landed on the full coffeepot.

  Shit, how long had I been asleep?

  “Adriana, get your ass in here!”

  Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, I filled it to the top with the now lukewarm liquid and downed half of it before sauntering into the living room and leaning a hip against the wall. “Yes?”

  Brody stood in the middle of the room, in nothing but a pair of black boxers, his hands fisted by his sides as he glared at the scattered artillery. Thankfully, I still had the mug shoved between my lips because it stopped me from licking my lips while I devoured his body.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  His irritated growl dragged me back to reality, and I swung an exaggerated glance around the room, then shrugged, swirling the liquid in my mug before taking another sip. “They appear to be guns.”

  “I see that,” he seethed, baring his teeth. “Where did they come from?”

  I pushed off the wall, trying not to wobble down the steps into the living room. Ignoring his heated stare, I bent down in front of him and picked up a shiny new Glock from the coffee table. Holding it up, I tilted it to the side and cocked my head. “Smyrna, Georgia,” I announced with a smirk.

  Brody’s nostrils flared. “You know what the hell I mean.”

  Of course, I knew what he meant, but I also knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Cristiano had them delivered early this morning.”

  As predicted, Brody’s sharp jawline twitched, his hand squeezing the gun as if he couldn’t decide whether to shoot me or throw it out the window. “Any particular reason?”

  “Probably because I called him and asked him to have them delivered early this morning.”

  He stared at me, and I stared right back. The standoff lasted until he let out a harsh breath, slamming the gun back onto the table. “It’s too goddamn early for this.”

  “Coffee?” I smiled, pushing my half-empty mug of coffee in his face.

  His eyebrows pinched together, and for a moment, I thought he was going to take it, but then he turned around and sank onto the couch, his hand dragging through his hair. “Okay, let’s start over. Why did you call Vergara and request…” Pausing, he shifted his gaze toward the coffee table while counting, “…eight guns?” Cocking an eyebrow, he shook his head and sat down, draping an arm across the back of the couch.

  This was going to get a little ugly.

  “Oh, I’m glad you asked. Because I thought I’d pay a visit to my childhood home today.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Okay, maybe a lot ugly

  “Cristiano gave me some solid leads last night when I was in his office. He said my family had secrets that would give us answers.” As soon as Brody’s mouth opened, I held up a hand. “I would’ve told you last night, but if you remember, we got a little sidetracked.”

  I remained quiet. Not because I had nothing else to say, but because leaving the ball in Brody’s court was a strategic move. It was time for him to put up or shut up. Either he proved he was all in, and I could believe him when he said he didn’t want to break me, or he proved me right when I said if given a chance, he’d drive a knife in my back.

  Which was exactly what I thought he was about to do when he pushed off the couch. “No fucking way,” he growled, pressed into me.

  His fiery stare sent a chill across my skin, reminding me how little clothing I wore. Not to mention what I wore. All I could find after storming into the house last night was one of Cristiano’s old T-shirts, which was another argument I didn’t wish to have with him.

  I had to stand my ground or get
bulldozed.

  “I don’t remember asking for your permission.”

  “Adriana, you can’t go to Esteban’s estate.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “You’ll be shot on sight!” he yelled, throwing his arms out wide.

  “A possibility, I’ll give you that.”

  His eyes bore into me as if trying to pick apart the warped patchwork of my brain. “You’re really insane, aren’t you?”

  “Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.” Winking, I gave him a patronizing pat on the chest before walking toward the kitchen.

  “I can’t believe this,” he fumed, tearing across the room. “You’re risking your life on a few cryptic words from Vergara?”

  Dumping the coffee down the drain, I whirled around. “Do you have a better idea? You have to check in with Val tomorrow. What do you plan to tell him? That we have a few irons in the fire?” Rolling my eyes, I curled my fingers into air quotes. “We’ve been at this for three days now, and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’ve got nothing.”

  “Val wouldn’t want you to risk your life for him.”

  I blinked. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about him.” His eyebrows drew up, and I palmed my forehead. “Okay, maybe it started out as a way to clear my name while working my way into the Carreras, but don’t you see what has happened? I’ve tried so hard to outrun Marisol Muñoz that I couldn’t see that she was the problem.”

  “How so?”

  “Cristiano told me to stop chasing ghosts and start opening up closets. He said they were full of skeletons that have been locked up for a long time.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I asked the same thing, and he just said this wasn’t about an outsider coming in to take over. That it was a vendetta, and if I wanted to find the truth I needed to look toward my own family. This whole time we’ve been looking for this enigma who’d come in and taken over what was left of the Muñoz Cartel. We’ve been racking our brains to figure out who it could be. Is it a former lieutenant? Disgruntled sicario? An outsider who saw an opportunity?” I pushed away from the sink and moved toward him until we stood only inches apart. “What we failed to do was see what was right in front of our faces. How could someone command control of a cartel unless they had the name to back it up?”

  Brody looked me up and down, his eyes clouded with doubt. “But that makes no sense. Esteban and Manuel are gone. People can’t come back from the dead, Adriana.”

  Maybe I baited that out of him. It was possible I dug that hole just waiting for him to fall into it. Unresolved issues didn’t go away just because bigger ones pushed them under the rug. Eventually, they crawled out and showed themselves.

  A slow smile tipped the corners of my lips. “Are you sure about that? I did.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat, and he chewed on his words before responding. “Are you insinuating one of them is alive?”

  And they’re back under the rug.

  I sighed, fatigue catching up with me. “No, I’m insinuating that just because something isn’t visible doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

  “Stop chasing ghosts,” he grumbled, stalking toward the coffee pot, his eyes wild. Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet, he slammed it shut and poured.

  “It’s cold.”

  “Don’t care.” Brushing past me, he stomped up the stairs without another word.

  I didn’t go after him. He was furious, and I got that, but I also didn’t have the time for bruised male egos. I’d give him until ten o’clock tonight, and then I was going with or without him.

  * * *

  Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico

  I folded my arms across the top of the hood and grinned. “Ready to open up some closets, counselor?”

  Brody climbed out after me, the look on his face not as pleasant. He was lucky I let him come with me at all after he made me waste two hours driving to Guadalajara and back just so he could get his own clothes. I suspected it had to do with me suggesting he wear one of Cristiano’s T-shirts since I’d turned his into a sleeveless crop top.

  Crossing his arms, he moved toward the front of the car. “No, but I’m not letting this asshole take a shot at Val.”

  My grin faded. “Right.”

  “Or you,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “You said being together was worth dying for. Maybe so, but it won’t be today.” I met his stare, expecting to see his eyes swimming in lies, but I found stormy defiance. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. As if expecting my silence, Brody nodded at the backpack slung over my shoulder. “Are you ready to face Marisol again?”

  Using that name wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was a dart aimed at my heart intended to dissuade me from continuing and proved his blindness.

  Darts couldn’t pierce what didn’t exist.

  Ignoring him, I latched onto one thing as I drew my gun and walked toward my past.

  As a precaution, we parked far enough away from the estate so as not to cause suspicion. However, it was an unnecessary tactic because the closer we got to the iron gate Brody’s stride slowed. A few more steps and my jaw dropped.

  “Well,” he said, lowering his gun. “I didn’t expect this.”

  That was an understatement. The estate where I grew up was a palace. A house built for opulence and excess. It was a labyrinth of mazes Manuel and I would purposely get lost in until someone sent a servant to retrieve us.

  Esteban Muñoz wanted the people of Mexico to revere him, and the world to bow to his power. It was why everything had to be bigger and better than the Carreras. A bigger and more lavish mansion. A deadlier and more heavily armed army. Smarter and more ruthless children.

  More, more, more.

  The more he pushed, the weaker everything became. The inside of our house turned chaotic. Our army turned on itself. And his children became self-destructive machines.

  However, it didn’t matter what lay behind the curtain as long as people believed what they saw in front of it. I wondered if he’d stand by that creed if he saw what had become of his precious legacy.

  The gate swung on bent and torn hinges, opening and closing as if daring us to enter, and once we did, my mouth dropped open. Large chunks of the three-level stone staircase leading up to the front were strewn about the lawn, and jagged, sharp holes existed where windows once stood. But it was the white exterior, barely visible behind a rainbow of spray-painted gang signs that had me stumbling backward into Brody’s chest.

  “You’re not going in there. There’s no way, Adriana.”

  Spinning around, I waved my gun like a crazy woman. “Why? It’s not like we have to fight our way in. Obviously, nobody gives a shit.”

  “Then let me go.”

  I let out an incredulous laugh. “You have no idea what you’re looking for.”

  “Neither do you!”

  I pursed my lips and glanced up at my childhood home, a distant memory humming low in my throat. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “Look, I appreciate the offer, but you would be more helpful watching my back out here and letting me know if anyone is coming.” I started toward the door when he pulled me back.

  “What am I supposed to do, strike up a conversation and keep the nice vandals busy while you sift through garbage?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Patting his shoulder, I stepped through the open door before he could drag me back.

  “Adriana!” he called after me, but I was already headed toward the only place I could think of to go. Cristiano said to stop chasing ghosts and open up my family’s closets. If there were skeletons hidden in any room in this house, it would be the one I was always forbidden to enter.

  Keeping my head down, I stepped over trash and cracked marble as I made my way through the deserted hallways. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stopped outside the door to Esteban’s office, closing m
y eyes and taking a breath before pushing it open. Stumbling through the darkness, I felt my way to the enormous oak desk situated near the back of the office activating the flashlight on my phone so I didn’t break my neck.

  Once I was seated, it only took a moment for the smell to hit me. Even in the destruction it lingered. Cohiba Siglo VI Cuban cigars. Rain-soaked earth. A dank, sweet leather scent that hurled me through a black hole of time. The smell surrounded me. It covered my skin, seeped into my pores, and killed everything inside.

  Just like he did.

  I gripped the edge of the desk until my arms shook. Spilling blood created this mess, and doing it again was the only way to end it. “Okay, Esteban, twenty-four years of silence for five minutes of my time. The clock starts now.”

  I wasn’t surprised when I found the drawer under the desk missing.

  Fucking thieves.

  Undeterred, I searched for the other four only to find the same situation. Flopping back into the chair, I curled my fists and dug my nails into my palms.

  Well, that was pointless.

  Time was ticking, so I scanned the room, frantic to find something—anything—I could get my hands on, but there was nothing. There wasn’t a damn thing that wasn’t destroyed, and to make matters worse, my eyes started to sting.

  I will not cry.

  I refused to let fear control me anymore. You could see monsters better in the daylight.

  Demons could only possess a weakened body. And the devil himself couldn’t take a soul without a battle.

  “I’m coming for you, Ignacio,” I announced, pushing back my chair. “And I’m pulling back the curtain.” With renewed determination, I stood and slammed my hand against the desk, knocking off something metal, heavy, and extremely loud. “Shit!” Scrambling around the desk, I bent down, and my fingers brushed against cold steel. I knew what it was without looking. That stupid pendulum. The one that echoed outside his office day and night. The one I still heard in my sleep.

  Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack.

  The rhythm pounded in my head, causing my brain to swim. I wasn’t surprised the vandals didn’t want it. It was a useless piece of shit belonging to a selfish monster who valued power and revenge over a child’s innocence.