“You think you can take him down from the inside?”
“No, but you can.”
“Fuck you!” I exploded, but my outburst only seemed to amuse him.
“How do you think Valentin Carrera and Brody Harcourt would react if they knew that you were behind all this from the beginning?
I clenched my arms by my side so as not to take a swing at him. “They wouldn’t believe you.”
“No, puta, they wouldn’t believe you,” he sneered. “Not when they find out you were engaged to my son.” His words sank low and hard in my stomach. “Not when they find out you gave him El Palacio to launder all Muñoz money. Not when they find out you lured Harcourt to his club and tried to get him killed.”
Brody was right, and betrayal hit hard with a vengeful hand.
“Cristiano.” I stared at him, silently watching as my misguided thirst for vengeance stole every trace of the fragile humanity I’d reclaimed. I was trapped, a pawn in my own game, with death at both ends of the board. Ignacio Vergara’s blind ignorance might have changed my fate, but in a cruel twist of irony, it was my own that sealed it.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
“I want Alejandro Carrera’s son to kneel before me. I want him to beg for my mercy, just as I did his pinche cabrón father.”
“Val kneels for no one.”
The glowing tip of his cigar magnified the hatred in his eyes. “He would for his son.”
My body stiffened, blood roaring in my ears as I made the connection between his cat and mouse game and his end game. “No.”
No. The ironclad will that moments ago looked my mother’s killer in the eye shriveled behind that one word. He told the truth. This was never about me or claiming either of our birthrights. This was retaliation twenty-four years in the making.
He warned me. I heard him say the words. I just refused to listen.
“Putting a bullet in your brain would be such a waste. Especially when your powers of persuasion could be put to much better use.”
“Against who? According to you, I’m public enemy number one.”
“There’s no truer revenge than an eye for an eye…is there, Adriana?”
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” The same word fell from my lips over and over, my voice breaking with finality.
Ignacio grabbed my chin, his calloused fingers digging into my bruised skin. “This sanctimonious act is getting old. Don’t lie to yourself, puta. Santiago is the heir to the Carrera throne. You’re nothing but an afterthought. A useless inconvenience. Without him, Valentin and Eden Carrera implode. It’s what you wanted, remember? Reclaim who you really are and stop pretending to be this pathetic shell of a queen. Besides,” he added, his knowing smirk sickening me as he loosened his grip to trace the traitorous dark circles shining under my eye. “I’ll put you back on top and make sure you live to see it.”
“You can’t want me to—”
“I want Valentin Carrera to remember my name,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he stalked forward, forcing me backward toward the door. “So you go back to Mexico City, Adriana Carrera, because I have a task for you. Don’t fuck it up, or I’ll kill you. But first, I’ll make you watch everyone you love suffer—including Brody Harcourt. I’ll enjoy the look on his face when he sees how blind he’s really been.”
* * *
I had to stop four times on the way back to Chapala to throw up.
The rest of the drive was nothing but a never-ending blur of cars, trees, houses, and static. By the time I pulled into the driveway and around to the back of the house, my head felt as empty as my body.
That’s how I felt as I stumbled toward the house.
Empty.
“Adriana!” Brody stormed toward me, his green and brown eyes blazed with deadly fire and the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.
“You’ve been drinking again.”
“You’re damn right I have. Where have you been? No, don’t answer that. I already know you confronted Ignacio alone. You don’t—” His hand flew to my chin and turned it to the side. “Is that a bruise? Did that motherfucker hit you?”
I didn’t know what to say. The truth would send him into a drunken rage, but lying was pointless, so I said nothing.
“He’s a dead man.” He spoke the words with such cold malice, I shivered. Diving both hands in his hair, he pulled at the roots as he paced. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Adriana? I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t answer to you, and you sure as hell don’t get away with stealing from me! I’m a goddamn Carrera!” His voice boomed, rage pouring out of him as he hauled me against him. “Do you hear me?”
All I could do was nod.
“That’s it? A nod? After what you did, that’s all I get?” Brody threw his head back and let out a harsh laugh. “Fuck this. I’m done.” Shoving both hands into my jeans pockets, he pulled out the keys to the car and his phone. “You won’t be needing these.” He tucked them away, and seizing ahold of my arm, dragged me inside the house. I didn’t resist. Truthfully, I was thankful for the help.
Once we were inside, he threw me onto the couch, where I collapsed, my body giving into fatigue and strain. My head lolled back, and I stared up at the man looming over me, his muscular body taut with unleashed rage.
“You need to lay off the booze. I’ll never understand why people willingly destroy their bodies. It’s disrespectful to those who never got to make that choice.”
“Thanks for the PSA. Now, explain yourself.”
“I swear, I—”
“Don’t!” he yelled, his fists balling. “No swears. No promises. Just truth.”
I winced at the disgust in his voice, but I couldn’t fault him for it. Truth was a two-faced beast dancing on my shoulders. Each whispered words of evil in my ear that would damn me if spoken out loud.
So, I gave him the only truth I could.
“Yes, I went to see Ignacio, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”
He stood still as a statue while I gave him a very abridged version of Rosita’s story. I told him about Esteban’s rank promises to Ignacio. About his ultimatum. About the affair and how Alejandro knew about it. I also told him how Esteban handed Ignacio over to the Carreras without a second thought.
I did not tell him about Cristiano.
And I hated myself for it.
“So, why reorganize after twenty-four years?” he asked. “Why implicate you? The shit doesn’t add up.”
He was right. It didn’t. Only because I left out pertinent information that implicated me.
“Ignacio was a hunted man, so he had to bide his time. After Esteban and Alejandro died, he only needed Manuel out of the way. Once that happened, there was nothing preventing him from reclaiming what he believed to be his birthright.” I shrugged. “He was the only one left alive who knew it wasn’t mine.”
“So, now what?” A distant black calm deadened his voice. “That’s it? You just exchanged contact info, and now you’ll send each other Christmas cards once a year?”
“What did you want me to do, Brody? Challenge him to a duel? You’re lucky I came back in one piece.”
I glanced up to see the tight lines in his face fading, his anger slowly dissipating.
He bought it.
A fact that should’ve relieved me. Instead, I’d never been more miserable.
He let out a heavy sigh. “You can’t keep doing this shit.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt, and that would’ve happened if you’d gone with me.”
He reared back, a stricken look crossing his face. “So, what if you’d gotten hurt, or God forbid, killed? What would I have done then?
I lowered my eyes. “Lived your life.”
“What life?” he roared, casting his arms out wide. “Christ, Adriana, do you understand I’ve felt more alive in the last five days than I have in the last five months?” He balled his fist, beating it against his chest with each word. “Do you know what it’s like to feel not
hing?”
“Yes, I do.”
Rough, ragged breathing echoed in my ears moments before strong hands landed on the back of the couch, caging me in. “Adriana, you are the only light I see. If you die, so does any hope of me living again.”
He couldn’t say those words. Not now.
“You’ve been drinking,” I repeated.
“Yes, but I’m very aware of what I’m saying.”
I tried to force him to hear words I wasn’t saying. “I’m not light, Brody. There’s nothing but darkness in me. Darkness you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“I don’t believe that. But you do, and if the only way for you to accept you are worth love is for me to accept you’ll never give it, then I don’t care to ever see the sun again.”
I shattered. A million pieces, broken and jagged.
Right there. In the middle of the day. On a couch in Chapala, Jalisco, Mexico.
There was no thought. No reservations. No hesitation. My hands cupped his face, the now thick growth on his once clean-shaven face brushing against my palms as I pulled him toward me.
My breath hitched.
And then I kissed him.
Reckless and without rules.
It was everything I never imagined it would be.
I covered his mouth with mine, sweeping my tongue against his as if I owned it. As if I knew what the hell I was doing. Brody stilled, his eyes open wide with shock.
This was a mistake.
Just as I was about to pull back, he let out a low curse and cupped the back of my head, pulling me back against his lips. I started the kiss, but Brody owned it. His hands maneuvered my face, twisting it to his advantage so he could dive deeper, taste more, take as much as I’d allow. His primal groans awoke a dormant fire inside me, and I found myself chanting his name in between kisses.
A low growl rumbled in Brody’s throat, and I found myself in his arms as we made our way toward the bedroom, hungry kisses now frantic and fevered.
Once we fell onto the mattress, he leaned back, and the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor drew my eyes up. He crawled over me, and took his time undressing me, revealing each piece of skin as if he were unwrapping a present.
“You’re so beautiful, Adriana,” he murmured, kissing his way down to my belly button and across to my hip. “So fucking beautiful.” His lips moved inward, his breath hot against my thigh.
I knew what he wanted, and any other time, I would’ve welcomed it. But not tonight. Tonight, I wanted his tongue inside the one place that only belonged to him.
“Brody…”
Hooded eyes gazed up at me, and then he smiled. He knew what I needed, and he waited to give it to me until I understood that asking for it didn’t make me weak. It empowered me.
His mouth found mine, his cock pressing at my entrance, hesitating as if asking for permission. I nodded, but he just stared at me, the want in his eyes relentless.
Say the words.
A surge of courage swelled in my chest, and despite the ruin that awaited us on the other side of that door, I gave him what he needed to hear.
“Make love to me,” I whispered, brushing a hand through his thick hair.
He closed his eyes as if soaking them in and then slowly pushed his hips forward, sinking inside me so torturously slow, every inch felt like a mile. When we were fully joined, he stilled, dropping his mouth and taking my lips in a deep kiss that took my breath away.
Then he loved me.
The muscles in his back bunched under my fingers as he moved. There was no frantic rush. No punishing thrusts. Just raw connection. We never stopped kissing, our tongues moving in sync with our bodies.
This was how I wanted it to end.
I was so lost. Our mouths remained connected, sharing the same breath as the tension peaked. “Tell me,” he growled in between pants. “Tell me in Spanish, I don’t care, but tell me.”
“Te amo. Me hiciste amarte, y ahora estoy perdida.”
And then he fell over the edge, dragging me along with him. Our combined groans were only masked by the sound of each other’s names. In the silence, Brody dropped his head in the crook of my neck, his damp hair sticking to my skin as I traced my fingers down the claw marks on his back.
Tomorrow we’d return to Mexico City, and everything would change.
Which was why I hoped Brody could only translate the first part of my confession. Even if he asked me to explain the part he didn’t understand, I’d refuse.
It’d be a blessing when I turned the only ones he did to ash.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Adriana
Mexico City, Mexico
We were three hours into the seven-hour drive back to Mexico City the next day when Brody turned to me, a deep line sinking between his eyebrows. “You’re quiet.”
I drummed my nails against my armrest. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“What I’m going to tell Val.”
He reached across the console, gently tilting my chin toward him. “You mean what we’re going to tell Val.”
I shook my head and faced my window. “This isn’t your problem, Brody. I’m the one who chased a ghost. I’m the one who dragged you to a club and put you in the middle of a massacre. I’m the one who convinced you to hold up a bank. I’m the one who harassed an eighty-year old woman. And I’m the one who went off to see Ignacio alone. I’m not letting you take the fall for my mistakes. Past, present, or future.”
Dios mío, just saying it all out loud turned my stomach. Was this the person I’d been all my life? Selfish without a shred of compassion for anyone but herself. There was no wonder everyone believed me to be the root of all evil.
That was all I’d ever been.
Brody sighed, running a hand through his unruly blond hair, the front of it flopping defiantly over one eye. “Adriana, you’re Val’s sister. He’s not going to kill you for acting like a Carrera.”
Amidst all the lies, my watery smile was genuine.
Because the irony was too poetic.
He wouldn’t kill me for acting like a Carrera. He was going to kill me for acting like a Muñoz.
“Besides,” he said, pulling the car over as he spotted the food cart he’d been looking for. “This isn’t over. Val’s soldiers are searching for Cristiano. Plus, I have another connection looking into it. Once we find him, we’ll shut both of them down.”
I twisted my fingers together as he pulled off the side of the road, my stomach roiling at the thought of food.
No, it wasn’t over. Just not the way he thought. The decision I had to make wasn’t whether to fall on my sword and protect Brody or to risk Val’s wrath and be a united front. It was whether to fall in line and protect myself or risk Ignacio’s wrath and be a ticking time bomb.
“Come on, Carrera. These pambazos aren’t going to eat themselves.”
I climbed out of the car, trying not to throw up as Brody lead me toward the crowded food cart.
One thing was for sure. I should’ve never kissed him.
* * *
We arrived in Mexico City early that evening. I planned to corner Val for some preemptive damage control, but he wasn’t home. According to Leighton, he and Mateo had urgent cartel business and had been gone most of the day.
So, Brody and I spent the rest of the night pretending each other didn’t exist. Not an easy task when just the mention of his name sent my pulse racing and my hormones into overdrive.
Considering where we were and the way we left things, we thought it would be best to keep this new development private for the time being. Besides, who would believe us anyway?
I spent my time alone, waiting for Val to return, lost in my own head until Ignacio invaded it. His gravelly voice echoed as I wandered the halls of the Carrera estate, the war waging inside of me tearing me apart.
“Val kneels for no one.”
“He would for his son.”
The walls closed in, moments away from
crushing me.
“You’re nothing but an afterthought. A useless inconvenience. Reclaim who you really are and stop pretending to be this pathetic shell of a queen.”
I stumbled as the floor tilted, slamming me against the wall.
“I have a task for you. Don’t fuck it up, or I’ll kill you. But first, I’ll make you watch everyone you love suffer—including Brody Harcourt.”
I gripped the wall, tears streaming down my face.
“I’ll put you back on top and make sure you live to see it.”
It’d be so easy to fall into old habits. I could never trust Ignacio, but he needed the Carrera name, at least for now. And he offered something no one else had.
Time.
But I couldn’t walk down this path and expect Brody to stand by my side. I’d never be his princesa. I’d be his enemy. A pariah.
There was no way out for me. If I yielded to Ignacio’s demands, I’d lose Brody and destroy Val. If I refused him, I’d still lose Brody and destroy Val. The only difference between the two was with Ignacio, the people I’d come to care about lived.
A gurgle stopped me in my tracks, and wiping my eyes, I peeked inside the cracked door. A white crib sat against a pale blue wall, and a navy-blue hand-painted crown spanned the area above it. Right below the crown was written, once upon a time, there was a little prince.
Santiago’s nursery.
I couldn’t stop myself. I went inside and leaned over the crib. Santiago lay on his back, his tiny hands reaching for the moon and stars mobile hanging above him. As if sensing my presence, his dark eyes turned toward me, and he smiled.
Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel Page 25