Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel

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Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel Page 30

by Kenborn, Cora


  “Oh, your father and I had a very eye-opening chat. I learned so many things about you.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Enough for me to know every word out of your mouth since the day we met has been a lie.” I threw my head back, adrenaline pumped through me, fueling my anger. “Brody tried to tell me. He said you were dangerous. He told me I was blind, and you were giving me just enough information for me to hang myself.”

  “Mari…”

  “I defended you! I told him he was wrong, and I knew you. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. God, I was a fucking idiot.”

  “Brody was wrong! I would never hurt you! I was trying to protect you, but you ran off to Houston, and…”

  I swung. The jagged piece of glass I’d been holding clattering to the floor as my fist connected to his nose, bones crunching in front of my knuckles and within them. “Don’t you dare say his name. You will never be the man Brody Harcourt is!”

  “Will you fucking listen to me? Brody and I—”

  “Did you and Ignacio get a good laugh after you sent your text?”

  He held his nose, blood pouring between his fingers. “What text?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I’m not in the mood. I was worried about you, and this is what I get for it.”

  “I didn’t send you a text, Mari!”

  “Adriana!” I screamed.

  “Adriana, whatever he told you, he’s lying. He took me from the club and held me in this warehouse! But I got away, and I’ve been trying to tell you Brody is the one who sent me here.”

  “Do I look like an idiota to you? Brody doesn’t trust you. He’d come for me himself.”

  “He did! They all did. Brody sent me because I know this place.”

  “Right.”

  Sighing, he walked toward me, and I backed up. Without taking another step, he lowered his chin, shaking his head as if reveling in a private joke. “He said you wouldn’t believe me, so he told me to tell you not to make him come all the way in here just to force you to tell him everything that came after te amo.”

  The words were both a jolt of lightning and a bullet to the heart. I love you. The words I said to Brody after we made love. The only ones he understood. There was no way Cristiano could know that.

  I stumbled backward. “No…”

  “That man loves you, Mari, and it’s written all over your face how much you love him. I know you don’t trust me right now, and I’ll explain everything to you, but come with me, if not for me, then for him.”

  The room spun, and my heart thundered in my ears, the constant pounding way too fast and loud. I needed time I didn’t have. My hand hurt. My head hurt. It felt like the world pressed down on my shoulders, driving me into the waiting arms of hell, and all I wanted to do was spend my last few moments in Brody’s arms.

  I was weak, so I nodded.

  “Thank God,” he breathed. “Come on, there’s a back way out of here. It should be clear, but if we come across any lingering sicarios, I brought a friend.” He nodded toward the doorway where a shotgun sat leaning against the wall.

  Something that slowed my steps as Cristiano wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me toward the door.

  Santiago.

  “No!” Jerking away from him, I spun around, my back toward the exit. “I can’t leave without Santiago.”

  “Are you crazy?” he hissed. “Val is looking for him. Besides, you’re Ignacio’s prisoner. The two of us wandering around this place would be a flashing red sign. We’d be shot on sight.”

  He was right. We would be shot on sight.

  We would.

  We.

  I had no idea if he was telling the truth, but I hoped if he was, he’d forgive me.

  With my last bit of strength, I spun around, and grabbing the barrel of the shotgun, I swung. All Cristiano got out was my name before the stock slammed into the side of his skull, and he hit the floor.

  Stepping over him, I crouched near the corner of the room where I dropped the shard of glass. Holding it against the inside of my left wrist, I took a deep breath.

  No one would suffer because of me again.

  I made a fist, and warm blood trickled down my wrist.

  I didn’t mind. Blood reminded me I was still alive, and pain was fleeting.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Brody

  “Brody, behind you!”

  Spinning around, I saw a flash of metal pointed at my chest and pulled the trigger. I had no idea who I just shot, but as long as it brought me one step closer to Adriana, I didn’t care.

  “Bet they didn’t teach you that in law school.” Mateo grinned, blood soaking his right arm.

  “You okay?”

  His face pinched as if he were offended that I asked. “Fucker had shitty aim. Too bad for him, I didn’t.”

  We turned as a darkened hallway to our left lit up with gunshots, and Val’s very detailed instructions for the dead men to fuck their own mothers in hell.

  Mateo’s brow knotted. “I’m going to help him. Go find Vergara.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. Staying behind to clear the field while Cristiano played the hero ate at me until my skin felt like it had turned inside out. Now I knew exactly how Val felt when we rescued Eden from Manuel Muñoz. I got why it bothered him that I was the one to find her. I understand why he left us outside and risked everything to walk into a trap.

  Facing death was easier than facing a life without the woman you love.

  So, I ran. Hallway after hallway. Shot after shot. Body after body. I felt like a machine running on rocket fuel. Her name sat on my lips, ready to shout when I collided with another sicario.

  I raised my gun, my finger on the trigger.

  “Harcourt!”

  Seconds away from pulling it, I paused. “Vergara?” I lowered the gun and stepped closer. “What the hell happened to you? You look like shit.”

  I was being nice. Shit would’ve been a step up. The side of his head looked like roadkill, and somebody busted his pretty boy nose until it pointed west.

  He closed his eyes, blood dripping off his chin. “I’m sorry. I tried.”

  My blood froze in my veins. “Where is she?”

  “I said what you told me to, and it seemed to get through to her. She agreed to come with me.”

  “What happened?” I bit down on the words.

  Frowning, he stepped backward which was smart because I was five seconds from putting him through the wall. “She remembered Val’s kid. She refused to leave without him, and we argued. Next thing I knew she was swinging my shotgun and the lights went out. When I woke up, she was gone.”

  My breath came in short spurts, and a buzzing noise filled my head. One minute I stood there, and then next I had him pinned against the wall by his throat. “Where did they take her?”

  He wrapped both hands around my wrist, but he didn’t fight back. Didn’t kick. Didn’t try any low blows. He just stared at me, a strange sympathy in his eye as if he were preparing me. “I don’t know, but she’s a fighter, Harcourt. If anyone can make it, then—”

  Fire burned me from the inside out. Releasing him, I stumbled back, shaking my head.

  Then I noticed the trail of blood.

  Adriana was meticulous. Most everything she did had a reason. Cause and effect. Dominate and ruin. Sleight of hand.

  “Things at first glance are rarely what they seem. Dig deeper, and you’ll find the truth lies more in what you don’t see than what you do. Arrogance is the eye’s worst enemy, Brody. Men always make the mistake of looking at what’s in front of them instead of watching out for what’s behind them.”

  “Things are rarely what they seem.” I repeated the words, the beginnings of a smile forming.

  “Agreed, but what does that have to do with Adriana?”

  “Is that the room she was in?” He nodded, stepping out of the way as I bulldozed past him. The tiny room was barely lit with nothing but an overhead light.

&nbs
p; One overhead light.

  The other had been busted, the remnants of the bulb lay scattered all over the concrete floor. There was more blood in the room, and I followed the trail back out the door and down a long hallway to the right.

  So, I turned left, my smile now wide, splitting across my face. “Instead of looking at what’s in front of you, watch out for what’s behind you.”

  Horizontal lines sank deep into Cristiano’s forehead as he turned to face me. “Why? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m too arrogant.” I laughed, dropping my head with a laugh.

  “I could’ve told you that.”

  I met his eyes. “And I know how to find her.”

  “Well, then let’s go get her—”

  “Sorry, Vergara. No hard feelings, but I’ll take it from here.” Drawing my arm back, I punched him and watched him hit the ground. Adriana only needed one hero. And he’d waited long enough to save the queen.

  * * *

  Adriana’s reverse trail of breadcrumbs led me into a labyrinth of twists, turns, and dead ends. I blindly followed a maze with no beginning and no end, and what pissed me off the most was that I had no doubt Ignacio was somewhere watching all of it.

  Adriana and Santiago were running out of time, and I was done indulging Vergara’s mind games. If Ignacio wanted to play in Valentin Carrera’s league, he needed to step up to the plate and swing instead of hiding behind the batter.

  So, I tightened my grip on my gun and did the one thing that went against everything I’d been taught. I stepped in front of the bullet instead of firing it.

  “Adriana!” I called out, my voice echoing in the dark and deserted hallway. Pausing, I waited, listening for any remote sign of a response.

  Nothing.

  “Adriana!” This time, I didn’t hold back, running full force while yelling her name over and over. “Fuck!” Turning back around, I took two steps back down the same damn hallway I’d walked half a dozen times when the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head.

  “You look lost, pendejo.” One of Ignacio’s followers ripped my gun from my hand and pressed it against my back.

  “What can I say? The service around this place sucks.”

  “Walk,” he commanded, pushing the muzzles of both guns against me.

  I tried to pay attention to each twist and turn, but every wall looked the same. By the time we came to a stop in front of a large steel door, it felt like we went in another damn circle. He knocked twice, and a gravelly Spanish accent sounding like rusty nails on a bullet-ridden chalkboard answered.

  “Tráemelo.” Bring him to me.

  My brain fired electric shocks at the familiarity I knew shouldn’t be there. I knew the voice. I’d heard it in person. On the phone. Enabling me. Pushing me.

  Informing me.

  As soon as the guard opened the door, I took the steps on my own, my fists clenching. No one had to force me inside. I didn’t care if I walked straight into a bullet. I knew exactly whose gun waited on the other side.

  And after all he’d done, that Colombian motherfucker had better shoot to kill.

  He stood behind a metal chair at the back of a simple folding table. I didn’t know what I expected, a throne maybe? Definitely not some back-alley thrift store setup.

  However, my mouth went dry the moment my eyes landed on what was in front of him.

  “Brody…”

  Adriana sat in the chair, with what looked to be a nine-inch blade pressed against her throat. She was pale and covered in blood, but she was here. I wanted to close my eyes and savor the sound of my name on her lips, but I couldn’t show weakness. So, I held her eye, making sure she felt what I couldn’t say.

  I raised my eyes to meet the man holding the knife, his top lip peeled up, his gray goatee framing a smirk I’d wanted to punch off his face for weeks. “Ah, Harcourt, I’d welcome you, but it seems you’ve welcomed yourself, not to mention made somewhat of a mess in my warehouse.”

  I shot him a deadpanned look. “Carlos, or should I call you Ignacio? Which name do you prefer these days?”

  He brought a lit cigar to his mouth with his free hand, ignoring me while puffing on the end. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he swung a cold stare my way. “King.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head. “Want me to shoot him now, boss?”

  Ignacio waved a hand. “Leave us.”

  The pressure against my skull lessened. “Are you sure? I don’t think…”

  Ignacio rolled his eyes. “I don’t pay you to think.” Dropping his cigar, he stomped it out with his shoe. Before I knew what was happening, he reached for a gun, aimed it at my head, and pulled the trigger. All I could do was blink, waiting for the inevitable white pain of the bullet or the darkness of death. Neither happened. A heavy thud hit the floor, and I turned to see the guard lying on the concrete, half his face blown off. Ignacio blew out an annoyed sigh. “Good help is hard to find.”

  I didn’t have time to think about what just happened. Steeling my expression, I stepped out of the blood pooling under my shoe and made my way closer to the man who’d turned my life into a living hell. I had so many questions. So many accusations. So many threats. However, I couldn’t stop myself from asking the one word burning on my tongue.

  “Why the act?”

  He shrugged. “Entertainment? Come on, Harcourt, you had the pieces. You were just too stupid to put them together. I toyed with you. I even told you Ignacio Vergara was Colombian after you and this whore visited my mother, remember?”

  Jesus. All the information I gave him. It made me sick.

  “How long have you operated on the sidelines, Carlos?”

  “Long enough. I’ve watched all of you, but nobody bothered to see me. Nobody thought I’d have the cojones to come from behind and sink my teeth into both cartels’ jugulars.”

  “Because you’re a coward.”

  “You’re nothing in my world, gringo. I’ve been under your nose the whole time, and you never saw it. Plain sight, remember? I told you it was the last place people ever looked.”

  Plain sight. Two words that took me back to a Chicago strip club. The defining moment that set everything in motion.

  A tense breath whistled through his teeth, and another line creased his forehead before a slow smile parted his lips. “The man’s name is José Rojas. I don’t know how much you can find out from that, but that’s all I got. We both know their reach extends far beyond border walls. They’ve already infiltrated Chicago. If you ask me—”

  “I didn’t.”

  The smile on his face faded, irritation flaring in his eyes. “If you ask me, whoever has the balls to rebuild is hiding in plain sight. It’s the last place people ever look.”

  Ignacio pocketed the gun, his hearty laugh drawing my attention back to his smug face. “You fell right into my trap because you’re weak. You were so fucked up in the head wanting to defy Carrera all I had to do was give you the nudge.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “But Leo Pinellas—”

  He growled, digging the knife deeper into Adriana’s neck, the words died on my tongue at her sharp inhale. “I’ve been planning this for months, you stupid pendejo! Leo Pinellas was a puppet just like the rest of you. Who do you think was in his ear telling him to give you the goods on her?” He tightened his hold on the knife, and a tear rolled down Adriana’s cheek. “I knew what you’d do with it. I planned on it. I knew Carrera would be weaker without that Lachey bitch, but you couldn’t even close that deal, could you?”

  Blinding rage shattered my control. “Shut up!”

  I was coming unhinged, and the sick son of a bitch seemed to enjoy it. An assumption proved when, with a flick of his wrist, Adriana cried out, a trickle of blood rolling down her neck.

  “You’re being disrespectful, boy.”

  “Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

  He held my eye and laughed. “She l
ed your dick around on a leash, and you’re ready to die for her. How pathetic.”

  Letting out a roar, I didn’t think. I charged. The instinct to protect her overpowered the need to keep her close. “Adriana, run!”

  “Brody, no!”

  My body snapped back as an arm wrapped around my neck pulling me back. “Let me go, asshole!”

  Ignacio chuckled. “Run? She was with me all along, you fool. She told you as much in that piece of shit motel room, but you were too stupid to listen.”

  “Shipment for seventeen million, right? Disappeared near the Chicago port? Brody open your eyes. Every contact you have is being turned. You can’t trust anyone. Not your friends, not your contacts, and certainly not your informants.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Especially not me. I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  I turned a conflicted stare toward a wide-eyed Adriana.

  Panic flashed across her bruised face. “He’s lying! Yes, he offered me a deal, but I was telling you the truth when I said I turned him down. I didn’t care who I was...Marisol Muñoz, Adriana Carrera, I told him, and I told you—I bow to no one. Whatever I did it would be on my own terms.” She glared up at Ignacio. “Not yours.”

  “So, she went after you herself. How touching.”

  “You set me up,” she shot back. “I had no choice.”

  Keeping his eyes on me, Ignacio smiled and leaned down and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Is this where you tell your lover that when I made my offer you were hiding out with my son?”

  Chapter Forty

  Adriana

  The question on Brody’s face was worse than any knife. “You were with Cristiano?”

  “It wasn’t like that! I had no idea Cris was his son!”

  A laugh reverberated behind me. A sick and twisted laugh I felt in my soul. “You believe that?”

  “Shut up!” I hissed. He was messing with my head, but my nerves were raw, and my body battered. I searched the tortured hazel eyes I’d come to know so well. “Brody, everything I’ve said to you is real. That kiss was real. I know you felt it.”

 

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