Drawn Blue Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel

by Kenborn, Cora

  Who knew filling bar bitch’s shoes would be so daunting? While slinging drinks wasn’t exactly the best use of my particular skill set, as co-owner of Caliente, I had no choice. At least until I could find someone with half a brain who could mix a decent drink and keep her mouth shut.

  Not an easy task.

  Frankie let out a groan. “Aw, c’mon, it’s only two o’clock in the morning. It’s early.”

  I glanced at the clock and raised an eyebrow. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, and that’s why I’m calling you a cab.”

  “Fine, man, you’ve sucked all the fun outta this place. Blond guy needs to bring back blonde bartender.”

  Bending over, I reached under the bar for my phone to call him a cab. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got a better ass.”

  My phone clattered to the floor as I felt his palm smack against my ass. Letting out a growl, I stood, ready to remind him where the hell he was, when the front door opened and a dangerously low, rough voice rumbled behind me.

  “Franklin, you’re a good customer, so I’m going to give you two seconds to get your hand off my girlfriend’s ass before I shoot it off.”

  Frankie’s eyes widened, and he flung himself back into his seat, raising both hands in surrender. “Hey, just because I admire the car doesn’t mean I want to drive it, man.”

  I coughed into my fist, trying as best I could to cover my laugh as footsteps pounded across the concrete floor, the scent of sage clouding around me.

  Just sage. No longer scotch because Brody hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since my surgery.

  I turned to see the man I’d lived with for over a year standing on the other side of the bar, his arms spread wide with his palms flat against the wood. Intense hazel eyes held mine without remorse, and I curved my lips into a private smile.

  I couldn’t help but stare. He still took my breath away every time I saw him. The dark sin he exuded crossed all kinds of wires in my head. He was more dominant, and the ruthless control he held in just a passing glance brought me to my knees.

  I nodded. “Counselor.”

  Heat flared in his eyes. “Princesa.”

  Crossing to the other side to meet him, I placed my palms in the same position, our fingers touching. “Be nice.”

  A patch of unruly blond hair dipped over his eyebrow as he slid a hand around the back of my neck, drawing me to him. “Why?”

  “Because I said so.” My stomach flipped at the command in his voice, and even though a handful of patrons were scattered around the bar, it felt as if we were the only two in the place.

  “You know, this benevolent leaf you’ve turned over seems to only be geared toward men.” He nodded toward Frankie, who now swayed so hard in his seat, I wasn’t entirely sure both he and the stool weren’t about to hit the floor. “I thought women were all about equality?”

  “Are you saying I’m gender biased?”

  “I’m saying maybe I preferred the vindictive bitch over the insatiable flirt.”

  “Don’t pout, counselor,” I laughed, ignoring his penetrating stare. “I’ll show you later how I can be both.” Leaning farther across the bar, I pressed my lips to his for a tempting kiss. One meant to serve as a promise for things to come.

  But Brody had other ideas.

  Cradling my face, he turned tempting into torrid. There was no prelude. No gentle nip or taste. He demanded entrance, and I surrendered. Our tongues clashed with an urgency distance had denied us. It was warm, desperate, and hungry. With a final bite to my bottom lip, he pulled back with a satisfied smirk.

  I let out an unsteady breath. “You’re wound up today.”

  “You’re damn right,” he groaned, dropping his bag on the floor. “Between me being in New York, and you going back and forth to Chicago, we’ve hardly seen each other.”

  I barely held in my own groan. He wasn’t kidding. The last three months had been hell. We’d been two proverbial ships passing in the night. Brody established an alliance with the Italians for New York port access and had been busy solidifying distribution channels while I spent my time building a rapport with Cristiano’s grandfather in Chicago.

  I still held out hope I’d be able to mend that bridge between them. Cris said it was a lost cause, but I didn’t give up so easily.

  “Are you feeling neglected?” I grinned, running the pad of my thumb over the scruff on his chin.

  Brody grabbed my wrist and dragged it toward his mouth, his tongue tracing my pulse. “Don’t test me, princesa. I haven’t touched you in over a week. Don’t think I won’t throw you on that bar and give Frankie something to really stare at.”

  “I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’,” Frankie slurred behind me.

  I chuckled. Brody’s possessiveness was one of the things I loved most about him. I accused him once of smothering women, but it was just the opposite. He made me feel secure in a domineering yet endearing way.

  He threw me over his shoulder but always made sure I landed on my feet.

  I cupped his cheek. “This bar could be filled with men, and I wouldn’t see anyone but you. You’re all I need for the rest of my life.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  I let out a squeal as Brody grabbed me under the arms and lifted me up and over the bar. My feet barely hit the floor before he spun me around and guided me to a barstool near the end of the bar.

  “What the hell are you—” Before I could get the rest of my question out, two strong hands landed on my shoulders and pushed down until I gave up and sank onto the barstool.

  “Do you remember the last time you sat here?”

  “Tuesday?” I smirked.

  He sighed heavily, visible tension in his neck. “No, princesa, this chair.” He tapped his finger against the wood under my ass then slid onto the stool next to me.

  Something about this didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t know what it was until I scanned my eyes down the length of him. It was only then that I noticed what he was wearing, and my smile faltered.

  Black tailored Armani pants. A white button-up starched shirt rolled-up at the sleeves, and a blue tie hanging around his neck. I hadn’t noticed it when he first came in because it had been well over a year since he traded luxury and design for leather and denim.

  “Why do you have on a suit? You haven’t worn one in over a year.”

  “I know. Still not ringing a bell, huh? Maybe this will jog your memory.” I was still confused when he stood on the bottom rung of the stool and leaned over the bar. I watched dumfounded as he poured a beer and a shot of tequila. After placing the beer in front of himself and the shot glass in front of me, he tugged his tie off his neck and tossed it onto the bar.

  None of this made sense. He knew I didn’t drink, and as far as I knew, he’d quit.

  “Brody, I have no idea—”

  “Wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “Your line is, bad day, and then you’re supposed to push your tequila to the side and point out my tie.”

  He’d lost his mind. However, he had that look on his face. The one he got right before he blew someone’s head off. So, regardless of how much I questioned his sanity, I complied.

  “Bad day?” I asked. Pushing the tequila to the side, I held a perfect smile while nodding toward the discarded tie.

  Brody didn’t bother to look up, while still gripping the hell out of his mug. “Something like that.”

  We sat there for moments of uncomfortable silence as he waited for me to say something else. Something obviously, I was supposed to know by the clench of his jaw and grit of his teeth.

  After what seemed like forever, Brody pierced me with a fiery stare and placed his hand across my forearm. “Want to—”

  My eyes snapped toward the connection. It was such a simple move. An insignificant touch that said everything. It grabbed me by the throat and spun me back in time. Back to when I had nothing to lose.

  Before I’d ever
been kissed.

  And as if it were yesterday, I knew my next line perfectly. “Want to talk about it?”

  The fire that had lit his eyes before blazed even brighter. Turning away, he stared blankly across the bar before lifting the mug to his mouth. “Not particularly.”

  “Well, then can I buy you a drink?”

  “I own the bar, sweetheart.”

  “I get it,” I recited as I shifted toward him and leaned my elbow onto the bar. “I’m just a stranger. What do I know, right? But you’ve got a chip on your shoulder the size of Texas. You obviously need to unload. If not me, there’s got to be someone you can talk to.”

  And just like a year ago, Brody said nothing.

  “Girlfriend?”

  Still nothing.

  I opened my mouth to say the memorable line I hit him with next. The one I remembered set him off on a chain reaction of events that led us here, but he beat me to it.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “What?” I reared back, confused. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say.

  Before I could move from my chair, Brody took my hand, his throat bobbing on a hard swallow. “I’m hoping I have a wife.”

  I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like a team of horses trampled over it, and my heart raced with disbelief. Those words. I couldn’t process those words.

  “Brody—”

  I was caught off guard when one corner of his mouth twitched in a cocky smirk, and he reached forward and pinched my lips shut. “Baby, I know you love to argue, but shut up and let me get this out.”

  I nodded as best I could with his fingers holding my lips in a vice grip.

  He smiled, tilting his chin toward my lap. “This is where it started. When you walked into my bar and sat down on that stool, I hit rock bottom. I didn’t think my life could get any worse.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Hmmfwhhhaa.”

  Which loosely translated meant, watch it.

  Brody let out a low laugh and ran a hand up my cheek. “You came here to destroy me, Adriana, but you ended up saving me. We’re not perfect, and we’ll never be normal, but I don’t think I’d want it any other way. I know I don’t want you any other way. I love your stubborn attitude. I love that you always have to have the last word. I love that you can’t cook, and damn near set the bar on fire.” He grinned. “But mostly, I love you, princesa. I love the sentimental woman, the passionate lover, and the ruthless queen, and I want all three by my side forever.”

  It didn’t matter that he held my lips closed. I wouldn’t have been able to string two words together anyway. All I could do was stare at him as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a diamond ring.

  “So, what do you say, Adriana Carrera? Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”

  I nodded.

  Partly because he still had my lips clamped shut, but mainly because words failed me. Even the simple three letter one that answered his question. That was the thing about Brody and me—we didn’t need something as trivial as a word to solidify what we felt. We didn’t need ceremonies or vows or huge diamond rings.

  We’d proven our commitment to each other over and over.

  But I sure as hell wouldn’t turn any of those things down.

  Frankie, along with the few patrons in the bar, cheered as Brody whooped and scooped me off the chair, kissing me and spinning me around until we were both delirious and dizzy.

  “Did she say yes? We’re dying over here!”

  As the familiar voice filled the bar, my head shot up, and I glanced over Brody’s shoulder, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms twisted around his neck. “Is that Eden?”

  Brody just shrugged with an unapologetically guilty grin plastered across his face. I knew that look all too well, so I hoisted myself even more over his shoulder, my gaze landing on the brightly lit cell phone sitting next to his tie.

  I narrowed a gaze at my new fiancé. “Speaker phone, huh? You play a dangerous game, counselor. What if I’d said no?”

  He leaned in close, his mouth brushing against my ear. “Why do you think I pinched your lips shut?”

  I threw my head back and laughed, then turned my attention toward my intrusive family. “How long have you guys been listening?”

  “Long enough to hear things about my sister’s sex life I can’t unhear,” Val grumbled on the other end of the line.

  “Val, stop it!” Eden hissed, then as if flipping a switch, her voice rose about twelve octaves and she let out a squeal I was fairly certain only dogs could hear. “Congratulations you two! You have to have the wedding at the estate! Oh, a Christmas wedding would be beautiful! Leighton and I could plan it. You wouldn’t have to do a thing but show up, and—”

  The rest of her exuberant tirade ended in a series of muffled grunts.

  “Cereza,” Val chastised as the muffled sounds got louder. “While I’m sure they appreciate your adorable, yet disturbing enthusiasm, they just got engaged. Besides, you’re six months pregnant. You don’t need to be planning anything.”

  There was static and shuffling before another big squeal almost shattered my eardrums. “Congrats, big brother!” Leighton shouted.

  Brody grinned. “Thanks, Lil’ Bit.” With a peck on my cheek, he set me on top of the bar and retrieved his phone. “Okay, I think that’s enough family togetherness for today. We’ll call everyone later once we’ve celebrated privately.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Val’s growl of disapproval. We’d come a long way from trying to kill each other to being insanely protective of each other. I suppose blood really was thicker than water.

  Once we stopped trying to spill it, of course.

  Everyone said their goodbyes, and Brody ended the call with promises of video and a visit to the estate. I mixed a few more drinks, and after pacing the floor for fifteen minutes, he gave up and closed the bar early.

  As soon as Frankie left, Brody locked the door behind him and swept me into his arms. “I get to kiss the bride now.”

  I laughed and ran my hands through his thick hair. “That’s only when we get married.”

  “When have we ever followed tradition?” His lips twitched in a half smile seconds before his mouth claimed mine in a slow and seductive kiss. Brody’s fingers tightened in my hair, and he pulled me closer. He tasted and took, and I happily gave.

  I told him once that my kisses were all his, and I meant it.

  His mouth left mine and marked a heated trail across my jaw and down my neck. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of his lips on my skin, and the feel of his ring on my finger.

  “You know, I never thanked you.”

  Brody pulled back and eyed me closely as he brushed a piece of hair away from my face. “For what?”

  “For exposing who I really was. I hated you for it at the time, but if you hadn’t, I would’ve died. I was convinced you wanted to take my life, and you ended up saving it.”

  He backed me against the bar, and the space between us disappeared. “I think we saved each other.”

  We did. In every sense of the word. We risked our lives for each other, but it was so much more than a sacrifice of pain or a gift of life. Each of us was headed down our own dark path when they unexpectedly crossed. It would’ve been so easy to keep running deeper into the shadows until those paths consumed us, but circumstance, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it, stepped in.

  We still walked in the dark, but we didn’t walk alone. This life we led wasn’t bathed in sunlight. Neither of us was all evil, and neither of us was all good. Extremes of either were what brought down empires.

  And what we’d built was indestructible.

  As if reading my mind, Brody brought my left hand to his lips and kissed the diamond now residing on my third finger. “So, what do you think, princesa? Ready to be a queen again?”

  It was funny. Reclaiming my crown was why I came to Houston, but it turned out that the one thing I wanted ended up being the last thing I needed
.

  “Only yours, counselor. Only yours.”

  Did you enjoy Brody and Adriana’s story? If so, email me at corakenbornbooks@gmail.com.

  I’d love to hear from you.

  The Carrera Cartel Trilogy

  Check out the Carrera Cartel from beginning to end!

  Carrera Cartel Trilogy

  Blurred Red Lines (Eden & Val’s story)

  Faded Gray Lines (Mateo & Leighton’s story)

  Drawn Blue Lines (Brody & Adriana’s story)

  Can’t get enough mafia bad boys?

  Check out Russian assassin Niko and Bratva princess Ava in the steamy standalone dark romance,

  Darkest Deeds

  Acknowledgments

  This book was a literal labor of love, and there were so many people whose love and support made it possible. I could never name them all, but I’ll give it my best shot.

  To my family, thank you for putting up with the six weeks of pajamas, messy buns, grunts, grumbles, growls, a bunch of other “g” words, and nightly Papa John’s deliveries. I love you all.

  Crystal, I don’t know how we did it, but we did it. 2019 ended up one for the books—literally.

  To my tribe. You know who you are. Thank you for always having my back. I’ll always be in your corners.

  Thank you to the special people in the book community who kept me sane during #ransomwaregate and refused to let me quit when I lost half of this manuscript and had to start all over. Crystal, Kailee, Hazel, Jane, Amy, and Eve.

  I have the best beta readers in the world who put up with my perpetual lateness and constant revisions and love me anyway. Thank you so much, Crystal, Tami, Sheri, Amy, KC, Sarah, Tiffany, and Angie.

  I bow to the greatness and intestinal fortitude of my editor, Mitzi Pummer Carroll for not killing me over my constant date changes and the 11th hour manuscript arrival.

  Much gratitude to Ginger Snaps and Veronica Armijo for their assistance in translation and dialect for this book.