I had no clue what spewed out of my mouth. Fear for Val and rage toward their accusations, afflicted me with a sudden case of panic-laden Tourette’s.
“Look, let’s just all calm down, all right?” Mateo sighed, running his hand under the faucet. “My men will call back with an update, and then we can decide what to do.”
I shot him a look. “What to do? Don’t you mean, ‘what to do with the pain in the ass, rabid bitch’?”
I had a million and one questions, and even more smartass remarks to back them up, but an impending breakdown shut me up. My nerves had fried to a crisp, and I’d worn a hole in the carpet with over four hours of pacing. Honestly, I had no clue why either of them didn’t just cuff me back to the bed and be done with it.
I would’ve.
I’d just shoved my fingers back in my mouth—going for round seventeen on what was left of my nails—when I heard the lock turn. If a sound existed of breath lodging in one’s own throat, it exploded in my ears.
No one moved, as all eyes focused on the doorknob. My heart pounded so hard I could see the thin fabric of Val’s black button-up shirt vibrate against my chest.
I had a fingernail sandwiched in between my teeth as the door opened.
The minute he stepped through it, all the air in the room seemed to suck out with the momentum of his steps, choking the breath out of me. He paused in the entryway, our eyes connecting with a ferocity that almost knocked me off my feet.
He was dirty—filthy, actually—covered in soot and ash. His pants leg flapped open, torn up the side with a jagged rip. Blood poured down his tanned leg as well as both exposed arms. His t-shirt had burn marks, stained with the same scarlet patches as his limbs. The always-perfectly-styled midnight black hair fell shaggily over his ears and forehead. Cuts and gashes marred his perfect face, his bottom lip sliced at the corner, and a trickle of dried blood trailed from his right ear.
He was fucked up, but he was alive.
And we all stared at him as if a ghost walked straight through the front door.
Chapter Nineteen
Eden
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. In the distance, I vaguely recognized Mateo calling his name, demanding to know what had happened and that he see doctor. However, the noise faded into the background as his lips parted, and a labored breath fell from his chest.
The relief I felt scared me.
I’d always shook my head at the concept of Stockholm Syndrome. Who the hell could fall for someone who’d kidnapped and kept them prisoner from their friends and family? Those women were weak and stupid.
I rationalized that this wasn’t Stockholm. Val had uncuffed me and walked out. I could’ve escaped. Why didn’t I?
Weak and stupid…party-of-one, your table is now available.
Obsession was a nasty little word.
I’d been obsessed with being who Davis always expected me to be, no matter how much it went against everything I believed. I swore after our divorce, I’d never allow myself to fall that deep under someone’s control again.
“Val…” Before I knew it, I’d cleared the room. Flinging myself into his arms, I wound my hands around his neck, desperate to reassure myself he was real, and that I wasn’t imagining him out of desperation.
As I clung to him, he stiffened, his eyes trained across the room. Eventually, he dusted a hand across my lower back, giving it a light pat.
A pat? He freaking patted me like an obedient puppy?
Slowly releasing him, I swallowed hard, my face flaming with embarrassment. Risking a glance up at his face, something shattered inside as I took in his tightened jaw, cold eyes, and emotionless expression.
How could I have been so wrong?
Backing up as if he were fire, and I’d just blistered a finger, I suddenly wished for my own clothes and a blanket. The inherent chill in the room froze the life out of me, and I folded my arms across my chest in self-preservation mode. I had no clue what I hoped to accomplish with it now. I’d already tipped my hand.
“You look like shit.”
There we go. Change the tide with flattery.
“Long day.” With a quick nod of acknowledgement, he moved stiffly toward the kitchen table. “What do we know?”
A flicker of emotion passed across Mateo’s face before official business wiped it clean. “Waiting for a report now, but it looks like a bomb. How about you tell us?”
“Hell, if I know,” he said, palming the back of his neck and wincing. “One minute I was threatening to blow Enrique’s dick off, the next I was eating asphalt. I blacked out and woke up three hundred feet away from my car…or what the hell was left of it, anyway. Two steps to the left and I’d probably fit in a Ziploc sandwich bag right now.” His laugh came off dry as he eased himself onto the chair next to Emilio. “One of your men gave me a ride. I think it’s a given where this is coming from. It’s the second shipment in days to not make it to a stash house.”
Emilio sat up, his hand still pressed to his side. “You’re shitting me? Another Colombian drop is gone?”
Val nodded, his eyes glazed and tired. “I don’t know how those assholes are getting inside information. They seem to know exactly when and where the drops are going to be made, and not only that, how the hell did they know I’d be in Corpus Christi tonight? For that matter, how’d they find the other safe house?” He glanced at Mateo. “Did you search for a leak?”
“Everyone checks out, boss. Every lieutenant went to extremes too.” Mateo shot me a look before lowering his voice. “They went old country persuasion, if you get what I’m saying.”
I got exactly what he was saying. You didn’t live in Houston your whole life without knowing a little drug cartel folklore. They were as much of an urban legend as Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Except, these legends didn’t just come down your chimney and take your teeth. They also took your family and life, splattering both across all four walls of your bedroom.
Old country persuasion meant the soldiers under each lieutenant most likely had a family member on their knees with a gun to the back of the head as incentive.
Nothing prompted action quicker than watching your flesh and blood die.
I knew that first hand.
“What about outsider infiltration, boss?” Emilio mumbled with a sharp side-eye in my direction.
I held my breath. I could hold my own with Dumb and Dumber; however, as confusing as my feelings were for him, Val Carrera was a volatile man. By the way he shoved me aside like an outgrown pair of shoes moments before, that much was clear. If his lieutenants convinced him I’d somehow betrayed him, the consequences could be deadly.
Val caught my eye and held it far too long for my liking. “Impossible. I screen all outsiders personally. No one has access to that information.” He shook his head, effectively dismissing their suggestion. “From now on, no phone conversations about anything, am I understood?”
“Yes, boss.” Both men agreed.
“We communicate in person or not at all. No one gets shipment details but the three of us, or any details of my location. The next attack won’t be a close call. It’ll be an exact hit from either a Muñoz or a Colombian bullet.” A strange look crossed Val’s face as he directed a stare at Mateo. “If they succeed, by two witness rule, you’re to take control of this cartel.”
Mateo’s eyes widened with dark undertones. “Boss, that’s not going to happen—”
“Yes, or no, Mateo? Do you accept, or do I need to find someone who can make a decision?”
Evidently, rank presided over friendship in cartel warfare.
“Aceptó.”
“Bien.” Seemingly overpowered by sudden fatigue, Val rose from his chair and nodded to the two men. “That’ll be all.”
“But, boss,” Emilio protested, gesturing to his bloody limbs. “You need to see the doc.”
The doc? Who the hell was the doc? Did they have their own?
Must be the shithead vet with the endless supply of
M99.
“Yes, Emilio, I realize that,” he commented, glancing at his tattered clothing. “But not today. It’s got to be close to four o’clock in the goddamn morning, and I’m exhausted. It’s nothing that can’t be tended to in a few hours.”
“Boss…”
“Now!”
With a dip of their chins, both men rose from the table, and keeping their heads down, exited through the front door without another word.
Interesting.
I would’ve fought harder for him to see the doc.
Of course, after the cold shoulder and brush-off I got at the door, I was hardly in any position to push for a ‘how do you do,’ much less demand medical attention for a drug lord.
“Well, glad to see you’re alive and in one piece.” Antsy and awkward, I rubbed my damp palms down my legs. Risking a glance up, I caught Val eyeing my bare thigh.
In a bold move, I’d showered in his bathroom. Stealing his razor, I’d attempted to get rid of the small forest that had grown on my legs during my imprisonment. Rummaging through his bag, I chose a pair of black boxers, rolled down until they hung low on my hips, and a black button-down shirt that smelled of his cologne.
As pissed as I was right now, I’d kill for a parka and a poncho.
“Are you?”
“What kind of question is that? You think I want you dead?”
“Not many people would blame you.” Pinning me with a deadly stare, he grunted as he reached behind him and grasped his t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift jerk.
“What are you doing?” The man was a master manipulator and knew how to push my buttons. Figuring out whether we were having a civil conversation or if he was trying to bait me proved impossible.
He paused, his bloody shirt balled in his hands. “I’m getting dressed for dinner at the White House, Cereza. What the hell does it look like I’m doing? I need to shower. Almost being blown up will do that to you.”
I forced my stare away from his defined abs and narrow hips. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Blowing a rough breath out, I took two steps toward the room I’d been sleeping in, when a strong hand wrapped around my upper arm.
“Eden, wait. You know I couldn’t let my men see that side of us.”
Pride overrode the electricity from his touch. “What? No friendly pat-down this time? Maybe you’d prefer a fist-bump, instead?” Smirking, I held out my fist in front of his bare chest, poised and ready. When he just stared at me, I pursed my lips, and raised it higher. “You just going to leave me hanging, bro?”
Lowering his eyes to glare at my clenched fingers, he mumbled a few low curses in Spanish before engulfing my much smaller fist with his own and jerking me into his broad chest. In a similar motion as when he opened the door, his arm snaked around my lower back, but this time, instead of a light pat, his large palm spread across my ass, gripping it tightly before lifting upward and hauling me flush against him.
“You know what I’d prefer, Cereza?” he growled, his voice laced with a tinge of threat.
“A shower?” Our lips, a whisper apart, grazed with each word we spoke.
Fire burned in his eyes. “For starters.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to go fucking take one when he pinned our entwined fists to the side of my head and plunged his tongue past my lips. Startled, his incessant demands overpowered me as our mouths fought for dominance.
Gasping for air from his onslaught, my free arm wound itself in his disheveled hair, tugging at the out-of-place strands as I pressed my body closer against him. Simultaneous groans poured into each other as the hand clutching my ass gave an insistent shove inward, my stomach pressing hard against an impatient erection begging to be released.
Pants became moans as Val slid his lips across my jaw and down my throat. I arched my back, physically unable to get any closer, but trying regardless.
What the hell was happening to me? Five minutes ago, he treated me like the lights flickered after last call, and he’d seen exactly what he had been about to take home and changed his mind. Now, he kissed me like he wanted to crawl inside me and hibernate for the winter.
Releasing my fist, his hand trailed by my lips then grazed the buttons at the top of my shirt, popping them one by one.
“I thought…” Swallowing hard, I groaned as he sucked the top of my breast into the heat of his mouth. “I thought…ah, fuck, I don’t remember what I thought.” Leaning my head back, I gripped his hair hard, unable to contain the lusty whimper when his tongue trailed across the length of my chest.
“Eden…” His hands skimmed up my ribcage with fierce intent. I’d barely taken a breath when he fisted each side of my shirt below the collar and jerked outward, buttons flying in opposite directions as he raked his eyes down my bare chest.
Okay, so I didn’t wear a bra. Maybe I had plans.
His eyes darkened right before lowering his mouth and latching it around a nipple. Chanting his name over and over, I all but threw myself in a full backbend, giving him access to whatever he wanted and more. Without warning, his hands slid under my ass again, lifting me around his waist until I wrapped my legs around his back and then claimed my mouth once more.
Without breaking the frantic kiss, he carried me back to the shower I’d left just hours earlier. Reaching inside with one arm, he turned on the water and set me on the counter. Within seconds, he had what was left of his shredded pants and my borrowed boxers on the floor. The moment I laid eyes on him, standing proud and naked in front of me, my heart sped up and blood swooshed a pounding pace through my ears.
He was beautiful—all man, all hard, artfully decorated from head to toe in inked symbols and designs. Strong, muscular thighs and a toned hardened chest met in the middle at washboard abs that lead directly to the most impressive cock I’d ever seen.
And I’d seen a lot of cock.
The first time Val and I were together, it was angry. Somehow, we were punishing each other—a combination of resentment about our mutual situations and resentment over the fact that we even wanted each other in the first place. The whole thing had been so frantic and rushed, I never took notice of anything other than the fact that it felt like nothing I’d ever experienced.
Plus, he’d had me cuffed, and I couldn’t touch him. So, that was the first thing I did.
He watched me through half-lidded eyes as I took him in my hands, stroking from the base to tip with slow, purposeful movements. “What the hell are you doing to me, Eden?” he rasped, twining both hands in my hair.
“Meaning?” I asked, still pumping him.
“I’m a goddamn Carrera, and you’re…ah, Christ…” He bit his lip and pulled the strands still wound around his fingers. “You’re bringing me to my knees.”
Val’s eyelids closed, and a surge of power rushed through me, inciting an insatiable desire to literally bring him to his knees—by dropping to mine.
Sliding off the counter, I hit the bathroom tile, and his eyes popped open in shock. “Not yet,” I warned. “But give me a few minutes and I’ll do my best.”
Focusing on my end game, I braced a hand on each ass cheek and took him in deep. His hand held forcefully to my hair as he threw his head back and groaned.
“Don’t stop…Jesus…”
I’d never been one to enjoy a blow job, per se. It just wasn’t my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a bitch in bed. I wasn’t about to say ‘thanks for the lick and tickle,’ and not return the favor. That was just rude.
But the power trip I had over this man fucked with my head.
Val’s hands wound so tight around my hair, my eyes watered. His breath hitched, and with a growl, he rambled incoherent Spanish, finally breaking into broken English as he shook.
“Dios mío…fuck, yes!”
If I didn’t have a handful of ass, I’d fist pump the air.
“Quiero hacerte el amor lentamente, Cereza.” Pulling me up by my shoulders, he wrapped one arm under my ass and cradled the other aro
und my head, lifting me into the steamy shower.
For half an hour, we soaped, washed, caressed, kissed, and touched each other. The one thing we didn’t do was speak. In any other situation, I may’ve felt awkward and used by the silence. But as he stared hard into my eyes, allowing me to wash his injuries, clean them, and inspect his bruises, I knew words weren’t needed. Something shifted in that shower as we built a level of trust and crossed an invisible line.
Tracing the cuts marring his skin, I trailed my fingers across his back, once again taking note of the massive canvas that told a very personal story I wasn’t privy to. I knew if he wanted me to know, he’d tell me himself, but curiosity tore at me. Deciding not to ruin the peaceful moment between us, I continued my inspection and nestled in front of him, his body ready for me.
Wrapping my legs around Val’s waist, my mouth rounded for a silent scream as he plunged inside, thrusting as he cradled my face. The water from overhead poured into it, spilling from the corners the moment we both tumbled over the edge.
With a soundless union, I realized that life as I knew it was over.
* * *
As the sun broke over the horizon, I listened to Val’s steady heartbeat, my ear pressed firmly against his heart. We lay in the full-sized bed he’d been sleeping in since we arrived at the new safe house, our limbs tangled around each other, my cheek draped across another intricate tattoo scrawled across the width of his chest. It depicted skulls and knives and words in Spanish I didn’t understand. It was gruesome and fascinating.
“How did you make it out of there?”
His arm tightened around me. “What do you mean?”
My eyes followed my fingertip as it traced a line down his stomach toward his navel. “Mateo said it was a bomb, Val. Nothing withstood the blast, but you. How in the hell did you walk away from that?”
I’d been afraid to ask the question up until now. Seeing him standing at the door in one piece had been enough at the time to quell any need for explanation, but lying next to him, the reality of what could have happened crushed me under its weight.
Carrera Cartel: The Collection Page 15