But as much as I wanted her, as much as my body craved her, and her presence calmed the chaos, I knew the only safe place for her would be far away from me. The Muñoz cartel would take what they knew would hurt me the most. They wouldn’t take pleasure in torturing me with physical pain. We’d all grown up with the same code and creed—endure until death, but divulge nothing.
No, they’d never inflict direct pain on me. They’d do it through her. The longer I kept her, the higher the price on her head became.
Ensuring Mateo’s attention remained on his phone and his incessant pacing, and Emilio remained outside talking with lower ranking men, I stole the moment to ruin the only good thing that’d ever been mine.
Taking a seat beside her, I clasped my hands in front of me to stop myself from touching her. “Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right?”
Attempting to lighten the heaviness in the air, I picked up a lock of her shocking flame-colored hair and rolled it between my fingers. Nodding to her white shorts and blue top, I somewhat managed a smirk. “You look like an extremely fuckable flag.”
She rolled her eyes, dropping her head back against the cushion. “God, you’re crude.”
“What do you want me to say, Eden? I’m doing the best I can here.”
“I want you to say we’re going to be okay,” she answered, rolling her chin toward me.
“I can’t.”
She remained quiet for a moment, and I didn’t know whether to break the silence or let it ride as long as I could before I made her hate me. The decision was made for me when she abruptly sat up, rubbing her palms roughly down the length of her thighs.
“These are the men that killed my brother?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then let’s stop fucking around,” she said balling her fists, her body taut. “Let’s take the fight to them instead.”
While on some sadistic level, the monster in me would love to see those Muñoz shits on the receiving end of Eden Lachey’s barbed tongue, the suggestion made me laugh out loud. When she turned her icy stare my way, I choked on my own amusement. “You’re fucking serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking? Why do you keep asking me stupid questions?”
“Because you keep saying stupid shit.” I raked my hand through my hair. “No way, Cereza. You have no idea who these men are or what they’re capable of.”
Calm, almost too calm for my liking, she crossed her legs and sat back into the arm of the sofa, her elbows supporting her. “Oh, I think I know exactly what they’re capable of, Danger. I watched it with my own eyes while hiding in a pantry. I saw them put a gun to the back of my brother’s head and pull the trigger. I had to watch it all, because if I moved—if I screamed—if I said one goddamn word out of place, I’d be next.”
Without a word, she wrapped an arm around my waist, resting her small hand above my lower back. My gut twisted at the images she created in my head. I hadn’t stopped to think of what she’d been through. My entire life had been lived in a pantry. By the time I was sixteen, I had no idea how to ride a bicycle, but I could blow a man’s head off from twenty yards away.
Our worlds were opposites, and I’d thought taking her had saved her life.
Seeing her hardened scowl and the determined bloodthirst in her eyes, I realized I’d ruined it.
* * *
An hour later, the front door slammed open as Emilio pulled his gun, engaging all four deadbolt locks and punching in the security code. Lifting my head from its propped position at my bar, I followed his movement with mild irritation.
“Reyes, what the hell? This is my house, not a bomb shelter.”
Checking the windows, Emilio’s face held no amusement as he swung his gun from where I sat to the middle of the living room. “Move. Now!”
My blood ran cold. “Emilio,” I asked, drawing out every syllable to buy time. “What are you doing, man? Put the gun down.” Shifting a glance toward Eden, her eyes widened and I barely shook my head, indicating for her to stay still. I had no idea what would go down in the next few seconds and I didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.
Moving quickly, Emilio turned his back to me, pointing his gun steadily at Eden. “I’ve asked you before, but now I want a fucking answer. Who are you?”
“Put the gun down, Emilio.”
“Can’t do that, boss,” he replied, his elbow straight and finger locked on the trigger. “Just got off the phone with one of my men. The gas station where we stopped to fill up the SUV just went up in flames. Convenient, don’t you think?”
No, it couldn’t be possible.
The muscles in Eden’s neck tightened as she stared down the barrel of Emilio’s gun. “And you think I jumped out while you pumped gas, dropped a few cell phone bombs out of my bra while in the ladies’ room, and climbed back inside just for the hell of it?”
“How should I know what you crazy bitches do? From where I’m standing, all I see is the fact that every place you’ve been has blown the fuck up. Now, just how do you think that happened, huh? We,”—he waved the gun around the room, implicating the rest of us,”—are all Carrera men, sworn to protect and die for this man.” I raised my eyebrows as he waved the gun in my direction. “You’re an outsider who’s caused everything to go to shit since I put you in my damn car!”
“Enough!” I yelled, moving to reach for my own gun. I’d let this play out long enough. Emilio served as a high-ranking lieutenant, so I’d indulged his rant and let him blow off steam. But the way he spoke to Eden pissed me off.
Eden, however, had passed pissed off and turned explosive. Before I could reach for my piece, she shot to her feet, boldly shoving him in the center of his chest with locked arms. “Don’t you dare put this on me, Emilio Reyes! Don’t forget that I watched you torment my brother right before you mutilated him. You may not have pulled the trigger, but don’t think I won’t put a goddamn bullet in your head for what you did!”
I’d never seen Eden so callous and brutal. All the blood rushed south of my waistline, constricting my pants as I watched her transform before my eyes.
Fuck, I wanted her.
Emilio laughed, his eyes taking in her small frame and dismissing it. “You don’t have what it takes, little girl.”
Before anyone could move, Eden reached behind her and pulled something metal from the back of her shorts. Splitting her stance, she raised both arms and pulled the slide on the top of the gun back, advancing the first shell into the chamber. “You sure about that? Why don’t we find out?”
The minute I saw the gun in her hands, I recognized it.
All but falling off the barstool, I raked both hands across the waistband of my pants, shoving my fingers under my shirt, searching for the weapon I knew wouldn’t be there. With one glance into her vacant eyes, I knew the small show of affection on the couch was a means to an end.
Karma certainly was a bitch.
“Cereza,” I called out in a calm voice as I moved slowly toward her. “Give me my gun.”
“This doesn’t concern you, Val.”
Two more steps, and I stood beside Emilio, yet her eyes never moved off her target. “I think it does when you threaten to shoot one of my men with my own gun.”
“He cut my brother’s fingers off while he screamed. I should blow his dick off in trade.” Lowering the gun, she aimed it at Emilio’s crotch.
Emilio backed up. “Boss, this bitch is crazy.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. This was the life of a criminal. Point a gun in our face and we barely flinch. Aim it at our nuts and we tap dance like a motherfucker.
“Okay, Eden, you’ve made your point. Give me the gun.” I held my hand out again.
“Go to hell, Danger.”
The last thing I wanted to do was play on her already volatile emotions, but desperate times called for even more desperate measures. I wasn’t worried about Eden hurting my men. They’d seen enough gunfire and could protect themselves. However, th
e woman holding my gun didn’t know the life I lived or the men who stood by my side. In her world, it’d be reprehensible for a man to attack a woman for being angry. In mine, the only recourse for the stunt she just pulled would’ve been a bullet to the head.
The only reason she still stood was because Emilio inherently knew if he harmed her, the next bullet would land between his own eyes. However, he’d also taken a sworn oath to protect me with his life. If she turned the gun on me, even innocently, honor would force him to act.
So, I did what I had to do.
“Cereza,” I whispered, stepping in between them. “It’s not worth it. Let me deal with him.”
“What the fuck, boss?”
Ignoring him, I continued, staring into her flickering eyes. “Don’t soil your hands for me.”
Her hand shook. “I can’t…Val, I can’t just…do…nothing…” The trembling climbed up her arm, taking hold of her body.
Closing the rest of the distance, I held her cheek in the palm of my hand. “I’ll do it. Stay who you are. Don’t become me, Eden. This isn’t you.” Turning her face into my hand, her finger slackened on the trigger. Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed her wrist, holding it toward the ceiling as the gun went off, blasting a round of sheet rock around our heads.
“Liar!” she screamed, twisting out of my hold.
Reclaiming a fierce hold on her, I shoved her to the carpet, both of us wrestling for the gun. Prying her fingers open, I pulled it from her hold and threw it across the room where Emilio picked it up and tucked it away. She kicked like a wild animal let out of its cage as I lay on top of her, holding her arms above her head.
“Get off me! I hate you! God, I hate you!”
“Well, you lasted longer than most of them.” The words were meant to hurt her enough to make her forget this fantasy we’d created between us.
Halting her struggle, she stared horrified into my eyes and whispered, “I hate you.”
We lay there shooting daggers into each other’s eyes as Mateo rounded the corner, emerging from my office, his face pale and dampened with beads of sweat.
“Mateo?”
“Boss, I need you to come with me.”
The monotony in his voice unnerved me. “What is it? Tell me.”
Glancing from me to Eden, then to Emilio standing off to the corner, Mateo ran the pads of his fingers across his mouth and nodded. “Sir, it’s your father.”
A buzzing filled my head with warning. “What about him?”
“Alejandro is dead, sir.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Eden
Together the words made sense, but with one glance in Val’s face, I knew he hadn’t begun to comprehend them.
“What do you mean he’s dead?”
“Gerardo found him this morning, sir.” Mateo shook his head, the perspiration on his lips beading faster. “In his office. They cut his throat.”
I knew the name. Alejandro Carrera was infamous. Countless documentaries and true crime shows had been made about him and his ruthless reign of terror across the border. He was a monster and a coldhearted killer.
He also fathered the man I’d been sleeping with for the past eleven days.
Releasing his hold on me, Val staggered backward against the base of the sofa, looking as if someone slapped him across the face. “Do they know…I mean…who…”
“Sir, you know the answer to that question.”
No one spoke. The mood in the room teetered in between shock and lethal reaction. Not daring to move, I watched Val for a reaction—any reaction.
Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded once. “Well, then. That’ll be all, Mateo.”
“Sir—”
“I said, that’ll be all!” Spitting fire at his second in command, we all watched dumbfounded as Val climbed to his feet and turned down the hallway. “I’ll be in my office. No one disturbs me unless we’re under attack. That’s a direct order.”
Tracking his every movement, I followed him until he disappeared into a room off to the left and slammed the door. Biting my top lip in frustration, I made a move to follow him when Mateo stopped me.
“Let him go, Eden. He needs to do this his own way.”
Dejected, I sat down amidst his pitying stare and Emilio’s scowl, realizing the same truth that took form in the back of my head when we were in the SUV.
I couldn’t claim something that didn’t want me.
* * *
By midnight, I’d had enough.
Mateo and Emilio took turns keeping watch while the other slept. Apparently neither had gotten much of the latter in the last few days, the evidence rimming their dark eyes.
But sleep had no place on my agenda. Val had been locked in his office for over six hours. One of the lower-ranking men had brought sandwiches and drinks to the house, and no one bothered to knock on his door to offer any.
When Val said to leave him alone, apparently his word served as gospel.
I’d given it as long as I could. I’d watched television, paced the floor, picked at a turkey sub while my stomach did flips. In the end, I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
While Mateo watched the front door and Emilio snored on the couch, I grabbed a ham sandwich and bag of chips. Pressing my back against the wall, I moved quietly down the hallway toward Val’s office. Out of habit, I first tried the doorknob, not surprised when it didn’t budge.
Raising my knuckles, I gave a soft knock. “Val? It’s me.” Before he had a chance to reject me, I added, “I know you’re in there and you haven’t eaten all day. Fine, don’t talk, but at least take some food.”
After a few moments, a slight commotion ensued from within, and I took a step back as the door cracked. Val’s tired, frowning face emerged, his eyes cast down toward the plate in my hand. “I hate ham.” He moved to close the door. Reacting on pure adrenaline, I shoved my foot in between the door and the frame, catching it mid-slam.
“Oooof.” Wincing as pain shot up my shin, I shoved the plate into his chest. “Okay, then eat the damn bread.”
“Eden, I’m not in the mood to talk. Go away.”
I’d been so focused on getting him to open the door, I didn’t think beyond it. Flustered, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Emilio pulled a gun on me.”
Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He had.
When Val had been standing there.
Val’s eyes flared, and he swung the door open wide with a growl. “I’ll kill him.”
With catlike precision, I slipped under his arm and into the middle of his office. Turning to face him, I offered an apologetic smile. “Don’t bother. I handled it hours ago.”
“Eden, I don’t have time for this.” Swearing under his breath, he stomped back to his desk, flopping back into his oversized mahogany chair as it creaked with his weight. His desk stood littered with papers and a bottle of half-empty tequila.
“Val, you can’t just keep all this inside and not deal with it. Your father was murdered, for Christ’s sake!”
“Shit happens.”
“Shit happens? Excuse me, did you just say ‘shit happens?’” I tried to control my reaction, to no avail. “This is your father.”
“He was an evil son of a bitch.”
“He was your dad, Val.”
Curling his lip into a sneer, he cocked his chin toward me. “He was my father. The man was no dad. No dad would’ve brought a young boy into this life.”
“But, still—”
Swiping a stack of papers off his desk and onto the floor with a flick of his wrist, his eyes flashed with anger. “Still, nothing, Eden. You want me to say it? Fine, let’s just put on the table how much of my father’s blood runs through my veins.” Propping his feet up on the edge of his desk, he spread his arms wide. “I’m glad the bastard is dead. Okay? There, I said it. He terrorized my mother, he destroyed my family, and he…” Trailing off, he shifted a glance away.
“He what?”
“He ordered your
execution.”
I swallowed the boulder in my throat. “By who?”
A sadistic grin crept along the seams of his mouth. “Me.”
I staggered backward at his confession. As twisted as mine and Val’s relationship was, something inside refused to let me believe he’d hurt me.
“Val…”
“Would I have done it?” His eyebrows shifted upward. “That’s what you want to ask, isn’t it?”
I nodded, my fingernails digging into my palms.
“I’d like to tell you no, Cereza, but I’ve got Carrera blood inside me. I don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“I don’t believe that.”
We stared at each other, our two opposing forces colliding with a ferocity neither of us could understand or rationalize. On paper and in conversation, Valentin Carrera and I made no sense. We were a Hollywood script, destined for an Oscar night win. In real life, we were two people, incapable of walking away, regardless of the mutual destruction we caused.
Val’s low laugh caught me off guard. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Somehow, the damn Muñoz bastards know where we are every minute of every day. We go somewhere,”—he threw his arms up—“boom, shit goes up in flames.”
Risking rejection, I sat on the edge of his desk. “Could you have a traitor in your organization?”
“No. Mateo’s cleared everyone.”
I crossed my feet at the ankles, hunching my shoulders in a protective move. “What about Mateo?”
He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t go there. Mateo is a good man, and I’ll not have you wrecking his name within my ranks.”
“You never know, Val. People aren’t always what they seem.”
“I never get it wrong.”
My fingers curled under the edge of the wooden desk. “You got it wrong with my brother.” Seconds ticked by before either of us spoke again. “Okay.” I changed tactics by sliding off the desk. “Let’s break down what we know.” Walking around the edge, I moved his feet off the corner and leaned in, my palms flat on the surface.
Carrera Cartel: The Collection Page 17