Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  “We?” One of the newer lieutenants asked.

  “Yes, ‘we,’” I snapped. “As in me, two of my top lieutenants, and a prisoner. Shut up for a minute, and I’ll tell you about her and why I think my father was so interested in her.” Preparing myself for the bomb I was about to drop, I shot Mateo a side glance and curled my finger around the trigger of my gun under the table. “Then, I can tell you to fuck off if she interests you in any way.”

  “The fuck?”

  “You heard me, Guzman.”

  A low rumble of voices milled around the room, and I waited for it to die down before I commanded their attention. “I’m speaking!” All eyes turned my way as silence replaced the incessant chatter. “Somehow Manuel Muñoz infiltrated a drug debt in Houston, causing my men to torture an innocent man. Afterward, Muñoz sicarios executed him.”

  “So? Innocent death happens.” The new lieutenant snorted with annoyance. “What do we care?”

  My trigger finger itched to shove it under his chin. “We care, because shit is different in America, you fucking idiot. Mistakes like that could bring down our whole operation.” His jaw tightened in anger, but stopped talking. “As I was saying, the innocent man’s sister witnessed the hit.”

  The thought of Eden, hiding in the back of that kitchen as her brother died, filled me with indescribable anger, and I felt my entire body clench as the muscles in my neck twitched. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mateo rake his eyes down my stiffened form and take over.

  “This girl, she’s a close friend and employee of one of our highest-ranking lieutenants in Houston. By our own code, we had to act fast, so we took her before Muñoz guns could. Unfortunately, by a betrayal unknown to her, she’d been tracked by a GPS. In turn, Valentin’s whereabouts were known at all times.”

  “And this puta is still alive, after all that?”

  “Do not call her a puta!” I’d had enough. My nerves were shot, and the one thing I wouldn’t tolerate was anyone disrespecting Eden. Pulling my gun, I grabbed Guzman by the front of his shirt and shoved the tip against his cheek. “You will never call her a puta again. Her name is Eden. However, you will refer to her as Miss Lachey, ma’am, or señorita, are we clear?”

  “Jesus, fine.” He raised his palms as my chest heaved. Releasing him, he sank back down into his seat. Glaring, he picked up the shot of tequila sitting in front of him and held it against his mouth. “Fuck, man, you’d think you had a hard-on for this chick or something.”

  Loosening two buttons at the top of my shirt, I drank my own shot glass sitting in front of me.

  I needed to stay in control. I couldn’t risk showing my hand too early to my men. My father ruled this cartel with an iron fist, and despite the fact he was a heartless bastard, every one of these lieutenants respected the hell out of him and followed him blindly. I needed the same level of loyalty from them to change the future of the Carrera name.

  Letting them know I planned to bring an American into our world wouldn’t win me any favors right now.

  “I know you all want revenge for the attack on my father.” A chorus of ‘fuck yeahs’ drowned out my speech, and I paused to let them have their moment before continuing. “And, trust me, you all will have your opportunity. If anyone has reason for a vendetta, it’s me. The Muñoz cartel has murdered my entire family. No one wants their heads more than me, but when we ruin them, I want all of them. I want their territory and all their producers and suppliers. I want it all.” Another round of ‘fuck yeahs’ and cheers echoed off the walls. “To do that, we have to be smart and bide our time. You all must trust me and my judgment to plan the end of the Muñoz cartel. The one question left is…are you with me, or against me?”

  After a moment or two of silence, Mateo stood up, his gun in his right hand, crossed over his chest, and placed over his heart. “Allegiance until death. Carrera pledge to new boss, Valentin Carrera.”

  Another man stood next. “Allegiance until death to Valentin Carrera.”

  Four more men stood. “Allegiance until death to Valentin Carrera.”

  One by one, every lieutenant stood and repeated the same words, until every eye landed on the only man still seated.

  Finally, his eyes pulled tight at the corners, Guzman stood. “Allegiance until death.”

  I nodded in acceptance of their devotion. “One more thing. If any of you lay one finger on Eden Lachey, I’ll see each of you hanged, beheaded, then spiked in front of your own houses. She’s mine.”

  Fuck it. They already pledged allegiance.

  * * *

  I’d had enough tequila an hour ago.

  The men wanted to celebrate, and Mateo kicked me under the table when I opened my mouth to tell them to kiss my ass. A few bottles later, stories about my father had been told, and I’d lost count at how many times I rolled my eyes.

  Glancing at my watch, I finally stood up. “We reconvene tomorrow. Dismissed, men.”

  Twenty minutes later, most of them had dispersed to local cantinas to continue the celebration. Mateo left to pull the car around, leaving me and Guzman outside the plain adobe building. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I’d just punched in the number to the new phone I’d given Eden, when a voice behind me snarled in my ear.

  “I’ll never follow you. This is my cartel, you spoiled brat.” My knuckles cracked around the phone as his gun pressed against the back of my head. “You think you can just show up after six years and take what I’ve spent ten years kissing ass to claim? Fuck you, and your warnings.”

  “Pulling the trigger would be suicide, and you know it, Guzman. You were my father’s second. You, above anyone, should’ve known how this would play out when he died.”

  “What I know, you over-privileged little shit, is that you’ll get one thing you want.”

  I had to stall him. With a gun to the back of my head, he had the upper hand. My mind raced with any situation that’d end with my brains not being sprayed across the side of the building.

  “And what’s that, Guzman? Your dick, bronzed and on my mantle?”

  His calm chuckle unnerved me. “You and your American puta will be together forever.”

  “How do you figure?”

  He lowered his voice and leaned in close, the alcohol on his breath invading my nostrils. “Manuel Muñoz has probably slit her from throat to pussy by now.”

  It was as if a cold hand reached inside my chest, squeezed my heart, ripped it out still beating, and held it in front of my face. I couldn’t breathe, fighting through a numbness that overtook any emotion I’d found in recent weeks.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Think so? It’s a shame he had to rip that sexy, little black number to shreds when he gutted her. I’ll admit, she looked hot in it. I must know, Valentin, is it true? Does the carpet match the drapes?”

  I saw red. I didn’t care about stalling. I didn’t care about anything but getting to Eden.

  “Motherfucker!” I landed a sharp elbow into his stomach, immediately getting rewarded with a forceful grunt as he doubled over. Taking advantage of his vulnerable position, I twisted and grabbed the wrist holding the gun. Regaining his footing, he cursed, slamming me into the side of the building. Still holding his wrist with my left hand, I grabbed his throat with the right. “What did you do to her, you piece of shit traitor? If Muñoz touched her, I’ll see you both in hell!”

  He coughed as a sadistic smile crept along his face. “You’re not the only one who knows how to forge alliances, boy. You take from me, little Val, and I take from you.”

  The images in my mind swirled a torrid mix of blind rage and indescribable pain. Past and present raced toward one point in time and collided. The six-year old boy in me, and the thirty-year-old man I’d become, converged and imploded as history repeated itself before my eyes.

  Everything moved in slow motion. Guzman landed a punch to my stomach, causing me to loosen my hold on his throat. Gaining leverage, he wrestled the gun out of my grasp. Seeing the gun tuck
ed in my waistband, he tossed it behind him, then aimed his own gun at my chest.

  “Your old man fought me, too, Valentin. I wonder if I’ll get the same pleasure in watching you bleed out?” Steadying his hand, he tightened his finger around the trigger.

  Without a weapon to protect myself, I held his gaze and waited. The last thing I’d do on this earth wouldn’t be giving this asshole the satisfaction of looking away while he killed me. An arrogant smile lifted the edges of his thick mustache as the gun went off, the blast echoing in my ears long after the shot rang out.

  My last thought was of Eden. I wish I could’ve said goodbye. Without a doubt, I knew we weren’t headed to the same place. She’d have everlasting life. I’d burn for eternity.

  I waited for the pain…the blood…the coldness that told me I’d left this world.

  None of it happened.

  I ran my hands over my still dry shirt when I noticed blood seeping from the corners of Guzman’s mouth. Frozen in the darkness, I watched as his eyes rolled back in his head moments before his knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground.

  Tearing my fixated stare away, I glanced up to see Mateo standing behind him, his arm extended, and smoke still fuming from his gun. His eyes were a dangerous black with a depth of hatred I’d never seen from him.

  “Mateo?”

  “When we take our pledge, we do it with honor.” Looking down at Guzman’s lifeless body, he spit on him without remorse. “A man is nothing without honor. Death is mercy for a traitor.”

  There was more to say, but it’d have to wait for another time. Only one thing burned in my mind.

  Eden.

  “Car, Mateo. Where’s the car?”

  He pointed around the building. “Across the street. What’s happened?” Following behind me, he nodded toward Guzman. “Should I call a cleaner?”

  “Fuck it,” I growled. “Let it be a message. Leave him for whatever wild animal gives a shit enough to eat him.” Grabbing my gun off the ground, I hit the speed dial button to Eden’s number and cursed as it rang repeatedly with no answer. “Damn it!” Disconnecting the call, I hit redial, and got the same result.

  “Boss?”

  Bile rose in my throat as fear conjured my mother’s screams from a place in my mind I never allowed myself to revisit. Eventually, her voice became Eden’s, and I had to forcefully swallow vomit.

  “Get me to the plane. They have Eden.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Eden

  The gun shook as I pressed two fingers against Joaquin’s neck.

  Dead.

  The bartender from Houston in me wanted to scream and cry as I stood over the young man whose throat had been slit. His only crime was protecting me.

  However, the kidnapped woman in me, who’d lived through my brother’s execution, fifteen days of captivity, shootings, bombings, and a volatile affair with the drug lord who arranged it all, shut my fucking mouth and took his gun.

  I had no clue what happened inside the house, but common sense told me it had Muñoz written all over it. No civilian would have the balls to set foot on Carrera grounds, much less touch one of their men.

  Pressed up against a corner wall, my breath came hard and heavy. Sweat rolled down my temples, and I forced myself to calm down enough to think when the realization hit me.

  I was completely alone.

  Joaquin was dead, Val and Mateo were God knew where, and I’d crossed the border into a nightmare.

  “Eden Lachey…”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I crossed my arms against my chest with a gun in each hand and a layer of sweat building between the grips and my palms. The thick accent snarled with contempt as heavy footsteps moved around the living room.

  “Come out, Eden Lachey. The longer you make me chase you, the worse it’s going to be for you.”

  Stifling a scream, I pushed myself farther into the wall. As the footsteps moved closer, I opened my eyes and scanned the alcove for an escape route. Near panicking, I finally located a cracked door that led to a pantry the size of my dad’s entire house. I’d run into it earlier in a self-guided tour of the estate.

  Five hundred feet was all that stood between life and death.

  I was prey, hunted in a fatal game of cat and mouse.

  I wonder if this is what Nash felt like before he died?

  Leaving the security of my dark alcove scared the shit out of me, but logic told me I was seconds away from being found. Needing a free hand, I shoved my gun back into my thigh holster and held the grip of Joaquin’s with a sweaty grasp. Giving the Santa Muerte pendant a rub for good luck, I counted to three and pushed off the wall. My chest burned as I ran like hell toward the door, keeping a straight-line focus with a prayer on my lips.

  With no footsteps behind me, my heart beat wild with adrenaline.

  Holy shit, I’m going to make it.

  Just as my fingers closed around the corners of the open door, my phone rang.

  The phone I’d left in the pantry down the steps in front of me rang loud and repeatedly.

  No!

  Rapid footsteps pounded behind me.

  Tearing the door open, I took one step when a rough hand grabbed me by the hair and jerked me backward until I lost my footing and tumbled against a hard chest. Terror shot through me, and I managed one scream before a dirty and calloused hand clamped hard against my mouth. Out of nowhere, his other hand ripped the gun from my hands the moment I took aim.

  “Going somewhere?”

  When Emilio took me outside my father’s house, it was from behind. I never saw it coming and was unprepared for the attack. I never had a chance to defend myself or fight back.

  If death came for me tonight, it’d be with blood under my nails.

  Opening wide, I bit down as hard as I could on his fingers, immediately tasting blood on my tongue. Yelling loud, he shook his mangled hand, as droplets of blood splattered across the white walls. Seizing the opportunity, I quickly turned around and raised a knee, grazing the side of his nuts. It was enough to double him over and draw out a tortured groan.

  With no time to wipe errant tears, I took the pantry stairs three at a time, praying I didn’t stumble and fall. Part of me wanted to stop and look for the incessantly ringing phone to call Val, but I knew there wasn’t time. Once my eyes landed on the door leading to the courtyard, I broke into an all-out sprint.

  Almost.

  Every Thanksgiving, Nash would invite his buddies over to play tackle football after dinner. Every year, I’d beg him to let me play. Every year he’d give me the same answer.

  “No, Edie. You’re too breakable. Girls don’t play rough sports like this.”

  The year I turned sixteen, I’d had enough. Dressed in my sluttiest outfit, I talked Nick Tunstall into letting me play on his team, in exchange for letting him see my boobs. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I had a point to make. I rationalized that the ends justified the means.

  Nash had been half-right. It wasn’t that girls couldn’t play football; it was that they didn’t play with huge, two-hundred pound men. The first hit I took felt like what I imaged hitting a concrete wall at two-hundred miles per hour would feel like.

  That tackle felt like a massage compared to a direct hit from a Muñoz henchman.

  Catching me around the waist, the impact threw us both into the door. With his momentum behind me, I hit first, my chin smacking against the glass as it shattered. I didn’t hesitate to turn, kicking my legs wildly in the air and searching out any part of his body to connect to.

  “Stupid bitch!” With a roar, he swung his arm out and backhanded me across the cheek. The impact sent me sprawling against the door again. This time, the back of my skull connected with the glass with a sickening thud. As blurry vision clouded my line of sight, nausea crawled up my throat.

  I’m going to die right here.

  Clawing at my own leg, I blindly reached for my last hope. My fingers brushed the leather as he braced his forearm against my c
hest and pinned my arms in place. His gun settled against my temple and smiling a wicked grin, he cocked his finger. Shutting my eyes tight, I held my breath as he pulled the trigger.

  Silence.

  His grin widened. “Oops. No bullet in that chamber.”

  Tears rolled down my face as clarity came to me full force.

  All the times I begged Val to kill me, I didn’t want to die.

  Readjusting his hold on the gun, the man with dead eyes and a thin mustache pressed harder against my chest. “I have a surprise for you, Eden Lachey. We’re going on a trip…one that’ll lead the rat to the cheese.”

  “A trip?” I croaked the words roughly, my voice hoarse from screaming. Before he could answer, the meaning of his words hit me.

  They were setting a trap for Val.

  “You’re wrong,” I swore, shaking my head as much as I could under the pressure of the gun. “Valentin Carrera doesn’t give a shit about me.”

  Laughing, he adjusted his hold on the gun once more. “Nice try, bitch.”

  With brutality I’d never experienced in my life, he pistol-whipped me until I blacked out.

  * * *

  Gasoline.

  The stench of petroleum filled my nose way before sound did. It burned my throat and coated my stomach with a scent I could taste. Low conversation from above my head buzzed in my ear. The words sounded clipped and garbled as if I were in an alternate universe.

  They were different. They were unrecognizable. They were Spanish.

  Immediately, my body stiffened, and a searing pain shot from the base of my skull to the top of my head. Something inside of me warned my eyes not to open. It didn’t matter if they listened or not, because they felt glued shut.

  My wrists hurt with a familiar ache that reminded me of my arm being shackled to a metal bedframe. With concerted effort, my brain instructed my arms to move, only to be met with resistance.