Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  And I wasn’t the one looking down the barrel of a Colt 1911 .38 Super.

  All this time I’d believed him. All this time I’d trusted him. In the end, I’d been a fool because all this time I’d been used.

  “Eden,” he pleaded, searching for a shred of the affection we’d shared. “I love you.”

  There’s a fine line between love and hate.

  Watching him grovel for his life, I suddenly understood the meaning behind the phrase. When I loved a person, I saw them through rose-colored glasses. Everything was perfect…until it wasn’t. I walked the line until I got knocked off and opened my eyes to the person I’d been blind to. My heart became torn, desperate to recapture the first untainted moments where the line was straight and steady. Before I knew it, hate filled the space where the love vacated, and my heart battled with my head.

  Like an addict who promised one more hit would be the last, I knew it was a lie but told it anyway. I knew I couldn’t stop. The cycle always repeated and I hurt myself until there was nothing left but hate for the both of us.

  Unless the cycle ends.

  I thought the past eighteen days had hardened me to violence, so it surprised me when my chin quivered. Vengeance took my salvation, but apparently, a conscience still resided somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind. Maybe that was one thing he hadn’t killed. Maybe that was the last shred of humanity I could hold onto as I burned in hell for the path I'd walked.

  I would’ve done anything for him. He’d held me in his arms and promised to protect me.

  I didn’t bother to stop the lone tear as it rolled across my nose and fell onto my bottom lip, pausing briefly before tumbling down my chin. “I love you too,” I whispered as I unloaded the gun, my mask slipping as he stumbled.

  It’s funny how sometimes the people you’d give your life for are the ones who take it.

  My breath came in shallow spurts as my hand shook. The last thing I remembered was kneeling, my eyes landing on my father, standing fifteen feet away from me with his shoulder turned toward the wall.

  The part where I reached for the gun tucked in my thigh holster was a complete blur.

  My father staggered against the wall, grabbing his chest with both hands, gritting his teeth as if in severe pain. “Edie! Oh, Jesus…why…?”

  Coming down from the shock of pulling the trigger on my flesh and blood, a curtain fell over my emotions. No longer did the same heart beat between us. My own father sold me and Nash out to save his own ass. Val was right all along.

  “You can stop the theatrics now, old man. I missed.”

  Opening one eye, he glanced down, and realizing no blood stained his shirt, he sighed. “Thank God…oh, sweet mercies.”

  “No,” I said, frowning as I shrugged one shoulder. “Not God. Thank bad aim. If you’d had a can sitting on your head, I would’ve blown your dick off.”

  “Edie?” Taking a cautious step forward, he tilted his head as if seeing me for the first time. “What’s happened to you?”

  “I’m an orphan, you son of a bitch.”

  “No.” He patted his chest as if that made things all better. “I’m here. We still have each other.”

  My arm extended, and he froze mid-step as I aimed the gun at his chest again. “You’re dead to me.” A laugh erupted, ending in a wet cough that burned my chest. “You know what’s pathetic, Dad? I’ve been held captive by a man you made me a living beacon for, then warned me to stay away from.”

  Tears filled his weathered eyes. “Baby, I—”

  “But you know what the most fucked up part is, Dad?” I interrupted, biting down on his name as if saying the word caused me physical pain. “Val Carrera has been the only man in my whole life besides Nash who has cared more about me than himself.”

  “Oh, Edie…you didn’t…

  “Sleep with him? Is that what you want to ask me, Dad? Did I follow my usual open-leg policy and lay down with the enemy?” I smiled, the thought of our last morning together outside his house in Monterrey filling my mind. “You’re damn right I did—over and over again.”

  In an instant, my father’s face hardened, and his eyes frosted with an icy glaze. “Well, I guess once a whore always a whore.”

  Shifting slightly to the right, I pulled the trigger again. My father let out a blood-curdling scream that had me rolling my eyes. “Will you please shut up?”

  “You shot me again! My own daughter!”

  “I didn’t shoot you. I shot at you.” Shaking my head, I sighed at my own ineptitude and conscience. “For all you are, and the father you aren’t, for some fucked up reason, I still can’t kill you.”

  A commotion up the stairs pulled my attention away from my father and toward the door. With a slew of obscenities, Manuel Muñoz flew down the stairs, an entourage of men clamoring behind him. In the middle of him, Marisol stood sandwiched, a gun tucked in her perfectly manicured hand.

  I backed up as fast as I could, but with broken ribs and a sprained ankle from the tumble down the stairs, Manuel easily caught up with me, jerking the gun out of my hand and grabbing me in a choke hold. “Where the fuck did you get a gun, puta?”

  Clawing at his arm, I fought for air. “I... I…can’t…”

  “Let her go!”

  Unable to turn my head, I rolled my eyes to the side as my father’s clenched fists charged toward Manuel. I tried to shake my head and warn him to stay where he was.

  “What the hell do you care, Lachey? She’s been down here using you for a target practice.”

  “I’m warning you, Muñoz, take your hands off my daughter, or—”

  Groaning, Manuel turned over his shoulder toward Marisol. “You know what? I’ve had just about as much of the protective father act as I can take. You?” Marisol shrugged as Manuel raised his gun and pumped four rounds into my father’s chest.

  With the kick-back, Manuel’s hold lessened enough for a full scream to tear from my throat as my father dropped to the ground in an explosion of angry red splotches that quickly soaked his shirt.

  As Manuel readjusted his hold, I struggled to free myself.

  I’m next. I’m next. I’m next.

  The words repeated over and over in my head, until I swore I said them, out loud.

  With a kiss to my temple, Manuel chuckled in my ear. “Perk up, Cereza. The fun has arrived.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Valentin

  The last thing I wanted to do was announce my arrival by shooting out a window, but once I heard her scream, I would’ve bulldozed my way in. With the commotion behind me, I knew Muñoz sicarios were minutes from pumping a few bullets in my back.

  When gunshots rang out, I froze, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I hadn’t been hit. Having been shot before, I knew sometimes the bullet tore through so fast, there was no way to know it had even hit until someone screamed, or blood stained a shirt.

  The irony always made me shake my head. A bullet could rip through a man’s skin, likely severing vital organs in the process, yet the only thing he’d feel would be the wetness of blood.

  Once I knew the gunshots weren’t meant for me, my heart constricted as another scream traveled up the stairs, leading from the basement.

  Eden.

  Without a second thought, I ran full force to the door where I knew I’d find her. Tightening my hold on my gun, I kicked it open, ready to blow anyone’s head off who dared get in my way. As I stepped one foot off the ledge, a gun pressed against my temple.

  “Don’t fucking move, Carrera.” Ripping the gun from my hand, one of Manuel’s enforcers smiled as he swung the tip toward the bottom of the stairs. “Only the hosts get party favors.” Laughing at his own joke, he pushed the muzzle harder against my skull. “Now go…you’re the guest of honor.”

  I half expected him to either shove me straight to the bottom, or go ahead and put a bullet in my brain. He did neither. He just continued fucking smiling to himself as I slowly took one step at a time, making sure to stay a
ware of my surroundings.

  The moment I hit the bottom, all hell broke loose.

  “Ah, El Muerte, welcome. We’ve been anticipating your arrival. Sorry for the mess. One of our guests forgot his manners.”

  The familiar scent of spilled blood drew my attention to an older man crumpled on the floor in a pool of it. By himself, a dead man in a basement would mean little to me. However, as my eyes traveled back to the voice, I knew without question the dead man was Elliot Lachey.

  My mouth went dry as my gaze landed on Manuel Muñoz, his forearm wrapped around Eden’s throat. She struggled against him, her face red from lack of oxygen.

  A murderous blinding rage shattered my hold on the humanity Eden had resurrected the minute I saw what he’d done to her.

  Her beautiful face stared back at me, mangled and covered in too many bruises and gashes to count. Both her right cheek and right eye were swollen, and blood trickled from both nostrils and the corners of her mouth. We locked gazes and her brows furled as she fought for every rattled breath.

  Broken ribs.

  Her exposed arms and legs were covered in bruises and cuts, as if she’d been thrown around like a rag doll. Deep lacerations on her wrists drew my eyes, sickening me to the permanent reminder she’d suffered for me.

  I held her eye, communicating without words.

  He’ll pay. On the soul of my mother, he’ll pay.

  “Let her go, Muñoz. This is between you and me. She has nothing to do with it.” My mind raced, frantically trying to come up with workable scenarios where four against two logically came out in our favor. I kept coming up short, especially since the four were armed, and the two had nothing but the small pistol attached to my ankle holster. Unfortunately, with four guns drawn, one of them would put a bullet in Eden before I could reach for it. I wasn’t willing to risk it.

  “Hello, Val.”

  Who the hell was the woman? “Do I know you?”

  “Probably not. But I’ve studied you for a while now, and I think I understand you more than most anyone.”

  “I doubt that,” I shot back with full conviction.

  Stepping out of the shadows, she ran a hand through her long dark hair, and I immediately took a step back. Something didn’t feel right.

  “I’m the one that ordered the hit on your new girlfriend’s brother.” She smiled and moved closer. “I’m the one who’s been tracking you, turning all your allies against you.” Pounding her chest with her palm, the light hit her eyes, highlighting flecks of glittered anger. “I’m the one who watched you long enough to know you had such a hard-on for your own lieutenant’s bartender that it was just a matter of time before you fucked up.”

  A rock landed in my stomach. “You didn’t get Elliot Lachey hooked on coke.”

  A wicked smile spread across her face. “Didn’t I?”

  “Oh, my God,” Eden croaked, her voice hushed and strained from Manuel’s restrictive hold. “It’s you. You’re the woman from the bar. You were sitting at the end the night Val came in. I remember because…because it was the night Nash was killed.”

  As if on rewind, my mind traveled back to the night at Caliente. Eden had just commented about the news broadcast of Nando’s death when the two drunk assholes made remarks about her that made me want to blow their nuts off. Eden had been making conversation with a lady in the corner with long dark hair…holy fuck.

  “You’re Isabella Diego.” Everything hit me at once.

  “Actually, boss, there’s one more thing.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “One of our new dealers, Isabella, let us know a repeat buyer in Maplewood has put four grams of our shipment up his nose. He’s in for about ten g’s and missed the last two drops…”

  I’d worried one of my high-ranking men had been a leak. Not once did I consider a street-dealing woman would take me down.

  “No, not Isabella.” She pulled her hair to the side and tucked the other behind her ear. “Marisol. Marisol Muñoz.”

  “Muñoz?”

  “Yes, Valentin…Muñoz. As in Manuel’s sister and Esteban’s daughter. I’ve been away for many years while you’ve been in America. Too bad we won’t be getting better acquainted.”

  “Mari! We’ve been here too long. It’s time to finish this and leave.”

  My gaze reverted to Manuel, his hold still firm on Eden. I had no idea if Mateo and Brody were still alive, but I had to stall for time.

  “I thought this was a party, Manuel. Where’s your sense of hospitality? Leaving so soon?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted smile as Manuel pressed the muzzle of his gun against Eden’s temple. Catching my eye, he lowered his lips behind it and blew into her hair. “You always did have an overdeveloped sense of entitlement, Carrera.” The moment his tongue darted out and licked Eden behind the ear, I almost forgot everything and gave in to the rage boiling inside of me. “I see why this one caught your attention, Valentin. Tell me, does she taste as good between her legs as she does behind her ear?”

  “Motherfucker!”

  “Manuel!” My head spun around to face Marisol, her face hot with anger. “We are many things, but you will not speak that way to a woman in front of me. Do you understand?”

  “Fine,” he muttered, lowering his eyes.

  The exchange fascinated me—the tiny, younger sister commanding an iron rule over the much larger and callous older brother. But figuring out their dynamic was at the bottom of my priority list. Manuel still held Eden and showed no signs of letting her go. The fear in her eyes gutted me, and I knew I’d do anything to take it away.

  “So, what do you want me to do with them, your highness?” Manuel shot back, a slight edge of resentment creeping into this voice.

  “Dealer’s choice,” she answered with a wave of her hand. “You’re the muscle in this partnership, not me. I have no stomach for it.” Nodding to one of the guards, she walked away. He moved ahead of her, dutifully opening a side door I hadn’t noticed when entering the room.

  Her brother cocked an eyebrow, his eyes following her every move. “Where are you going?”

  “Guadalajara,” she smiled over her shoulder with one foot out the door. “My work in America is done. Adios, Valentin.” Giving me a wink and pursing her lips in a mock kiss, she left as the lieutenant closed the door behind her.

  Using Eden as a human shield, Manuel turned toward me. “I guess there’s just one thing left to do.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s cake,” I offered with a well-timed smirk.

  Where the hell was Mateo?

  Throwing his head back, Manuel laughed with a roar. “No, but I’ve got a game we can play.” Pulling his gun away from Eden’s temple, he bounced it between her head and my chest, each word he spoke, punctuated by an aim of the muzzle. “Eeny, meenie, minie, moe...”

  The moment his mouth formed the last word, I looked into the barrel of his gun. As I reached for my ankle holster, I heard Eden scream my name, but it melted into ripples of white, hot heat as pain shredded my insides like a warm knife through butter.

  I take that back…sometimes, a man absolutely knows when he’s been shot.

  Chaos ensued around me as multiple shots rang out, and shouting echoed in a warped bubble above my head. One word repeated on my lips as I hit the ground.

  “Eden…”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Brody

  “You’ve been shot!”

  Soaked with blood and holding his side with a hard grimace, Mateo still managed to shoot me a disgusted glare out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, and you’re a fucking genius.” Grunting in pain, he waved his gun across the street. “Get in the car.”

  “And leave you here? Have you been hoping for an early death or are you just really masochistic?” Why I stood there instead of hauling my ass inside four panels of reinforced steel remained a mystery to me. What had happened in the last hour to alter everything I held sacred and cause me to jump head first into the
inferno between life and death? Six hours ago, I sat in my orderly tenth-floor office where everything made sense and life had order. With one phone call and a snap decision, I’d found myself neck deep in a drug-war stand-off with bullets flying at me from all angles.

  All because two women had found themselves on Manuel Muñoz’s radar. One who had done nothing but love me, and one who had done anything but. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

  Gunshots rang out in the distance, along with angry shouts in clipped Spanish.

  “Shit!” Mateo coughed, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth and trickling down his chin. With another garbled curse, he smeared it across his cheek with the back of his hand while waving his gun at me. “We don’t have time for this. I said get in the car, Brody. I got this.”

  The shouts became closer and more heated as Mateo wheezed and attempted to steady a shaking trigger finger. Boldly rolling my eyes at the second in command of the Houston leg of the Carrera Cartel, I grabbed his wrist and hauled his arm around my shoulder for support.

  “Yeah, you really got this, don’t you? You can barely breathe as it is. Whether you like it or not, lieutenant, you need me, and whether I like it or not, my conscience won’t let me turn my back on you, Eden, or even fucking Carrera. So, how about you stop arguing and try working with me, huh?”

  I expected an argument. When he simply nodded his head around the back of the house where Val had disappeared moments earlier, I raised an eyebrow. Supporting his arm, I stumbled around the corner with Mateo draped over my shoulder. I didn’t take much time to consider why I wasn’t more nervous about what we were doing. If I’d stopped to think about it, I’d realize we were walking into a mass suicide, and the thoughts I’d allow myself would probably be my last. I didn’t have the years of gun handling expertise these men had. They’d avoided taking a bullet to the back of the head their entire lives. My target practice included weekend paintball with my fraternity brothers where I got my ass handed to me.

  “Are you sure about this? My loyalty is with Val. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Mateo dug his feet into the grass, causing us to come to a complete stop. He glanced up, his bloodshot eyes raising from his bowed head, serious and unwavering.