Mateo
P.S. Since you have to work tonight, I had my men drive your car over. I’ll think of some ways you can thank me later.
Placing the note back on his pillow, I pulled the sheet around me and stared at the paper. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. If Mateo said he was here to protect me, I had to trust him. If he got arrested and didn’t leave me on purpose, I had to believe him. And if he claimed to have no idea what I was talking about when I condemned his choices after he got out, I had to find out why.
In fact, there were a lot of hard conversations I needed to have today, and without being sure what time Mateo left this morning, there was no time to waste. Wrapping the sheet around me, I stumbled toward the dresser, finding a full outfit folded neatly on the edge. The fact he’d neglected to bring me any undergarments wasn’t an oversight.
Asshole.
Five minutes later, I was dressed. After finger combing my hair, I gave myself a quick glance in the mirror. It wasn’t glamorous, but for where I planned on going, it worked just fine.
However, first thing was first.
Retrieving my phone from the couch where Mateo had thrown it, I sat down and dialed the number I’d called so many times I’d lost count. Even more was at stake now. With Mateo back in our lives, this silence had to end.
After eight rings, I hung up and dialed again.
Nothing.
My euphoric mood from last night vanished, leaving only the churning fear that’d been building for days.
“Answer, damn it!” I screamed into the mouthpiece. Not like it mattered. Even on the third call, I got nothing but a pleasant voicemail telling me to leave a message and it would be returned shortly.
Think, Leighton, think...
I had two options. One involved an entire legion of dangerous underground criminals I barely knew, while the other involved a decorated legal band of them related to me. My choice came down to the lesser of the two evils.
An hour later, I stood outside my mother’s office at City Hall. The place buzzed with activity as aides and interns rushed around with phones permanently attached to their heads. Fighting the urge to run back to my car, I approached the receptionist’s desk and forced a smile.
“I’d like to see Mayor Donovan, please.”
The male secretary, dressed in a bright blue tie and American flag pin, shuffled papers while typing one-handed on his laptop. “I’m sorry, the mayor is very busy. You’ll have you make an appointment.”
I placed a hand on the counter. “No, I need to see her now. Let her know Leighton is here.”
“Leighton?” he asked, his fingers pausing mid-type. “As in Leighton Harcourt? Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, Miss Harcourt. Right away.” Picking up the phone, he pressed a button and cleared his throat. “Mayor Donovan, I have your daughter in the lobby. May I send her back? Yes, of course.” Flashing an overly-white smile, he pointed down the hallway. “Take the hallway all the way to the end, make your first right, and it’s the third door on the left. She’s waiting for you.”
After multiple wrong turns, I finally made my way to her office. Not bothering to knock, I opened the door and walked right in. My mother sat behind her massive mahogany desk, every state-of-the-art electronic at her fingertips. Just like every space she occupied, the walls were covered in expensive artwork and the room was probably decorated by the highest priced interior designer ever to grace an office. I slowly sank onto the edge of the Italian leather chair and waited.
“Yes, a brand new six iron,” my mother said into the phone, holding up a manicured finger while rolling her eyes. “I know I just bought the set, but apparently he lost it playing last week.” She laughed in that fake high-pitched tone of hers. “Finn isn’t the calmest golfer, you know. He probably missed a drive and threw it in a pond. Next week will be fine. Thank you so much.”
And this is what she does all day. Taxpayers’ dollars well spent.
As she hung up the phone, I raised a disinterested eyebrow. “Problem?”
She waved her hand in the air. “You know your stepfather, he’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached.” Switching subjects, she clapped her hands together. “I’m so pleased to see you. I know it’s early, but there’s a coffee shop nearby we can walk to if you—”
“Mother, this isn’t a social call,” I said, cutting her off. “Last night at the party, Finn introduced me to a man named Alex Atwood.”
Her smile faded a little. “Ah yes, Finn knows so many generous donors in this city. He’s been a godsend.”
“Yes, well, godsend or not, he’s not safe.”
Deep set lines formed around her mouth. “Leighton, don’t be absurd.”
I hated myself a little for what I was about to say, but stroking her ego was the only way to reach her. “Look, I know in your own disturbing way you’ve tried to mend fences, but you don’t know that man, Mother. Not really.”
“And you do?” She let out a dainty chuckle. “Leighton, don’t worry. I collect a check from Alex and that’s all. His dealings are with Finn, and I trust my husband’s judgment.”
I took a deep breath. There was no use pushing the issue. She’d already made up her mind and slammed the door. Besides, Alex wasn’t the main reason I’d come here.
“Then let’s talk about what happened at the cantina,” I said, lowering my voice.
“Do you mean your rude behavior?” The sharpness in her tone hit a nerve, but I ignored it.
“No, you said Brody told you something.” Although I practiced saying the words in the car, I felt myself choking to get them out. “You said he told you my secret. When?”
“Does it matter? It should’ve been you, Leighton. All this time wasted...” Folding her hands in front of her, she sniffled, catching me off guard with a rare show of emotion.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Why wait until I came home?”
“Darling, it wasn’t my secret to tell. We hadn’t spoken to each other in four years much less had a relationship where I felt comfortable confronting you. I didn’t know how you’d react.” She lifted her chin, her eyes glassy. “Put yourself in my shoes as a mother.”
For the first time, I did. Also, for the first time in four years, I put my trust in her.
“I need help,” I admitted, my voice shaking. “As you can see, I came home alone. Everyone else has been relocated by federal agents, and I can’t find them.”
Her eyes widened. “Are they safe?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I can’t get in touch with them. That’s why I need your help.”
“Leighton, darling, I’m sure they’re fine, but I’m worried about you. You came home so abruptly and now you’re saying federal agents are involved. What’s happened?”
It wasn’t a topic we could tiptoe around, and I wasn’t ready to launch into a mid-morning confessional. “Please don’t ask me any questions. I can’t tell you anything else. I’ve already said too much. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but considering the circumstances, I’m sure you can understand why.”
Yeah, that last part was the tip of our hatchet still sticking out of its recent burial.
Baby steps.
She ignored my dig and attempted a smile. “I have access to a few agents. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Leighton, about that man from the party last night...”
“I said, thank you, Mother.” Shutting the conversation down, I redirected her focus away from Mateo. “How’s the campaign going?”
Her eyes brightened. I wasn’t shocked. As sophisticated as my mother thought she was, she wasn’t that hard to manipulate. As long as she was talking about herself, anything I did was forgotten. It was how I got away with sneaking out to see Mateo for seven months.
“My polls are steady,” she said, sinking back into political mode. “My opponent is trying to fabricate horrid rumors, but my campaign manager can take care of that.”
“Someone call for a cleaner?”
Both of us jumped, turning around to see Jackie standing in the doorway of her office. I had no idea when she’d snuck in, but thinking back to last night, she appeared to have a knack for it.
Mother threw her hands in the air and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Perfect timing! Jackie, can you please sit with Leighton for a bit? I need to make some calls for her, and I prefer that she not be alone.”
Jackie’s lips parted, revealing an obligatory smile. “Of course.”
“Wonderful. I’ll report back soon, darling.” As my mother rounded her desk and leaned in for her patented air kisses, I kept my eyes on Jackie. Her smile never wavered, and I wondered if her cheeks ever hurt from holding them in such an unnatural position.
As soon as Mother closed the door, Jackie lowered herself into the seat beside me. “So, how’s school?”
“Done,” I admitted. “I dropped out.”
Either she didn’t hear me admit to fucking up my life or she didn’t care because she continued to stare at me through heavily lined narrowed eyes. “Must’ve been hard living so far away. Weren’t you scared living alone in a strange town like that?”
“No, my grandparents lived near me.” What the hell was her problem? Her line of questioning was bizarre. “I don’t mean to be rude, but these are really odd questions, Jackie. You’re acting a little strange.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Am I? Well, I suppose we all act a little strange around here. Transparency isn’t one of our finer qualities.” Just as I was about to ask her if she stopped at the cantina to knock a few back before breakfast, she leaned in. “How’s your car?”
My car? What the hell?
Then it hit me. She knew about my accident. The back of my car was a little dented but still drivable. But there was no way in hell Jackie should know about it.
“You’re double parked,” she clarified as if reading my mind. “Someone reported it, and we ran your plates. You know, come to think of it, Mr. Donovan’s having his car repaired from a recent minor accident too. Funny coincidence, huh?”
My chest pounded. “Yeah.”
“I could arrange to have yours repaired too, if you’d like.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s in the campaign manager job description.”
“Leighton, a lot of things I do aren’t in the job description.” Uncrossing her legs, she stood with the grace of a lion. “By the way, I believe you kept a scrapbook—old clippings of your father’s career. Do you still have it?”
“I suppose it’s at my mother’s house in my old room somewhere,” I said, beginning to question her sanity.
Nodding, she brushed her hair over her shoulder. If I hadn’t been watching, I would’ve missed the tremble in her hand. “You might want to take a look at them. Great man, your father. Such a shame what happened to him. A real shame.”
“Yes, he was.”
Making her way toward the door, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You have his eyes, you know.” A sad smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “They tell the truth if you look long enough. I’ve always thought the eyes were the window to the soul.”
The familiar words slammed into me, and I felt like I was about to be sick.
“Look long enough into a man’s eyes and you’ll know his real intentions. The eyes are the window to the soul.”
They were words my father lived by. Words so meaningful to him I had them slipped into the pocket of his suit jacket before they closed the casket. I gripped the armrest until my knuckles cracked. How could my mother’s campaign manager know something so personal about him? My father was a friendly but intensely private man. His values and things that mattered most to him were only shared within a select group of people: his children, his wife, his parents, and people he loved and trusted.
Holy shit.
People he loved and trusted.
“Jackie, wait!” Scrambling to my feet, I ran after her, but she’d already disappeared down the hall. “Shit!” Slamming my fist against the doorframe, I raced past the reception area and tore out of the building.
With both my mother and Finn at work, there was no time like the present.
* * *
I took the stairs two steps at a time until I flung open the door to my old room. I didn’t have the time to be careful. Diving into my closet, I tore through mountains of old boxes until I came across the one I wanted. It was the size of a hat box, and when I ripped the top open, I didn’t allow myself the hysterical breakdown that usually accompanied looking at what remained of my father’s life.
No emotions. Not today.
Picture after picture, clipping after clipping, I scanned the words and forced myself to see my father’s smiling face. Nothing stood out as different. Nothing was out of place.
Jackie wasn’t trying to tell me something.
She hadn’t had some secret relationship with my father.
She was just a fucking lunatic.
Grabbing the lid to the box, I cursed under my breath and almost put it away when I saw it. It peeked out from beneath my father’s official promotion photo from cop to detective. Reaching in with a shaking hand, I pulled it out and time froze. Still, I didn’t cry. Maybe it was shock, but maybe, deep down a part of me always knew this moment would come.
The picture was worn, covered in countless salty tears, but the faces were still visible.
Hundreds of people had shown up for my father’s funeral, but only one person in the photograph standing next to his casket looked familiar.
The salt and pepper hair.
The deep dimpled chin.
Shoving the box back in the closet, I tucked the photo in my back pocket and left.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mateo
Slipping off my jacket, I draped it across a chair outside of the steel door. “Anyone see you come in?”
One of Brody’s more trustworthy sicarios shook his head and stepped out of my way. “No. This cabrón is really estupido. We got him first thing this morning in the parking deck outside his office. He couldn’t have made it easier.”
“How bad is he?”
“You said not to fuck him up, so just a few punches. Maybe a rib or two. He’s a rich asshole, so I may have gotten in a couple for myself.”
I slapped him on the back. “Good man.”
Kicking the door open, I stood back just to admire his handiwork. Finn Donovan looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a mountain lion and lost.
As with most of our holding tanks, this one was bare and cold. That was by design. The accommodations our guests found themselves in were minimalistic at best. The only luxuries we allowed were sight and sound. Mainly because solitary confinement needed to be absorbed in all its torturous glory, and that would be inhibited by a blindfold. Plus, gags just ruined all the screaming, and that was the best part.
All that surrounded me when I walked in were four concrete walls and a dusty tarp covered floor. Oh, and one wide-eyed rich fuck tied to a metal chair right in the middle.
His hands were bound behind him, and his ankles were tied together so tightly, if I took his shoes off, I wouldn’t be surprised to find them purple. Donovan wheezed from his cracked ribs, and a busted lip left dried blood caked over a dark bruise forming on his chin.
All in all, I was pleased with how he looked. My fists itched to get started, but business always took precedence over personal vendetta. My boots clicked against the hard floor beneath the tarp, and he slowly raised his chin. Our eyes connected, and I knew the moment he recognized me.
The chair wobbled as he jerked against his restraints. “Help!” he screamed, his voice hoarse. “Somebody, help me!”
I made a complete circle around him. “Finley, that’s a little disrespectful, don’t you think?”
“Disrespectful?” he heaved, spittle dribbling from the cracked corners of his mouth. “You people kidnapped me! You beat me, and I’m supposed to be nice? Fuck you!”
I smiled, enjoying his prolonged tortur
e. He expected me to pull out my gun, so knocking him off-balance with conversation amused the fuck out of me. “You people? See, that’s the type of hate that pulls communities like ours apart, Finley. I’m kind of offended.”
He jerked on his bindings again. “Let me go.”
“I believe in honesty, Finley, so I’m going to give it to you straight.” Grabbing the back of his chair, I got right in his face and smiled. “That’s not going to happen.”
“What do you want from me?”
“That was an interesting little party you threw last night. I learned a lot considering I wasn’t on the guest list, as you were so kind to point out. However, I felt like we didn’t have a chance to get to know each other. You know, one-on-one.” I motioned between us then slapped a firm hand against his cheek. “Man to shitbag.”
“I’ll tell you anything. What do you want to know?”
It took five minutes for him to cave. I wanted to put a bullet in his head just because I hated weakness, but I held back.
“What the fuck is with your obsession with Leighton? And while we’re on the subject, what’s your connection with Alex Atwood and Emilio Reyes?” Lifting a boot, I stepped onto the chair, crushing his balls. Finn let out a tortured howl, so I pressed a little harder. “Before you answer, I want you to know how much I hate being lied to.”
“Leighton is my stepdaughter,” he wheezed. “Is it so hard to believe I’ve missed her? I’m sure you would agree she’s grown into a beautiful woman.”
Even with his ball sack flattened, the asshole still managed to disrespect Leighton. I fought to control my disgust. “What about Atwood?”
“Alex is just a generous campaign donor for my wife. I don’t know the other guy you mentioned.” Letting out a relieved breath, he smiled.
After all this, the motherfucker was smiling. He wouldn’t be for long.
Removing my foot, I pushed his chair back a few feet. “You like to play games, huh? I’ve got one for you. It’s called Musical Dicks.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and queued up the infamous video, turning the volume up as loud as it would go. Wearing my own smile, I flipped it around and let the show begin.
Carrera Cartel: The Collection Page 48