Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  “And the others?”

  Dios mío. This man didn’t miss a beat. His version of hardball was a concrete fist.

  “Why don’t you let Brody go get you a bourbon.”

  It was another “fuck you” wrapped up in my reluctant hospitality, but I wanted him to know I had detailed intel on him too.

  “So, I drink bourbon and I enjoy fucking my wife,” he sing-songed as if he were being drawn into some childish game of mine. “I know for a fact you enjoy fucking yours too, and that you named your son after me. I hope the two aren’t related. Does Señora Carrera have a crush?”

  “Santiago is my mother’s maiden name, pendejo,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  He’d fired back by bringing my family into this, and the bullet had strayed too close to the mark.

  “Is he a danger to society like me, or just another Carrera disappointment?”

  “Would you like a twist of acid in your bourbon?”

  Someone cleared their throat to my left, and Santiago laughed. I didn’t give a shit if he feared me, but respect was another matter. He’d give it or get the fuck out.

  “The body was a show of faith, cabrón. A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

  “It’s a pretty blade sticking out of his face.” The room fell silent as he rose to his feet and made his way over to Ronan’s corpse. He bent down and removed Ava’s knife without flinching, and then ripping open the front of the dead man’s shirt, he calmly carved a couple of bone-deep initials into his chest.

  S

  C

  “Consider this a show of faith returned,” he declared, rising to his feet again, skidding the knife across the table toward me and leaving a crimson trail in its wake. “This truce is now borne in the blood of our joint enemy.”

  I stopped the blade with a single finger and held his gaze. “Then consider these negotiations open.”

  A second throat cleared to my left, and I smirked as with a flick of my wrist, the knife made a second trajectory down the table straight into Ava’s waiting hand. Shifting my gaze beside her, I arched an eyebrow at her husband. “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, Gaheris.” Raising my glass, I added, “And a hand over my dick.”

  Chapter Ten

  Adriana

  “Go away,” I yelled, hurling the sharpest point of my stiletto against the door. I didn’t care if it chipped holes in the expensive wood. After choking on a thick cloud of testosterone and bitch-fumes for the last hour, I deserved an outlet.

  A brief pause preceded the sound of shuffling feet from the other side. “What the hell was that?”

  “A five-thousand-dollar Jimmy Choo I’m imagining driving into your skull!” Drawing my arm back, I sank the shoe deep into the wood again for emphasis.

  Brody and I had gone back and forth like this for a solid ten minutes with him demanding entrance into Val and Eden’s bedroom, and me screaming obscenities through the door in Spanish before assaulting it with designer footwear. I assumed by now he would have given up, but I should’ve known better.

  The man was a skilled prosecutor. He didn’t hold the highest conviction record in Houston for nothing.

  Damn him.

  “Adriana, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”

  My pulse skyrocketed, and I wasn’t positive, but I might have blacked out for a second. “Oh, mi amado, overreacting would have been blowing your kneecaps off when you followed me into the house.”

  Followed... Right. More like chased. If I hadn’t been so fucking pissed, I might have laughed. We looked more like a victim and her attacker than a bride and groom. While climbing the stairs, we traded insults back and forth, and just as I sprinted toward the bedroom, he lunged. Seconds away from grabbing me, I slammed the door in his face.

  So, I did what any sane bride would do while her groom tried to kick the door off its hinges. I slipped back into my wedding dress.

  It made absolutely no fucking sense, but then again, nothing about this day did.

  This perfectly fucked-up day.

  Now, here I was, all dressed for a wedding I wasn’t sure was even going to happen.

  My grip tightened around my weapon of choice.

  Well, mostly dressed.

  Brody let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Princesa, even you have to admit you were out of line back there. Yes, you’re a Carrera, but inside the walls of Senado, bloodline doesn’t matter. There’s no hierarchy. Val is king, and his word is law. Challenging Ava Chernova and Viviana Santiago like that undermined his authority and made his command seem chaotic. First, eyes see, and then mouths talk.” He paused, his tone softening. “You know that better than anyone.”

  I winced. Padding barbed wire with cotton didn’t make it any less painful. It still had spikes. And when flung in your face, it still drew blood. My time spent as a prisoner of my own cartel wasn’t a topic I cared to think about—now or ever.

  “First of all, Viviana Santiago threatened to kill me, in case you’ve forgotten. That bitch deserved to have her fucking tongue ripped out.” Just the memory of her smug smile made me want to put my fist through the wall. However, I inhaled a calming breath and blew out any lingering animosity toward that Colombian whore. For now. “But I’m not talking about that.”

  “Then help me out,” he prodded. “Why are you so pissed off? And why are we having this conversation through a piece of wood?”

  For a few brief moments, I considered lying. But that wasn’t the woman I’d fought my way back from Hell to become, and it sure as hell wasn’t the couple Brody and I were. As mad as I was, he deserved the truth.

  The whole ugly truth.

  Closing my eyes, I slumped against the door, the pent-up wall of aggression inside me slowly crumbling. “I’m not like her, Brody.”

  “Her who?”

  “Leighton.” I clenched my teeth as I spoke her name. “Your sister is content with shaded half-truths, wagging her tail and barking on command like a Cocker Spaniel when Mateo tells her to heel.” Opening my eyes, I sank my bottom teeth deep into my upper lip. Comparing his sister to a furry pet. Nice touch. “No offense.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You told me about Cristiano showing up. You told me about the meeting and what Val had planned for Ronan Kelly. But then you patted my head and told me to behave while you beat your chest and rode off on your black horse.”

  “Adriana—”

  But I couldn’t stop. The Band-Aid had been ripped off, and the wound was exposed. “And if that wasn’t enough, when I showed up at Senado and took my place by your side, as your equal—your wife—you fucking collared me, Brody. You swung your dick around and yanked on the leash like I was a goddamn dog! And you did it in front of Santiago and his entourage. In front of the very bitch who insulted me. Did that make you feel good?” I exploded, smacking my palm against the door. “Did it make you feel important? Did my brother slap you on the back and give you an ‘atta boy for putting me in my place?”

  “That’s enough, Adri—”

  “Did you get what you wanted, lieutenant? Or would you have preferred if your pet had dropped to her knees and sucked your dick while the men talked?”

  The other side of the door got deathly quiet, and then…

  “Open the fucking door.”

  I staggered back, the harsh, demanding tone of his voice taking me by surprise. I knew that tone. Brody Harcourt had two moods: calm and nuclear. The thin line that separated them depended on the situation, but you never knew when it was coming. When he snapped—he snapped.

  So I kicked at the pieces. “Fuck you.”

  His low chuckle was far from amused. “Princesa, you have ten seconds to open this door before I break it down. Either way, I’m coming in.”

  “I’ve already told you…” Still gripping my shoe, I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the door. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

  “Five seconds.”

>   “I’m sorry, dogs can’t open doors. No thumbs.”

  “Two.”

  I’d lived with this man for almost a year and a half. We fought as hard as we loved, but he never made idle threats. After one, the door would come down.

  “Dios mío, fine.” Unlocking the door, I flung it wide open. “What?”

  Our gazes locked, and those penetrating hazel eyes—the ones that forced both vows of love and screams of passion from my lips—darkened. “Jesus,” he whispered, his voice rough. “You look beautiful.” The hands that mere seconds ago were tightly clenched by his side, released, and he shook his head. “My God, Adriana… I’ve imagined what you’d look like for months, but the fantasy…” His gaze traveled down the length of my body, dipping inside every crevice and caressing the heated skin lying beneath the thin layers of lace. “It doesn’t come close to the real thing. You’ve always taken my breath away, but this… I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”

  Don’t fold, I told myself. Stand your ground.

  But one look at him, and I crumbled. That damn rogue piece of blond hair that always flopped forward, dusted across his eyebrow as he drank me in, and I fell all over again. He wasn’t in his tuxedo yet, but it didn’t matter. Even dressed in black jeans and a white button-up, I’d marry him. In a wedding gown, in a red dress, or fucking shoeless.

  “Damn you, Harcourt.” I let out a sigh, and a five-thousand-dollar Jimmy Choo hit the floor. “I’m trying to be mad at you.”

  It only took two steps for him to sweep me into his arms. “Baby, I didn’t want you at the meeting because this is the one day that’s for you. I didn’t want it to be about the cartel or murder or sex trafficking rings. I wanted one perfect day for you to remember. A day you could tell our children and our grandchildren about without having to censor pieces of information. I wasn’t trying to control you, Adriana. I was trying to give you a gift.”

  Every time. Every damn time I tried to villainize this man, he managed to blindside me and turn everything inside out and upside down. My shoulders hung heavy as I lightly punched his chest. “You really know how to ruin a girl’s pity party, don’t you?”

  A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his perfect golden-boy mouth. “And as far as what I said to you at Senado? Ava Chernova is a Bratva pakhan. Viviana Santiago has the entire South American regime under her control. You want respect and support as a female leader in your world? You need to practice what you preach and stop pissing in your sisterhood sandbox.”

  God, I hated when he made sense.

  “Fine,” I bit out between clenched teeth.

  One hand from my waist slid up to cup my cheek. “I’m sorry, did you say I was right?”

  “Watch it, counselor. I still have twenty minutes to change my mind.”

  His cocky smirk twisted into something much darker. Tightening his hold, he walked us backward, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “Twenty minutes, huh?”

  Fuck, I knew that look too. “No!” Planting my feet, I shot my arm out and pressed my palm against his chest. “Don’t even think about it. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

  It was cute that I thought standing like a no-sex zone crossing guard would stop him. We’d agreed to two weeks of pre-wedding celibacy, but Brody’s movement never faltered, each step pushing me and my pathetic arm backward. “No, I’m not, which makes it even more enticing, don’t you think? It’s been a while, but I think I still remember how to calm that fiery temper of yours.”

  His last step sent my back against the wall, and I let out a low grunt. Digging for one last shred of willpower, I opened my mouth to try and douse this flame he was determined to fan, but his next words stole them right out from under me.

  “Besides, I want to say, ‘I do’ with your taste on my lips.” As usual, when it came to him, a switch flipped in my head. All I could do was nod as he dragged my vintage wedding gown up my legs and tucked the bunched fabric under my arm. “Be a good girl and hold this.”

  Again, I nodded, my voice still lodged somewhere in between my throat and my chest.

  I closed my eyes. Not because I didn’t want to watch, but because I wanted to block out everything about today: the wedding, the meeting, the fight. All I wanted in my head was him.

  “Brody,” I moaned as he sank to his knees and lifted one leg over his shoulder.

  Tugging the thin barrier of lace to the side, he brushed his lips inches away from where I needed him. “Yes, princesa?”

  “Paybacks are a bitch.”

  A low chuckle was all he offered before his mouth attacked, his tongue immediately finding my clit. If it weren’t for the wall, I would have collapsed under his relentless assault.

  “Ay, Dios mío, yes…” Shamelessly, I chased the release just out of reach. The one spinning in a vortex of color. White, red, and black swirled together, each shouting as I shouted back. Somewhere inside, I knew it all meant something, but I was too close to the edge to care. And as my future husband wrapped his lips around the most sensitive part of me and sucked, I screamed out his name. “Brody!”

  “Adriana, are you… What. The. Fuck?”

  Panic shot through me, and my eyes snapped open just as Brody spun around. We both stared, horrified as Val stood in the open doorway, murder carved into his face. I didn’t know what was louder, Brody’s curses or the sound of my own pulse roaring in my ear. We all three stood staring at each other, my mouth hanging open like a goddamn fish while Brody dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

  Which did nothing but make him look like he’d snorted a box of glazed donuts.

  Finally, Val spun around, presenting us with clenched fists and a tuxedo-layered view of the tightly coiled muscles in his back.

  “Go,” I whispered under my breath. “Now.”

  Clearing his throat, Brody, walked as nonchalantly as he could past my now seething brother, pausing only to nod his head. “Val.”

  Please don’t make a scene.

  Val stopped him with a hard hand across his chest. “This isn’t over, asshole,” he growled.

  Damn. So close.

  Brody didn’t acknowledge the threat; instead, he kept walking, leaving me alone with a man who just saw way more of his sister than any brother ever should.

  Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt at warding off the headache brewing behind my eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looked.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face me, the deep timbre of his voice deceptively calm. “Did he lose his boutonniere in your underwear?”

  Remembering Eden’s post-fuck face from earlier, I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to fight back. Instead, I attempted to reason with him. “Okay, so we got carried away.” Bending down, I scooped my abandoned shoe off the floor and slipped it back on my foot. “But it is my wedding day. Besides, you could knock once in a while, you know.” Preparing for round two, I glanced up to see Val staring at me, a grainy, unfocused look in his eyes. “What?”

  “That dress...” The two words grated out of him like raw sandpaper. The unfamiliar sound stilled the room as I watched my brother, a man who took exceptional pride in showing little to no emotion, falter before my eyes.

  And then it hit me.

  She didn’t tell him.

  “It was mamá’s.” Running my hands down the intricate lace, I spread my arms, offering a timid smile as the cascading flutter sleeves turned me into a colorless butterfly. “How does it look?” Val didn’t say anything. He just continued to stare, painful nostalgia sinking deep into the lines framing his mouth.

  My smile dropped along with my arms and my heart.

  Oh God.

  “I knew it,” I breathed, wishing the room would swallow me whole. “Eden gave it to me, but I told her it was a—”

  Two fingers against my lips silenced me. “Bichito.”

  The word caught me off guard. Pulling away, I frowned. “Little bug?”

  His stare was more guarded this time, bu
t a cool mist of nostalgia still lingered in his gaze. “It’s what I called you when you were a baby. Before…” His nostrils flared as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Well, just before. I didn’t think I’d ever get this moment.”

  Before our mother was murdered, and I was raised by our family’s worst enemy.

  We were headed down a dark path that would only destroy this day for both of us, so, turning the wheel, I redirected his focus. “You’re about to have your own daughter, Val. You’ll have your moment.”

  A slice of clarity cut through the haze. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Even after you came back, I didn’t think you’d come back.”

  Again, he let the unspoken meaning of his words hang in the air. He didn’t think I’d successfully flip the switch and swear loyalty to the family I was raised to hate. After all, in our world, a father’s wrath burned eternal.

  “And now you do?”

  “Yes, I do. You’re a Carrera. Deep down, I think you always have been. I’m glad my daughter will have you to learn from.”

  “She has Eden,” I reminded him.

  His lips quirked. “Yes, and my wife is an amazing mother. She’s embraced this life and this culture better than I could have ever hoped.” Coming from any other man, the words would sound patronizing, but from Valentin Carrera, they were reverent. “But as much as she could learn or live, she’ll never know what it’s like to grow up as a Latina child in a warzone. You do. You can teach my daughter survival skills Eden can’t.”

  He was right. I could, and I’d do with it honor. My niece had a strong, loving mother, but only the daughter of a drug lord could understand one. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

  He smirked. “Why do you think I waited until she wasn’t around?” I laughed as the thick tension from before eased into a fresh calm. Val’s eyes darted to the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table, his stern expression settling back into boss mode. “Are you ready?”

  “I think so.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you’re not.”

  “I’m sure,” I said with more conviction. “I love Brody. I want to be his wife.”