Carrera Cartel: The Collection Page 33

  “It gets better,” she promised, then squished her face into a grimace. “Well, it gets not so shitty. You get regulars who’ll tip better, and the night crowd wallets are always more open.”

  “Well, it can’t get any worse,” I grumbled.

  “Not today it doesn’t.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your first table on your own and you just got sat with one hell of a hottie. I tried to take it off your hands, but he specifically asked for you. I swear, you blondes really do have more fun.”

  I started to tell her that blondes also get into more trouble when I happened to glance to where she pointed. I didn’t know whether to be irritated or excited. “That’s no hottie,” I said with a sigh. “That’s my brother.” Leaving her standing there, I stomped toward the small table on the other side of the bar.

  Crouching down, I whispered in his ear, “Business lunch get rerouted or did the governor have a hankering for shitty fajitas?”

  I expected him to jump. Instead, he straightened his spine and cocked his head. “That’s a hell of a way to sell the menu, sis.”

  Trailing a fingernail along the edge of the table, I shifted to stand beside him. He glanced up at me with a sincere smile, certainly looking the part of an assistant district attorney: crisp black suit, white starched shirt, and his signature red power tie.

  “Life’s too short to eat bad food.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I really like the salsa.”

  Liar.

  “Maybe you just wanted to check up on me.”

  “Or maybe my business lunch got pushed back, and I decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

  I winced. “Bad choice of wording, Brody.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered, regret in his eyes. “Speaking of which, we need to talk about your problem.”

  No way were we discussing this. Not here. “There’s no problem anymore, right?”

  “As far as I know. However, a problem just doesn’t go away when there are no answers, Leighton,” he chastised with a pitying look. “I think you owe me a few, don’t you? This isn’t a normal situation and you know it. Why didn’t you question me yesterday? You never do what I say without an argument, and this isn’t a normal favor.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” I shot back, digging in my apron for my order pad. I didn’t like how the tables had turned, and I needed to divert his attention.

  He sighed my name long and hard. “Leighton…”

  Bending down low, I whispered in his ear, “I don’t care to know what happened to him or why. Now leave it alone.”

  I could hear his teeth grinding, deciding whether to fire back or pick his battles. Luckily for me, he wasn’t declaring war. “Fine. Can I get a beer then?”

  “In the middle of the day?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He tapped his wristwatch. “I’m clocking out. Would you like to card me, too, or are we going to argue about that as well?”

  “I thought you had someone from the DA’s office meeting you?”

  “Not that it concerns you, but no, I’m meeting an associate from RVC Enterprises. I’ve decided to expand my investment portfolio, and it’s a solid real estate company. I’d be stupid not to get my hands in it.”

  Get your hands dirty is more like it.

  RVC Enterprises was a money laundering front for Valentin Carrera and everyone knew it. My brother was an idiot if he thought people would see him any differently. It pissed me off he thought I was clueless enough to buy his line of bullshit.

  “RVC, huh? And will you be meeting with the lady who runs it?” Since Carrera left Houston, rumor had it that his secretary had taken over the day-to-day operations.

  “No, smartass. For your information, I’m meeting with the second largest shareholder, Mateo Cortes.”

  Son of a bitch.

  It couldn’t be this easy. Emilio and Mateo in one building? Everything was falling into place. This time my smile was real. Vindication did that to a person, and luckily, it filled all the available places in my brain, so thoughts of Luis couldn’t sneak in. Shoving my order pad back in my apron, I gave Brody’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “One beer, coming right up.”

  “And one for Mateo when he gets here.” He grinned. “But hold the sarcasm.”

  Rolling my eyes, I returned to the bar where the useless bartender sat in the middle of the sticky floor mat flipping through the pages of Bartending for Dummies.

  I wish I were kidding.

  “Hey, Sarah?” I lifted onto my tiptoes and yelled down to her, hoping I got her name right. “Do you mind if I pour a beer for a customer?”

  She shrugged, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders as she motioned to the page she’d dog-eared. “Knock yourself out. I’m only up to the D’s. Who the hell would drink something called a Dirty Martini?”

  Ugh. Where did Emilio find these morons?

  Choosing to keep my comments to myself, I stared at the back of Brody’s head as I tipped the mug and poured the beer from the tap.

  As much as this felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, I wasn’t. This was real, and I was on my own. There was no hero at the end to save me.

  So, I was saving myself.

  Chapter Six

  Mateo

  “Nice of you to finally show up.”

  Brody sat at a small table facing the front door wearing a scowl when I walked into Caliente. Unzipping my black leather jacket, I slung it over the back of the opposite chair, choosing to ignore his blatant insubordination. I didn’t have any sisters, but if I did, I suppose having one at the center of a cartel sit-down would make me antsy too.

  “I stopped in Brownsville and had a tea party with the Border Patrol.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t realize it was open mic night.”

  “Watch it,” I warned, taking my seat. “I’m here to help, but I can just as easily go back home.”

  His face fell, his hands raising in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You want a beer?”

  “One would be a good start.”

  “Perfect, I’ve already ordered you one.” Brody nodded to a black backpack sitting by his feet. “I brought some things for you to check out.”

  Sitting back, I watched him trace the condensation on the outside of his glass, my silence making him fidget. “A little anxious, huh?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “You’re not the one who spent the morning standing over a rotting corpse. I think I win this round.”

  His pinched expression quickly faded, his eyes widening with interest. “What did you find out?”

  “That San Marcos is just as much of a shithole as I remember.”

  “I’m serious.”

  So was I. The neighborhood I found myself in after a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride was more of an eyesore than the city forced to claim it.

  “It looked untouched. Delgado had to have been dead for at least seven hours. The place should’ve been crawling with cops, but that’s not what bothered me the most.”

  He leaned in. “I’m listening.”

  “I tried the doorknob before causing a scene by kicking the whole damn thing in. It was locked.”

  “So?”

  I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Brody, but when it came to his sister, his reactions weren’t the most rational. Also, I doubted he’d like what I had to say.

  “Maybe your sister isn’t as innocent as you think she is.” As expected, Brody’s eyes darkened. “What girl struggles with her abusive boyfriend, accidentally shoots him, then has the mental awareness to remember to lock the front door?”

  “My sister is innocent.” Every muscle in his neck tightened.

  “So you keep saying. Who are you trying to convince here?” He just glared at me, so I gave up on pushing the issue for now. Leaning back, I changed the subject. “You do know how lucky you are, right?”

  “How so?”

  “Brody, come on,” I said, gesturing toward him. “
If this were anyone else, you and your sister would be dust by now.”

  “Val doesn’t hurt women.”

  “No, Val doesn’t hurt women unnecessarily,” I corrected, stressing the last word. “Your sister murdered one of our men. Remember the code you willingly took?”

  He paled. “I remember.”

  “Exactly, and although Delgado was a lowlife shit, he was still one of our own. It wasn’t your or your sister’s choice to take him out. Only Val can make a call like that.”

  We’d had this conversation on the phone, but it beared repeating.

  “He would if he knew what else was at stake.”

  I waited for him to explain and when he didn’t, I lost my patience. “If you have something to say, just fucking say it, Brody.”

  He slammed his fist on the table, causing silverware to rattle and a few curious eyes to turn our way. “I can’t tell you. I gave my word to Leighton no one would find out.”

  “And I gave my word to Val that I would.”

  He opened his mouth to speak then closed it as a woman rushed by carrying a tray on her shoulder. I barely noticed her, inhaling slowly, ready to push him until he broke when my mind went blank.

  Fresh cut wildflowers.

  Senses were a funny thing. Just one scent of fresh cut wildflowers and I was lying on a damp embankment staring up at the night sky again.

  “How come you know so much about stars?”

  “I like reading about them. They’re just all this crazy stuff held together by gravity.”

  “Kind of like you and me.”

  “No, Matty, you are my gravity.”

  Shaking my head, I tore myself out of the past. However, as agitated as I was, I still couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her familiar form caught my attention, captivating me into silence. She was dressed in cut-off denim shorts so tiny her ass peeked out from under the fringe and a black tank top that stretched over her petite frame.

  Before I could stop myself, I’d leaned forward, straining for a closer look at the small but curvy woman buzzing around the cantina as if slinging chips and salsa were a matter of life or death. The swell of her ass cheeks fell out of her shorts even more as she set the tray on the bar and leaned over to hand in a drink order. The move earned her a glare from Emilio’s new bartender, who looked more frantic than friendly as she desperately flipped through a drink manual and measured shot pours.

  I’d put money on the fact she’d never mixed a drink in her life.

  Yep, Emilio’s fucking her.

  Apparently the waitress agreed because she shook her head, grabbed the manual out of the bartender’s hands, turned the page, and handed it back. The scowl she got in return made me smile. I quickly cleared my throat, and ran a hand across my lips, pretending to smooth the hairs of my goatee, although not one was out of place.

  “Something amusing?”

  I shifted my gaze to see Brody staring at me, his arms crossed over his chest and a stupid smirk on his face. The fucker was sure as hell entertained for a man whose sister had popped her hit cherry on one of our sicarios.

  “Looks like the picks from the employment pool came from the shallow end since Eden left,” I said, nodding toward the bartender and turning my attention back to the waitress.

  She held a basket of chips and a mug of beer in her hands, her head bowed low so that her shoulder-length blonde hair dusted over her face. It brushed softly over her collarbone, glowing under the muted cantina lighting like silken wheat. All I could do was stare at her, willing her to lift her chin and turn around so I could pretend an insignificant waitress was her.

  She didn’t, and, of course, it wasn’t. It hadn’t been for years.

  I was a criminal trained to ignore emotion. However, a man couldn’t hide from the ghosts inside him, and the mind was a trapdoor just waiting to drop out from under his feet. For four years, every petite woman with hair like wheat and an angelic face sent me crashing into my own personal hell again.

  Because of her.

  My Star.

  “Where the hell is my beer?” I growled, my mood tanking.

  At that moment, the waitress turned around and our gazes locked. Warm, golden-brown eyes widened, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d wanted it so bad that I’d conjured her. However, the panic on her face said it all. I hardened my stare without moving. She swallowed, the hand holding the beer shaking as if her veins had been shot full of liquid ice.

  My pulse raced so hard, I felt like I’d run a marathon from Nuevo Laredo right into a brick wall. Her breathing hastened, and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Unfortunately, it happened to be the one holding my beer. The cantina went silent as thick glass shattered on the cement floor by her feet, suds and shards scattering all around her.

  Still, we stared, unable to break a connection, four years overdue.

  Brody snorted. “Well, not quite the introduction I was hoping for, but Mateo Cortes, meet my klutzy sister, Leighton Harcourt.”

  Leighton.

  Lies. All lies.

  I wanted to close my eyes and let it sink in how truly fucked I’d been, was, and now am, but I couldn’t. The underboss in me fought to stay in control and show no weakness. Especially not for her.

  “Well, Leighton Harcourt,” I said, keeping my voice flat, “you seem to have made somewhat of a mess.”

  Double meaning. Aimed and fired on purpose.

  Dropping the basket of chips still in her other hand, she reached for the ends of her hair, rolling them between her fingers. The move stirred something feral in me. Years melted away, and a waitressing uniform blended into an expensive yellow dress as bright as the sun. Her shoulder-length hair suddenly tumbled down her back in soft waves that felt forbidden to touch.

  Then it all disappeared when she let out a string of curses I’d never heard fall from her lips and turned to grab a rag. Bending down to clean up the mess, she blinked a few times as if banishing her own contaminated memories. “Shit, I’m sorry, Brody. I’ll clean this up.”

  I didn’t feel myself move from my chair, but I felt her stiffen the moment I knelt in front of her and took the rag from her hand. “Allow me.”

  Her body shook as my hand brushed hers. “It’s fine,” she said, jerking her arm back and diving for one of the larger pieces of glass. “I’ve got it.”

  “Do you? I’m not so sure you’ve handled much of anything.”

  My words made the muscles in her jaw tick. I enjoyed the sight until her face contorted and she let out a pained cry. She opened her clenched hand, and we both looked down at the small slice the shard of glass left on her palm. Blood seeped from the cut, dripping down her wrist and mixing with the beer still pooling on the floor.

  “Why is there always more blood?” she rasped.

  The phrase caught me off guard—the pain in her voice as she stared at her hand triggering an instinct in me. One that hadn’t been awakened in a long time.

  Keeping my eyes on her, I took her hand in mine and dragged the tip of my index finger through the blood in the center of her palm. Her breath hitched as she met my gaze. Everything around us disappeared, leaving only the collision of past and present sealed by blood. Blood that now coated my skin. Blood that I rubbed between my finger and thumb, staining a promise long broken by betrayal.

  It was impulsive and dangerous. I wanted to push her onto the rest of the glass, but I didn't know if it was to shove my tongue in her mouth and claim her or shove my gun in it and kill her. Both cravings developed from the same dark desire. The need to salvage control over the anarchy she caused.

  “Hey, are you okay, Lil’ Bit?” Our private moment shattered when Brody appeared between us, squatting down to inspect his sister’s injury.

  Flustered, Leighton jerked her hand away from me and stumbled to her feet. “It’s nothing,” she assured him, forcing a smile. “I’d better go get cleaned up—health code violations and all.”

  She couldn’t get away fast enough. Brody glared at me while s
liding back into his chair, but I never took my eyes off her until she disappeared into the back. As activity resumed in the cantina, I rose to my feet and calmly walked back to my seat. No need to lose control more than I already had.

  I’d barely reached for my napkin when Brody slammed his beer down, shaking the cheap table. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “What was what all about?” Lifting an eyebrow, I tried for a look somewhere between annoyed and impassive. What I got in return was a scowl that reminded me that Brody had learned well during his time with us.

  “I didn’t like the way you were looking at her,” he growled. “She’s already had to deal with being harassed by two cartels. I won’t allow another member of my own to do it too.”

  His brazen threats amused me. “Allow me? I outrank you.”

  Anger caused his cheeks to flush blood red. “I’m serious, Mateo. Don’t lay a hand on my sister. You have your choice of women to notch your bedpost. My family won’t be one of them.”

  Like he had a choice.

  “Oh, I won’t lay a hand on her. Trust me.”

  “So we’re clear then?”

  “Crystal.”

  He nodded, and his body relaxed into the flimsy wooden chair as if all had been resolved.

  Not even close.

  I pushed my own chair back, not bothering to hide my smirk. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Brody’s casual posture stiffened. “Where the hell are you going?”

  The dried blood flaked between the pads of my thumb and forefinger as I rubbed them together again. Funny how a past, long dead and buried had felt so alive when it trickled a warm path down my palm.

  Shifting a glance, I set my sights toward the hallway where she’d disappeared moments earlier. “Ghost hunting.”

  Chapter Seven

  Leighton

  “Calm down, Leighton. There’s no way that could be him.” Gripping the edge of the porcelain sink with my good hand, I leaned over it, dropped my chin to my chest, and tried to control my erratic breathing.