by Cora Kenborn
Recognition fueled me. “Was there a message?”
He nodded fiercely. “Carved into his chest. El Muerte.”
I vibrated with anger and pushed past him. Scaring my secretary was one thing. Brewing a war by interfering in my business was on a whole other level of uncharted territory. I wouldn’t sit by and wait for another message from the Muñoz Cartel. I’d almost stepped over the threshold when Emilio’s bloodstained hand stopped me.
“Let go,” I demanded.
“Boss, my bartender is an innocent. When I went back out, her car was gone. If they have her, you know what will happen.”
I knew all too well what happened to innocents who’d seen too much.
“Name?” I had no time for conversation.
“Eden,” he sighed. “Eden O’Dell.”
Whether driven by lust, fear, or revenge, my body stiffened and my blood boiled as I made the connection. I had no idea why, but I just knew.
Cereza.
Chapter Eleven
Eden
After stopping three times to throw up, the car barely stopped moving before I threw it into park and tore out of the driver’s side, almost taking the door off its hinges. Blood roared in my ears, and I knew a momentary break in my stride would snap the control I held onto by a thread.
Climbing the stairs to the front porch of my childhood home, I opened the glass door and pounded on the huge paneled door with my fist.
Nothing.
I pounded harder, each slam of my skin against the wood timed with the slam of my heart against the wall of my chest.
Still nothing.
“Dad, open the door. I know you’re in there!”
The night replayed in my head as if looped on an eight-millimeter film. “Dad!” I screamed, the adrenaline starting to fade, and reality setting in. “Open the damn door!”
A slight movement inside caught my attention. Desperation took hold, and a cry gurgled out as I pounded one last time with my hand flat against the door. “Dad,” I pleaded, my voice breaking as I fought to breathe. “It’s Nash. He’s...God, Dad…” I couldn’t say the words. Saying them aloud made them real.
Slowly the door creaked open, and I stumbled to regain my footing. My father stood in sweatpants and a t-shirt, unshaven and unkempt, his graying beard overtaking his round face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were rimmed red, with dark circles smudging the skin underneath them.
“What’s wrong with your brother?” he asked, moving aside and motioning me in. “Eden, what are you doing here so early?”
The minute I stepped inside my father’s house, the air changed. Tension filled the room, and apprehension practically vibrated off him. Sticking his head out of the door, he quickly glanced around before shutting it and twisting two locks and a deadbolt.
I rubbed my chest, trying to relieve the suffocation that had built since running from the cantina. I leaned against the kitchen table, taking weight off my shaking legs.
“You’re drenched,” he commented, inching toward me. “Eden?” Almost hesitantly he reached for my arm, wiping off the smattering of rain that still clung to me like a second skin.
Flinching, I ran my hands down my face and stared at him as Nash’s words flashed through my head.
“Cherry, I don’t do drugs. They got the wrong guy. I swear.”
“Then what’s this all about, Nash?”
“Dad.”
As a tear escaped, I let out a slow breath. “What’s going on, Dad?”
He gave me a chagrined glance before turning his eyes away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His face told me everything. My father was a shitty liar. Me? I was a pro. I’d crafted evasion into an art form, but my father couldn’t look anyone in the eye and lie.
That’s how I knew.
Catapulting myself off the table, I grabbed handfuls of his t-shirt and screamed in his face—all the anger, fear, and anguish inside of me releasing at once. “You’re lying! Goddamn it, Dad. Do you want to know what happened to Nash tonight?” I released my hold on his shirt and twisted around to show him my back. “This is what happened tonight. This is Nash’s blood.”
I turned back around in time to see him pale, and his chin quiver. “God, is…is he okay?”
“No, he’s not okay!” I bellowed, my body shaking violently. “He’s dead! Drug runners shot him in the head!” Hysterical, tremors in my voice became audible as every word I spoke felt like acid on my tongue.
It was real. My brother was gone. The only constant in my life.
Dad stumbled backward, his eyes filling with unshed tears as his knees buckled. Running one hand across his mouth repeatedly, he pulled at his wayward hair with the other. “Jesus. It doesn’t make sense. Nash had nothing to do with…” A mask of clarity blanketed his face. “Oh, Jesus.”
His words took root in my head and exploded. One second later, I was on him. My father had a good eight inches on me, but grief rendered me unstoppable.
“Nash had nothing to do with what, Dad? What the fuck are you into that Nash got mixed up in, huh? Those men said something about Lachey owing money for cocaine. Why would…” My words trailed off as a closed suitcase and duffle bag perched on the couch caught my eye. Spinning back around, I wiped tears with the back of my hand and pointed to it. “What the hell is that? Going somewhere?”
He lowered his head, blinking back emotion as he walked past me. Wrapping his shaking fingers around the handle of the suitcase, he dragged it over the top of the couch. “My life is over, Eden,” he said, hugging it to his chest. “Everything’s over.”
“Fuck this,” I muttered. He could spout his philosophical bullshit all he wanted. I’d had enough. My brother deserved more. If nobody else gave a damn, I’d call someone who would. Reaching into my purse, I grabbed my phone and started dialing.
“Who are you calling?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m calling Brody. I care about catching the sons of bitches who murdered your son, even if you—hey, what the hell?” He snatched the phone out of my hands, staring at me as if I’d said I was calling the moon.
“Are you crazy?” he shouted, dropping it in his pocket. “We’ll both be dead before you end the call.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? And answer my question.”
“I’m a shamed, broken man,” he replied, looking to the side as if an invisible vision of the past had appeared. “May God have mercy on my soul, but I have to leave.”
“You do that,” I hissed, clenching my arms by my side so I wouldn’t take a swing at him. “You run like a little bitch while your son lays on a cold kitchen floor. Go hide, but I won’t. I watched my brother die, and I’ll take my last breath getting justice for him.”
“Don’t be stupid, Eden.”
I felt his impatience but refused to budge. “I’m going after them. Every one of them will pay.” My body shook as anger tore through me. Vengeance replaced the last traces of my humanity. “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I can’t go back to my same life after what I saw. That life is gone. It died with Nash. I’ll live revenge, breathe it, and crave it until it’s served.”
We stared at each other, each of us unrelenting in our resolution.
Dejected, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver necklace. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath and extended his hand, holding it by the chain. “Here. Take this.”
“What is that?” I blinked furiously, trying to rid my eyes of falling tears.
“Take it,” he repeated with finality, nodding once.
I couldn’t explain why, but I took the medallion out of his hand and squeezed it. The rough metal and smooth porcelain contrasted starkly in the dim light.
Studying the face, I glanced up quizzically. “St. Michael?”
He dipped his chin. “The Archangel. The guardian of souls who triumphed over hell. He was a spiritual warrior in the conflict against evil.”
Earlier i
mages flashed in horrific sequence. “It’s a little late for a triumph over hell, Dad. I’m in it.”
Taking it from my hand, he draped it over my neck, and the chill of metal rested against my chest. “Never take this off, Edie. You’re a warrior, and so much stronger than your old man. You can win this war, but you have to be smart and vigilant at all times.” Finally looking at me, he stared at my face as if he were trying to imprint it into his mind. “Save yourself, Eden. Don’t get involved with that man. They’re watching you.”
My brows creased. “What man? Who are you talking about? Stop talking in riddles!”
Without another word, my father grabbed his suitcase, kissed my forehead and headed out the back door. My feet felt planted in concrete. Even as my brain commanded them to move, I stood rooted to my spot, watching him as he closed the door and walked out of my life.
Fuck him.
I’d spent most of my adult life on my own. Today would be no different. My face had been the last thing Nash had seen. I knew he saw the promise in my eyes. I wouldn’t fail him.
Dropping the medallion from my hand, it landed with a thud against my chest. I never looked back as I stormed off the front porch, waking up the sleeping neighborhood. Children would be waking for breakfast in a few hours, and normal families would be making their way to church.
And I’d be plotting my next move.
With my keys firmly planted in my hand, I stomped to the driver’s side of my car. I’d just moved my thumb to press the button on the keyless entry when a rough hand snaked around my cheek and covered my mouth. Shocked, I tried to scream, but the pressure on my lips stifled any sound.
A familiar voice, muffled by my own jerky movements, hovered over my ear. “Stop fighting and it’ll be over soon.”
The words seeped into my mind, and my heart pounded.
It’ll be over soon.
I’d stayed here too long. They’d found me.
I had to make noise. I had to scream. The neighbors had to wake up. They’d come outside to investigate if they could just hear me. Inhaling hard, I mustered what little voice I could get out and squeaked a pathetic plea for help.
The gravelly voice behind me slithered in my ear once more. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll do what I have to.”
His overbearing weight lifted me off my feet, and I caught a strong metallic scent as he held me against him.
Blood.
My stomach roiled at the all too recognizable stench as I struggled harder, throwing elbows and trying to use my feet and legs to kick him. I’d almost gotten leverage when a sharp sting in my neck sent a seeping warmth through my skin and a thick haze across my vision. The world swam and a black cloud overtook the morning light until nothing remained but hollow silence and a cold darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Eden
The room smelled of mildew and damp rain. I blinked to focus in the darkness, but even squinting, I couldn’t make out the form sitting in front of me. Confusion set in as I tried to replay the events that led me to this dank hole, but my mind blanked. A fuzzy film coated my memory, prohibiting clarity.
“Don’t be scared, Cherry.”
My heart slammed against my chest. “Nash?” I couldn’t remember why it hurt to hear his voice, but the slow cadence of his words tore a jagged hole in my heart. “Where are we? Why can’t I see you?”
A low rumble of laughter filled the room. “You’re feeling better. Already with the rapid-fire questions, I see.”
I rubbed my neck where a stinging burned my skin. “What happened?”
“This isn’t your fight, Cherry. You’re going to get hurt. There’s no game here. It’s real.”
Frustrated, I tried to move, but my limbs felt stuck in quicksand. “Why can’t I see you?”
“Listen to me,” he instructed with a serious voice. “There’s two sides to everything, and the key is in the middle. The guard will be your downfall.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I love you. Be strong and keep your eyes open.”
His words finally broke through my muddled brain. “No! Don’t leave me!”
Now barely a mist, his voice echoed in my ears over and over. “Wake up, Eden.”
“Don’t go!” Throwing myself forward, I landed on the hard, concrete floor, busting my lip and tasting blood.
His voice continued to echo in the small room.
Wake up, Eden.
Wake up, Eden.
“Wake up, Eden.”
My head turned as my brother’s voice took on a distinct Latino accent. “Wake up, Eden.”
Worlds collided as the voice became louder. More blood filled my mouth, and I gagged as I swallowed it to breathe.
“Wake the fuck up, Eden.”
Brightness burned my eyes the minute they cracked open. My body felt heavy as if I’d been asleep for days. Focusing on the voice, I turned my cheek from the hard floor toward his face, fighting the urge to fade back into darkness. His form seemed familiar as he crouched down beside me. I realized I was lying on the floor, but my arm ached beyond reason. One shift of my eyes, and I knew why.
My left wrist was handcuffed to the base of a rusty iron bed.
Suddenly wide awake, I frantically jerked on my restraints while fear crept inside of my panicked thoughts. My bare heels scraped the cold concrete as I pushed away from him, crowding against the white sheets hanging off the side of the bed.
“Welcome back, Eden. You’ve been out since yesterday. You were starting to worry me.”
My name. He kept calling me by name. I closed my eyes, recalling a memory from outside my father’s house.
Someone said my name beside my car.
With blurred eyes, my lips cracked as I fought for my voice. “What…” I cleared my throat, my tone hoarse and rough. “What am I doing here? What do you want?”
The man’s outline moved closer. Crouching down, he reached out a finger and wiped it across my chin. I drew back, stiffening for a blow that never came.
“Relax,” he said, wiping dark liquid from his hand onto his jeans. “You busted your lip when you fell. I told you if you calm down, we won’t hurt you.”
My body may have been restrained, but my antagonistic nature couldn’t be. “Well, if you uncuff me, we’ll be sure both of those things will happen, won’t we?”
Dark eyes blazed with annoyance and mild respect. “You’re one of a kind, Eden O’Dell.”
I stiffened. “What did you just call me?”
Only one man called me by my married name.
He sighed heavily, and my vision finally cleared, adjusting to the dim light silhouetting his face. My head pounded, and dozens of spots plastered my vision. The fear that should have had me cowering under the bed hid behind an avalanche of rage and launched my body forward. Within inches of his chest, my wrist restraint jerked me backward and I banged my head against the iron railing of the bed.
Trapped, I let out a primal scream, yanking on my restraint again. “Murderer!” Nash’s vacant eyes filled my head, and I shook it violently, desperate to rid it of the image.
“Whoa, cálmete!” he bellowed, raising a hand. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Fuck you!” I spat, throwing myself at him again. The cuff dug into my wrist, and I winced as it sliced my skin. Pain shot down my arm, but with adrenaline pumping, it only fueled my anger. “I saw you! I watched you cut my brother’s fingers off. You walked out and sent those bastards in to finish him.”
I continued battling against the restraint, blood pouring down my arm. My boss, the man I trusted completely, lifted off his heels and grabbed me by the shoulders, pinning me against the bedframe.
“Would you calm the hell down?” Emilio moved one arm and braced it horizontally against my upper chest while holding my wrist immobile with the other. “I didn’t kill anyone. And what the hell are you talking about? Who’s your brother?”
Unable to m
ove and weakened with fading energy, my head wobbled on my shoulders as I lowered my forehead against his. “Nash Lachey, you asshole.”
His face blanched. “Your name is O’Dell.”
“You’re a shitty businessman, Emilio,” I taunted. “Do you always take everything at face value?”
The lines around his mouth deepened as his eyes narrowed inches from mine. His body leaned forward while his hold on my wrist tightened. I could see the confusion melt into irritation.
A wise woman would shut her mouth. I’d never been particularly wise.
“O’Dell was my married name. My name is Lachey. I was in the kitchen at Caliente.” A dark glaze blackened his already coal eyes. “I saw everything.”
The confession wasn’t smart by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it gave him every reason to kill me right there. I braced for it. I expected it.
But I’d never back down from it.
Nash left this world protecting me, and I’d be damned if I’d beg his tormentor for anything.
“I could’ve left you there.”
I pulled on my bleeding arm again. “Because this is so much fucking better!”
Angered, he shook me, my head slamming against the bedrail. “You have no idea what was coming for you, do you, Eden Lachey?” He said my name with such contempt, I instinctively recoiled. “Being cuffed to a bed is a goddamn vacation compared to what waited behind me.”
Emilio’s anger overtook him. He’d all but climbed on top of me, pushing his face against mine, and barking words with disgust as sweat dripped from his chin onto my blood-caked skin. My chest heaved with terror, but only my widened eyes displayed any emotion to his aggression. His hand released my wrist and fisted the back of my hair, lifting my face. Warm breath faintly reeking of alcohol filled my nostrils.
The threat of being killed spurred venom inside of me. Fear sat back and let vengeance ride shotgun. I twisted, desperate to get away from him, but his hold tightened.
