The Carrera Cartel : A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Cora Kenborn

A door slammed and an angry voice shouted behind him. “What the hell is this?”

  Emilio stiffened, his furious glare becoming submissive. “She was out of control.”

  “Get your hands off her. Now!” the man growled.

  Winking, Emilio released his hold and stood up. “Try to behave, Eden Lachey, and you might make it out of here.”

  As he walked away, I released the breath I’d held and sank to the floor.

  “Lachey? Your name is Lachey?”

  My head snapped up. With one glance, my breathing became erratic, and my thoughts went haywire. Chocolate brown eyes flecked with gold stared back at me. Taking in my bloodied wrist, his own hands tightened into fists by his side.

  “Val?” It made no sense, but the relief at seeing him outweighed my need for logic. He appeared as a contrast of darkened danger dressed in black slacks and an angelic white button-up shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

  His jaw ticked as he spoke slow and deadly. “What did he do to you?”

  I relived the last few moments and shook my head. “Nothing. I got angry.”

  “I saw him on top of you, Cereza.” He shifted forward, and his face hardened. “If he touched you…”

  “He didn’t,” I assured him.

  Val glanced toward the closed door then knelt next to me, crooking a finger and running it down my cheek. Inexplicably, I leaned into his touch. In the quiet moment, I almost forgot where I was and why. Without thinking, my free hand grabbed his and held it steady against my face.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  “Cereza…”

  “Listen to me. You don’t understand.” My voice rose, distraught at his calmness. “I was drugged and brought here against my will. Emilio, that man that was here,” I pointed toward the closed door, “he’s my boss. He helped kill my brother. I was there.” The words fell out at rapid succession, desperate for his help. “I don’t know everything, but I think I heard the name Carrera. I know they’re a drug cartel. My brother isn’t an addict, Val. They fucked up, but I think I’ve got enough to go to the police.”

  “Cereza…” He lowered his head with a blank expression.

  “Stop saying that and listen,” I yelled, frantic and growing hysterical. “We have to get out of here. You have to find a key. We’re not safe.”

  He remained quiet, pulling his hand away, with a tormented mask painted across his face. I could see his mind working, but mine refused to piece the unconnected puzzle together. His brows furrowed, and the deep line that etched between them severed my hope.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you go.”

  I splayed my hands against the cold metal of the bed. “Why…why can’t you? I don’t understand.” He had to be here to help me, but there was an uncertain air around him I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “You’re a danger to me and to yourself.” Val rocked back on his heels, running a tanned hand across his full lips. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten into, and because of that, I can’t trust you.”

  I’m a danger to him? To him?

  Just as quickly as the fear had come, it exited, replaced by fury and understanding. “You can’t trust me?” I clenched my hand and pressed it against my forehead. “Who’s chained like a dog, here?”

  Val’s eyes hardened, and I waited for rage to follow. Instead, his lip twitched, lifting into a one-sided smirk. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

  “Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” I sneered, narrowing my eyes.

  “That mouth, Cereza…it’s going to get you into trouble one day.” Reaching for the buttons on his shirt, he opened them one by one. My eyes watched, fascinated, as he removed the shirt, revealing smooth bronzed skin covering a hard, toned chest marked with more tattoos.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I wet my dry lips, unable to look away.

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Cleaning your arm and stopping the bleeding before infection sets in. I assume you value your limbs.”

  “I highly doubt your shirt will stop gangrene.”

  Trailing his hand across my bloodstained skin, he scowled. “It may scar, but it won’t be too deep.” He finished cleaning the fresh blood and wrapped the shirt around the wound, tying it off. “How do you feel?”

  “How do you think? I’ve been drugged, dragged, dropped, and sliced up. I fucking hurt.”

  Val ran his hand through his tousled hair, and his face turned an angry red color at my contempt. “I can’t give you anything for the pain until the drugs Emilio injected are out of your system.” He glanced at me with a glint in his eyes. “That may be a while longer.”

  The world spun around as betrayal thickened the air. Stunned, I looked deep into his eyes for the first time, seeing what his handsome face and sexuality blinded from me since the beginning.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Jesus, you’re one of them.” Pushing away from him, horror filled my vision at the bare-chested god of a monster crouched in front of me.

  “Don’t be so self-righteous,” he whispered, leaning forward and boxing me against the bed once more. “I saved your ass.”

  “What did you give me?” I cringed, turning my chin away from his penetrating gaze.

  “A little M99 combined with sedatives and opioids to counteract the side effects with some diprenorphine afterward to ensure you actually woke up.”

  I cut my eyes at him. “How very serial killer of you. Dexter fan, are we?”

  “You’re very mouthy for a half-naked woman cuffed to a bed.”

  “How the hell did you even get that drug? So, you’re a criminal and a practicing vet?”

  “Ah, Cereza, I do love that mouth, but at this point, I’d suggest you shut it before you cross a line you don’t want to.” The gold flakes in his blackened eyes glittered with an underlying ruthlessness I’d yet to see.

  I jerked on the cuff. “Fuck you.”

  He smiled a wicked grin that lit my skin on fire, infuriating me at my body’s duplicity against my mind. “Not today. But if you cooperate and beg just the right way, who knows what might happen?”

  Every stream of blood in my body pooled south at his seductive words. I closed my eyes, summoning images I’d forced in the dark. “I could never want you.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What do you want, Cereza?”

  “I want my brother back, you son of a bitch.”

  His lips twitched. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it was out regret. But if the last half hour taught me anything, it was that nothing was as it seemed. People I thought were friends were enemies, and no one could be trusted. I was alone to save myself.

  Without thinking, my hand flew to my chest and rubbed the St. Michael medallion. My father raised us Roman Catholic, but other than the required holiday mass and forced attended service, I’d never bought into religion. Maybe my mother walking out right after my birth had something to do with my issues with her god.

  However, sitting in the small, dark room, I found myself repeatedly touching the symbol of the religion I’d turned my back on, hoping the courage and protection my father promised it’d bring would save me.

  Something had to.

  Val watched me with curious eyes. Leaning closer, he raised a hand to my face. Instinctively, I flinched, convinced a blow to my cheek was coming for my insolence. Gently, his thumb traced a wetness trailing from the corner of my eye down the side of my hairline.

  I hadn’t realized I was crying.

  I’d promised myself I’d stay strong for Nash. Vengeance would be my comfort until I saw his killers suffer. My failure caused more tears to fall. Val’s eyes softened, and before I could stop him, he tilted his mouth and pressed his damp lips where his thumb had been.

  A shudder tore through me as his lips caressed my cheek, then as quickly as they warmed my skin, they were gone. He stood silently and walked toward the door. Mesmerized at the grace of a man who had evil running through his veins, my pulse sped up as I focused on his d
efined back. The most magnificent and nauseating tattoo spanned the entire width of his back from shoulder to shoulder and the length from his neck to his lower back. Numbers, dead flowers, swords, a demonic-looking bird, along with a lot of Spanish I’d never understand swirled in bright colors and harsh black lines. Without asking, I knew none of it got there on a drunken whim, each needle purposeful and full of meaning. Part of me wanted to know, and the other was afraid to hear the answer.

  Disgust for my lustful thoughts consumed me. How could the man responsible for the torture and murder of the one person who’d protected me my whole life, elicit such a reaction?

  Nash had barely been gone twenty-four hours, and I’d already been disloyal to his memory. With my free hand, I untied his blood-soaked shirt off my cuffed wrist and balled it up.

  “Hey, Danger…”

  Paused at the door, Val glanced over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. I threw the shirt, hitting him in the face.

  “Just so you know, I’m getting out of here with or without you.”

  Fisting the shirt, his nostrils flared as he unlocked the door with a key from his pocket and slammed it behind him. I slumped against the bedframe as the lock reengaged.

  My head pounded in pain. My skin still bled. My body shivered with cold. My stomach growled with hunger, and my heart ached with sorrow. The stark reality that this was bigger than what I initially thought sobered me.

  My revenge had become a suicide mission. I’d avenge Nash’s death, but I wouldn’t make it out of this alive as the captive of a drug cartel. I’d keep my promise to avenge my brother’s death with my own.

  Even if I was attracted to the one man I should hate more than anyone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eden

  I woke up shivering, but it wasn’t from the damp air. I’d fallen asleep on the floor, leaned against the bed with my cuffed wrist behind my head. How much time had passed since Val left? I had no idea, but my fingers were numb from the unnatural angle of my hand, and my lips cracked with dehydration.

  I didn’t expect him to walk out on me, although I kept myself under no illusion that he’d let me go. I wasn’t stupid. The man I thought could be my savior was one of my captors. I just didn’t know how he ranked in the hierarchy.

  Still, I thought maybe he’d turn around when I threw his shirt and at least give me some form of common comfort.

  A real room. Fresh clothes. Another caress of his hand.

  His touch had been the only thing in the past twenty-four hours that remotely came close to easing the ache where my heart used to be. The thought totally mind fucked me, because his hand had a part in its removal in the first place.

  Every time I thought of being in the cantina, I felt sick, so I forced myself to concentrate on pumping life back into my cold and pale skin. Wiggling my fingers, pins and needles shot through my arm, and I winced at the sensation. I’d never been so uncomfortable in my life as I sat upright, my stiff body screaming in protest. A quick glance at my wrist confirmed that the bleeding had stopped, so at least I knew I wouldn’t die of blood loss.

  Small favors.

  The sound of keys rattling in the door pulled my attention away, and I balled myself up, not sure who’d be walking into the room. Out of the two, I’d prefer Val over Emilio. The dynamics of my relationship with my boss had been forever altered. Besides that, he seemed more of a loose cannon.

  I held my breath until the door creaked open, and a young man about my age with a strong muscular build and shoulder-length, dark hair slipped through carrying a plastic tray. He eyed me curiously but glanced away once our eyes met.

  “Boss says you need to eat,” he said, placing the tray in front of me.

  I ground my teeth and turned away from him. “I’m not hungry.”

  That was a lie. I was starving. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.

  He ignored me and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’d eat, if I were you. You don’t want to piss him off.”

  I shifted a glare toward him. “Who is ‘him’? Emilio? Val? Some other Carrera man hiding in this house who’s yet to make sure I’m being a good prisoner? Tell me.”

  His fingers tightened in his pockets, and he paused a moment before answering. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “There’s not much to get. Chains. Blood. Inhumanity. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”

  “What?” His handsome face contorted in disgust. “No. You should be thankful he didn’t leave you to those assholes. You’d definitely get a taste of inhumanity then.”

  I pulled on my cuffed wrist for emphasis. “Gee, thanks.”

  Shaking his head, he walked the few steps remaining from the door to the bed and arranged the plastic cup of water next to the tray.

  No glass.

  Smart.

  I watched carefully as his gaze shifted to my wrist, the lines in his forehead deepening. Something in this man struck me as more rational than the other two. He seemed more human and more easily manipulated.

  “Do you have a name, or do I just call you my personal chef?”

  He chuckled and scratched his temple with his index finger. “Boss said you were a handful. Nice try, but your trick isn’t going to work, lady.”

  “No tricks. And my name is Eden. Do you have one?”

  “I don’t need to throw tricks. I’m not the one cuffed to a bed.” He grinned, his smile fully amused at my expense.

  “Nice.” Turning inward, I closed my eyes and waited for him to leave. Moments passed with only silence in the room.

  “Mateo.”

  Popping an eye back open, I stared at him. He still stood in the same spot regarding me curiously, with a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. I had no idea why he hadn’t walked out, but I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Mateo,” he repeated. “My name? You asked my name.”

  “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  I waited for him to say more, but his lips pressed in a tight line. Obviously, Mateo had no intention of extending our conversation or providing me with any more answers. However, sitting in one place for so long had restricted blood flow, and my legs were killing me. Beyond that, basic human function had taken over, and a full bladder took precedence over stubbornness. I’d be damned if I’d beg Emilio or Val for anything, but for some reason, it didn’t wound my pride so much to ask Mateo.

  “I don’t suppose you have a key on you anywhere?” I asked, tugging on my wrist restraint.

  He narrowed a hard stare in suspicion. “Why?”

  “Nature, Mateo. I need to go to the little prisoner’s room.”

  Totally petty, but warranted.

  “I don’t know…” His gaze bounced back and forth between sympathy and distrust.

  Wise man.

  “C’mon, dude,” I whined. “Unless you want to mop up piss, I suggest you let me go. I know there’s one in that room.” I motioned toward a closed door adjoining the room.

  Mateo twisted his face in horror. “Fine. Just don’t piss on the floor, for Christ’s sake.”

  Hurriedly, he fished in his pocket and produced a silver key that hung around a black key ring. I held my breath as he took hold of my wrist in one hand and unlocked the cuff with the other. The moment my arm was freed, I jerked it to my chest, rubbing it to force circulation back into my fingers. We stared at each other like squirrels crossing a highway, both of us unsure of which direction to turn or what move to make.

  Finally, I cleared my throat and pushed myself up on my knees, nodding toward the closed door. “Is that it?”

  He followed my gaze and pursed his lips. Taking the opportunity, I pushed off my knees and sat on the bed, stretching my legs. Pain from sitting in the cramped position radiated down my back, and I winced. I must’ve whimpered, because his eyes shot back to me as I leaned backward and fully extended with my a
rms behind me.

  “What’re you doing?”

  I lifted a brow. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m stretching like a normal human being instead of a caged animal.” I nodded toward the bathroom again and repeated. “Is that it?”

  My sarcasm seemed to throw him. “What? Oh, yeah…yeah. Go ahead, I’ll wait.”

  “Super…a chaperone.” Rolling my eyes again, I stood and walked toward the door.

  “Eden?”

  I glanced over my shoulder with a bored look, determined not to lose the ground I’d gained. “What?”

  “Not too long or we’ll take the door down.”

  Pausing at the bathroom door, I glared before slamming it shut. Once inside, I blew out a long breath and walked to the sink. Holding on to the edges with both hands, I lowered my head. Lack of sleep, an empty stomach, and the lingering effects of drugs in my system left me weak, but I couldn’t let it show. Licking my lips, I drew air in until my lungs filled and raised my head until my reflection stared back at me in the mirror. Familiar blue eyes were hollow and no longer held emotion that wasn’t found in a lower circle of hell.

  A slow, purposeful smile made its way across my lips as I reached behind my back, and underneath my tank top. Pulling out a long silver fork from the inside my shorts, I held it out in front of me and watched the fluorescent light flicker off the prongs.

  I wondered how they’d feel piercing flesh.

  After using the bathroom, I shoved it back into my pants, covered it with the hem of my tank top and flushed the toilet for emphasis. Washing my hands, and running them through my matted hair, I turned toward the door.

  Show time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Valentin

  “Goddamn it!” My fist pounded into the cheap door as my foot kicked it from the bottom. She infuriated the hell out of me. I didn’t have to coddle her. I could leave her in there to rot or shove warm, day-old water and crusty bread at her until she choked.

  Leaving her for the crew would’ve been easier. It’d been risky to show my face to her. I should’ve just left the logistics to Emilio like he wanted, but for some reason, I wanted to see for myself that she was all right.