The Carrera Cartel : A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Cora Kenborn

  My cheek bounced as his chest rumbled with low laughter. “Cereza, that mouth of yours, sometimes I wonder if…” He trailed off as if he’d spoken out of turn, his voice abruptly shutting down.

  Lifting my head, I balanced my chin on his breastbone, staring into conflicted pools of molten chocolate. “Something wrong?”

  Shaking his head, he sat up and leaned over the bed, fumbling with the few clothes we’d discarded in the adjoining bathroom. Watching the intricate movement of his body as he twisted, and the way each defined muscle in his back contracted and tightened with the reaction of another, my skin flushed with rising heat. Sitting up, I tugged the sheet up to my neck and held it with a death grip.

  My emotions swung on a pendulum, one minute screaming for his touch, the next, petrified and ashamed because I wanted it. No sane woman would willingly crawl in bed with a criminal. A confessed murderer. A drug trafficker. A man capable of unspeakable things.

  “Hey,” Val ran a rough hand across my jaw and settled at the back of my neck. “Where’d you go?”

  “Huh?”

  “You spaced out there for a minute.”

  Val and I were explosive. Unable to keep our hands off each other, when we joined forces, the moment was enough to shake the foundation of anyone’s psyche. Which is exactly why I had to get away from him. I promised myself I’d never blindly fall for another man, and I was falling hard for Val Carrera.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him with a half-hearted smile. “Just tired.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie.

  I watched as he settled back into bed, immediately wrapping his arms back around me in a protective hold. The instant feeling of security confused me, but I pushed it aside and focused on his tightly clenched fist.

  “What’s that?”

  A slow grin spread across his face. It was the same devastating grin I’d watched for every time he’d walk into the cantina and sat at the far barstool on the left corner. “Protection.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pushed away from his hold. “Again? Jesus, Danger…are you part machine?”

  His eyes crinkled as a low chuckle rose to full-chested laughter. Grabbing me around the waist, I barely had time to think before he had me on my back, pinned underneath him as his knees rested on the outside of my thighs. With one palm pressed into the mattress by my head, he held his fisted hand high above my forehead.

  “Not that kind of protection, Cereza.” A flicker of something I couldn’t put my finger on crossed his eyes. As I looked into them I knew they’d seen more destruction than entire cities combined. The cords in his neck tightened as he opened his hand, and a long chain dropped from his palm, the rounded base swinging above my nose. “This kind.”

  I recognized it immediately.

  “Oh, my God, that’s my…?”

  “I can’t explain it, either. Every man near that stash house is dead. The building is gone and my car is a pile of ash, but somehow, I walked away from it all. Moments before the blast, I pulled this out of my pocket by accident, and I remembered what you said about it protecting me.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he stared at the St. Michael medallion intently. “I’m not a religious man, Cereza, but stupid as it sounds, something told me to put it on. Now, whether that something was my own paranoia, you inside my head, or this fictitious god I keep hearing about…I don’t know. All I do know is I’m here with you, and those other men’s families are burying what’s left of them.”

  His confession grounded me. I couldn’t speak as I stared at the medallion, swinging from his crooked finger. Was it a sign? Did I even believe in signs anymore? What the hell did I believe?

  “You made it back because you’re indestructible, Val Carrera.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a private thought, meant only for him. “I made it back because I had someone to come back for, Eden Lachey.”

  His tenderness threw me. I wanted his anger as an escape and to prove to myself what we were doing was a temporary product of my confinement and grief. But as he whispered my name, I found my fingers sliding up the length of his arm, twining around the chain still dangling from his hand.

  Val’s eyes shifted, watching with a strange fascination. In a surprise move, he entwined our fingers, as the medallion enclosed tightly in between our palms. Lowering his body, he stared at my mouth a moment or two before brushing his lips against one corner, then to the other. With his chest against mine, I felt his heart pound with either anticipation or fear.

  I understood both.

  With an unhurried calmness I’d never seen from Val, he cradled my cheek in his palm and delivered a slow, powerful kiss, exploring as he tasted, caressing as he licked.

  No frenzy. No blinding need.

  As his lips traced the shell of my outer ear, my mind raced, confused at this ruthless killer who held me as if I were the most breakable piece of priceless china in the world.

  “What did you say before?”

  Pausing, a hot wave of his breath filled my ear. “Before?”

  I nodded. “In the bathroom…when I, uh…well, you said it in Spanish.” I had no idea what the hell I was saying. Random words short-circuited from my brain to my mouth, attempting to reconcile the shift in his behavior.

  His fingers tightened around mine. “Quiero hacerte el amor lentamente. It means I want to make love to you slowly.”

  With five words in a language I didn’t understand, I let go. “Then do it.”

  I’d never been touched as gently and reverently in my life. Val took his time, kissing any and everything, making sure nothing felt rushed or impatient. He did exactly as he wanted. He made love to me slowly. Purposely. Passionately. Intensely.

  He held me through our combined cries, his arms woven around me long after sleep claimed him. But sleep hadn’t come for me and wouldn’t for a long time. As we lay wrapped around each other, I realized with stark clarity, at that moment, Val Carrera was the most vulnerable he’d been since the moment I awoke, cuffed to a metal bed.

  There couldn’t have been a more perfect opportunity to escape to my long-desired freedom. I wasn’t restrained. The door wasn’t chained. Get dressed and leave—it was that simple.

  But it wasn’t that simple. Because for all that had broken in me since walking into Caliente, I didn’t want to.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I silently cursed myself for becoming entangled with a man I had no intention of leaving.

  Chapter Twenty

  Valentin

  The whole morning Eden and I kept our distance as we packed up what little we’d brought with us. A few stolen glances were all we allowed ourselves as my men cleared out any trace of our presence the past few days.

  As a residence, the place was a piece of shit, but I’d be lying if I said leaving it didn’t give me mixed feelings. It was the place I’d brought Eden to as a prisoner and was leaving as a willing companion.

  I still had a hard time processing the thought or even beginning to rationalize it.

  She had every opportunity to leave in the middle of the night. I awoke this morning, half-expecting to find the bed empty beside me. It didn’t take but a moment to feel her warm skin still pressed against me, resting peacefully. Well, as peaceful as one could be after all I’d put her through.

  “Is that everything?” Tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans, Mateo glanced from me to Eden, his eyes questioning but silent.

  Smart man.

  “Yeah, we didn’t bring much,” I answered, scratching the back of my head.

  Eden snorted in front of me. “I didn’t bring anything, warden.”

  Surprised at her outburst, I shot her a look across the room, ready for a fight, only to be rewarded with a secretive wink.

  Well played, Cereza.

  After the stash house explosion, Mateo thought it best not to remain in one place for too long. I couldn’t have agreed more. In this stationary target, we were sitting ducks, weakened by the four walls surrounding us. I was t
he boss of an entire stateside cartel, but up until now, I’d only given a shit about my own life. My own personal creed involved one simple rule—keeping my ass away from the wrong end of a gun.

  In eleven days, my creed had been twisted beyond recognition.

  Ushering us outside, Mateo climbed into the front seat of the black SUV. Two men followed suit and the rest dispersed into other vehicles as decoys, in case of an ambush. I made sure not to touch Eden unnecessarily, lightly pressing my fingers onto her shoulder as I guided her into the backseat.

  I swallowed hard as she bent over. Her ass, now covered in the tiny white shorts I had one of Mateo’s men borrow from his wife, pressed close to my face. The tight blue half shirt did nothing to calm my raging hard-on, growing by the second.

  I’d asked for some decent clothes for her to wear. He brought me indecent with a side of torture.

  I felt like a presidential caravan hauling ass down a highway toward nowhere. To the casual onlooker, we were nothing, but to me we were a glaring eyesore—a Muñoz flare just begging to be fucked with. I had a bad feeling about the entire operation.

  Mumbles from the front carried to the back, as I heard Mateo and Emilio exchanging a play by play of their communication with the other SUVs. I watched their eyes shift back and forth to each other, their hands intermittently wiping a brow or gripping the wheel and dashboard.

  Instinct had me glancing at Eden. After exchanging the same apprehensive stares, she folded her legs onto the seat and slipped her hand in mine behind her bent knees, shielding the small show of affection from view. Wisely, she kept her mouth shut. After only eleven days, she’d learned quickly the three basic rules governing our cartel: hold your tongue, never let anyone see what you stand to lose, and fear is a useless emotion.

  Out of instinct, I touched the medallion, still hanging around my neck. It lay hidden underneath my white button-up shirt and jacket. If my men saw it, I’d be done for, but something wouldn’t allow me to take it off.

  She’d given it to me, and as much as I’d never understood religion, I felt peace wearing it. Maybe it stemmed from it belonging to the woman sitting beside me, or maybe it truly had some mystical power I couldn’t understand. Regardless, I’d put it on this morning the minute Eden and I got out of the shower.

  The moment I touched the smooth porcelain face, I felt it.

  I felt it, and Eden whispered it, breaking rule number one of my cartel code.

  “Something isn’t right.”

  Looking away wasn’t an option when her eyes held such dreaded anticipation. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Something isn’t right,” she repeated, tucking a strand of her shocking candy-red hair behind her ear. “Val, can’t you feel it? Look at them.” She slightly lifted our joined hands toward the front of the SUV, pointing to my men who were locked in deep discussion.

  Breaking from her worried blue eyes, I shifted my gaze toward Mateo and Emilio, sharing phone screens, deep lines marring their foreheads. I’d never confirm her suspicions, but the same worry ran through my blood the moment we left the safe house.

  However, I was the boss of this damn cartel, and I deserved answers.

  “Enough with the whispering bullshit!” I shouted, my blood pressure rising with every sharp turn Mateo took. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Boss, there’s something you should know,” Emilio began as Mateo threw a scowl at him, jerking the wheel to the left. Obviously, the earlier whispers concerned cartel rules one and two.

  Fuck.

  The car filled with tension, and an internal war raged within me between taking control as the boss and getting the one thing I’ve grown unable to resist the hell out of here.

  As unsure glances passed between my two lieutenants, all I’ve known my entire life won the battle. I dropped Eden’s hand, and gripped the back of Mateo’s head rest. “Have you forgotten who runs this cartel, Cortes? I’m not dead yet. Until I am, you’ll both stop the secretive whispering and inform me of every goddamn thing that happens. Now!”

  Mateo’s darkened eyes locked with mine in the rearview mirror. “Fine. My men confirmed suspicious activity around the—”

  He never finished his thought.

  Ear-shattering blasts shook the SUV, the impact rattling the windows and the frame. A flood of unresolved anxiety hit me from feeling the same damn thing not seven hours earlier. Instinct had me diving over Eden, covering her with my own body as the car rattled with the impact. Mateo and Emilio cursed, fighting to stay in control of the wheel and shouting commands for me to stay down as they pulled their guns.

  Several aftershocks hit, causing Eden to scream, her cries muffled by my own chest. My ears rang, the blast reengaging the deafness I’d experienced following the stash house explosion.

  “Mateo, what the fuck?” I blinked through the clouds of smoke permeating the windows. As soon as I spoke the words, a second blast ripped any other words from my lips as the SUV took a hard right onto a side road.

  He barked out orders, breaking rank in the chaos. “Stay down!”

  “Val!”

  I pushed up on my hands and knees and grabbed a handful of her hair, shoving it down onto the leather seat. “Head down, Cereza!” The blast seemed to have quieted, so I risked a look around. Black smoke billowed from the horizon, a mushroom of explosion, leading the way for sirens gaining volume in the distance.

  Mateo slammed his hand against the steering wheel and made another sharp turn. “Keep her down!”

  “What the hell happened?” I demanded, watching the dark funnel cloud fade into the distance. I’d had enough reactionary shit. I hadn’t ruled most of the United States as the top importer, forcing any rival cartel that dared challenge me back to Mexico with an empty bank account and skeleton crew because I sat back and allowed myself to be challenged.

  I’d been enthralled with a woman and let business get out of hand long enough. It stopped right now.

  Mateo’s jaw ticked as he casted a side-eye at Emilio. “They lit the safe house.”

  Fighting under my hold, Eden popped up, her wild hair wrapped across her chin. “What do you mean lit?”

  Closing my eyes, I drew a long breath, knowing the blast was only phase one. “He means the safe house is gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Gone. As in blown to hell and back.”

  Disbelief coated her widened eyes. “But…we were just there.”

  “Cereza…” Raking my palm down my face, I willed her to stop talking.

  “Oh, God,” she stammered, her voice catching with understanding. “We almost…they tried…oh, God!”

  I wanted to touch her and reassure her we’d be okay. Instead, I stared at her blankly then turned my head away in frustration. I couldn’t tell her something that might be a lie.

  “Are you sure? Jesus, you’re sure?” Letting out a string of curses, Emilio punched the dashboard in front of him as he gripped the phone tightly against his face. “Is she all right? What hospital? Yes, take care of all the bills and make sure you talk to her. She knows not to say anything, but I want it reinforced, understand? Bien. Update in fifteen minutes, or I’ll have someone’s ass.” Cursing again, he slammed his phone against the window, punctuating each hit with a new expletive.

  I steeled my jaw. “What now?”

  “They got RVC too. About twenty minutes ago. My men don’t know much—only that the bomb originated from the giant hole that used to be your office.”

  She.

  “Janine? Is she…?”

  Emilio shook his head. “No, she’d just punched in the code to open it up for a client who’d put in a call for a Saturday appointment. The blast knocked her out, and she’s cut up pretty bad from the glass, but she’s going to be all right.”

  We spent the rest of the ride in silence, the hard reality of the situation weighing on all four of us.

  The Muñoz cartel just made a decisive move in a war I had to finish.

  Something told
me not all of us would make it through to the other side.

  The last thing I wanted was for Eden to be sucked into my world.

  Out of safe houses and places to go, we’d driven for forty-five minutes before making the reluctant decision to return to my own house. Miraculously, it still stood, unscathed from Muñoz artillery.

  For now.

  Mateo paced the floor, convinced we were all sitting targets. He was right. But I’d argued it didn’t matter where we went. Unless we drove until the wheels fell off the SUV, eventually they’d find us. I’d be damned if I’d run like a little bitch. No Carrera backed down from a fight, and this would be no different. Fucking with me was one thing, but those bastards made it personal when they killed my men, put an innocent employee in the hospital, and endangered the life of a woman who confused the hell out of me.

  She sat curled up in the corner of my oversized, black leather couch, her knees hugged to her chest, staring off into the open kitchen. With her brows drawn and her lips pulled tight, I had no idea what she thought, but I had a feeling she hated me. With good reason.

  I brought her into this against her will. She still associated me with the death of her brother, and now, there stood a very good chance, we’d all die before the end of the day. Not exactly the kind of guy every girl dreamed of bringing home to meet the family.

  Then again, background info told me Eden’s mom had split when she was born, her father took one of my biggest unpaid drug debts and left town, and my best cleaner did God knows what with her brother’s body. There was no family left to meet.

  But as much as I wanted her, as much as my body craved her, and her presence calmed the chaos, I knew the only safe place for her would be far away from me. The Muñoz cartel would take what they knew would hurt me the most. They wouldn’t take pleasure in torturing me with physical pain. We’d all grown up with the same code and creed—endure until death, but divulge nothing.

  No, they’d never inflict direct pain on me. They’d do it through her. The longer I kept her, the higher the price on her head became.