The Carrera Cartel : A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Cora Kenborn

  Nope. Not today. Not ever.

  I was surprised it’d taken this long for her to contact me. Two days must have been torture for her to keep quiet, knowing the prodigal daughter had returned home and not contacted her. Even though I’d expected it, I couldn’t make it easy on her. Four years of pretending each other didn’t exist didn’t evaporate overnight because we now lived in the same city.

  I held my phone steady in my hand and waited. Surely, she wouldn’t disappoint me. Right on cue, it rang again, and I smiled, reminding me that only three things in this world were certain: death, taxes, and my mother’s inflated ego.

  Silencing it for the second time, I tucked it back into my pocket. There wouldn’t be another. Mother would consider that rude. Not to me, of course, but to her precious image. Third time was not the charm to Mayor Donovan. She considered it to be a strike.

  Whatever. My mother was the least of my problems. I still hadn’t heard from Alex, and Brody was giving me the silent treatment. Then there was the whole issue of my past busting through a bathroom door and turning everything I knew to shit.

  I glanced at my phone again, groaning to see it was already one o’clock in the morning. I’d worked a double shift and after lying awake tossing and turning last night, replaying Matty’s every touch, I’d gotten maybe two hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours. By the time the last beer had been drunk and the door was locked, I was beyond exhausted.

  Wiping down the last of the sticky bar, I eyed the cushy mat covering the damp bar floor. As disgusting as it was, I halfway contemplated curling up on it for even a moment of rest. Shaking my head, I tossed the rag into the sink and leaned over the bar, burying my face in my hands.

  I’d been so focused on what had to be done that I never saw him coming. Mateo Cortes was just a name like Valentin Carrera and Emilio Reyes. Three people whose lives meant nothing to me when my brother’s fate hung on their ruin. I’d come here determined to see this through. Then he showed up and tilted everything on its side.

  I knew when I met him that he wasn’t like any other boy I’d ever known. Matty took my ideal of what boys were like and shattered it. He was dangerous, unrefined, mysterious, and a rush of adrenaline to my veins that had yet to be equaled.

  I came alive when I met him and died the day I left.

  Amanda strolled into the bar from the bathroom, freshly changed from her uniform into a fire-engine red dress cut so low it should’ve been illegal. “Okay, I’m all done with my end of shift duties. I know it’s only your second day, but if you’re sure you don’t mind locking up, I’m going to skip out of here early for my date. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I trust you, and well, look at him.” Turning her phone around, she showed me a picture of a dating site profile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a stock photo from the internet.

  “Hot,” I said, forcing a smile.

  Her grin widened. “I know.” Tucking her phone in her jacket, she tapped my arm. “And hey, don’t think I didn’t see tall, dark, and saucy follow you into the bathroom yesterday. What’s up with that?”

  She wasn’t the only one. Everyone saw it, and every eye followed me as I walked out of that bathroom trying to act like my world hadn’t just collapsed. My cheeks heated remembering Brody’s accusing stares and the chair that sat empty across from him.

  “Nothing,” I said, clearing the emotion from my throat. “He just wanted to make sure I was okay. Infection is no joke.” I forced a smile and raised my bandaged hand, wiggling my fingers to distract her.

  She pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow. “How attentive of him. Most of our customers wouldn’t care if we bled from our eyeballs as long as we kept the tap flowing.”

  “Mmhmm,” I answered, stacking dirty glasses onto a washing rack. “Nice guy.”

  She chuckled, and I saw her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “Okay, have your secrets. The story I’ll make up in my head is probably better anyway. Later.” Throwing her hand in the air, she waved and disappeared through the kitchen.

  The silence felt like an uncomfortable thickness. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, which was stupid because I’d heard Amanda engage the dead bolt on the backdoor when she left.

  I was definitely alone.

  My thoughts wandered back to yesterday when I’d overheard Emilio on the phone. Obviously, he was involved in something. No surprise there, considering he ran operations for a Mexican cartel. However, it was his remark about the person being in a public office that set the wheels spinning in my head. Whoever he’d been speaking to had a legitimate nine-to-five job with ears in such close proximity it worried him enough to call attention to it.

  I stared down the hallway toward his office, my pulse racing with adrenaline, both from fear and exhilaration. Chances like this didn’t come around very often.

  It was risky, and probably a very bad idea. However, Emilio rarely left the cantina unattended without one of his men watching over it. Quickly scanning the corners for cameras and seeing none, I moved before I could change my mind. I found it odd that a business owner, especially one who stole for a living himself, wouldn’t expect the same and plan accordingly, but Emilio wasn’t exactly a by-the-book kind of guy.

  I wasn’t shocked to find his office locked. An open door would’ve been too easy. Bending down, I assessed the situation and bit back a smile. It was the same kind Mateo dismantled within seconds yesterday. I’d seen him do it countless times in the past, and eventually, watching led to learning.

  Etiquette only took you so far. Skill took you everywhere.

  Pulling a bobby pin out of my ponytail, I stuck the straight end into the lock. I held my breath while bending the pin and searching for the hook. Just when frustration set in, I heard the telltale click, and the lock released.

  Bingo.

  Once inside, I wrinkled my nose at both the mess and stench. Being inside was way worse than the glimpse I caught yesterday. The place looked like a rabid animal had been locked inside and then crawled in a corner and died.

  “Fucking pig,” I muttered under my breath.

  Trying not to touch anything, I got to work. My hands shook as I opened his laptop and hit the power button, my eye twitching as a password enabled screen popped up, denying me entry.

  Shit.

  Emilio didn’t strike me as the type of man who’d create some intricate password that he’d most likely forget. Chewing on my lip, I typed my first attempt into the blinking box.

  E-m-i-l-i-o.

  Two words popped up instantaneously: incorrect password.

  Ugh. Too easy.

  It had to be something that meant something to him. Something that was always on his mind.

  C-a-l-i-e-n-t-e.

  Incorrect Password again.

  Son of a bitch.

  Slumping into the chair, I cursed again and scrubbed my palms over my face. This was useless. I could spend all night sitting here typing in random words and none of them would be correct. Who was I kidding? This was a high-ranking cartel member. He wouldn’t use the name of his own bar as his password.

  Use your brain, Leighton.

  I rested my hands on top of my head when a reflection in a mirror hanging outside his office caught my attention. Although, it wasn’t so much the mirror as the reflection shining in it.

  “Then why is her picture still up?”

  “House-fucking-orders.”

  Sitting up, my fingers buzzed as I typed the four letters that drew such a heated reaction out of him.

  E-d-e-n.

  Lights flashed and screens shifted. Within seconds Emilio’s desktop displayed before my eyes. I had no idea where to begin, so I just started clicking folders, hoping something useful would pop up.

  The first two folders labeled “business” were as laundered as the bar itself. Files filled with purchase order spreadsheets for supplies and an employee log of hours with payroll would get me nowhere with Atwood. Closing them out, I clicked on a
third folder and froze.

  I couldn’t breathe. I expected to find damning evidence on some poor idiot Emilio was blackmailing—not a file with my father’s name on it.

  “What the hell,” I whispered. As I clicked the file, information about my father filled the screen. His picture. A photo of the precinct where he worked. An uploaded camera phone photo of the home where we lived.

  Why would Emilio have such personal information?

  There were four more files, all unnamed, waiting to answer my question. I wanted to look at them, but I’d been in here too long. On a whim, I opened a web browser page and accessed my email. With sweat dripping down my temple, I typed an email to myself and attached all five files.

  “Come on, come on,” I begged, hitting every button to hurry up. Just as the last one loaded, the back door slammed. I jumped, my hand sending a pile of papers scattering off the corner of his desk.

  “Shit!” With my heart in my throat, I exited out of the program and deleted the browser history, leaving the mess. Fuck it if he noticed. I’d rather Emilio question me than catch me. Logging out of the computer, I shut it down and slammed the top.

  Heavy footsteps echoed in the kitchen as dread rippled down my back. I should’ve trusted my initial instinct, but now wasn’t the time for regrets. I reengaged the lock and closed his office just as the kitchen door swung open.

  “Leighton? What are you doing?” There wasn’t as much concern in his tone as suspicion.

  My positioning was perfect. Blue eyes stared back at me as if offering me a way out of the corner I’d backed myself into. Taking a deep breath, I threw myself against her picture.

  “Praying,” I said, forcing a wobble in my voice.

  I’m going to die right here.

  “For what?”

  “Not for what, for who.” Closing my eyes, I managed to squeeze out a tear. “My brother always loved her,” I admitted, hoping Brody would forgive me for throwing him under the bus. “Eden meant a lot to him, and her death destroyed him.”

  Emilio snorted. “Eden Lachey isn’t dead.”

  That got my attention. I snapped my head around, wiping the tear from my eye. “What?”

  He glanced toward her picture once more and shook his head. “Forget it.”

  I wanted to press him but being caught standing outside his office had him on edge. Pushing my luck was out of the question.

  The silence became unbearable, so I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Well, it’s late, and I have to finish stacking the glasses in the kitchen.”

  He stared at me, his dark eyes full of distrust. “Why do you seem so tense?”

  “Me? I’m not tense. It’s just been a long week.”

  Emilio pressed a hand against the wall beside my head. “I’ll clean up. Go home, Leighton Harcourt.”

  My heart beat so loud, I was sure he could hear it. I tried to swallow but my throat felt like it was clogged. “Are...are you sure?”

  “Like you said, you’ve had a long week. I imagine leaving everything you love behind and starting over would have its consequences.” As I rolled the weight of his words around in my head, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that was anything but friendly.

  I need to get out of here.

  Fumbling with my apron, I untied the strings and skirted by him “I’m just going to get my stuff,” I announced, walking backward.

  Great. State the obvious. That doesn’t sound shady.

  He nodded, never taking his eyes off me. The more I walked, the more he stared. Once I made it into the kitchen and found my purse and keys, I grabbed the door knob, finally letting out the breath I’d been holding when his voice crawled up my spine.

  “Leighton?”

  “Yes?” I answered, my voice barely a whisper.

  “Drive safely.”

  I nodded and pushed the door open. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

  The moment fresh air hit my face, the smothering weight that had been on my chest lifted. Still, I laid a hand over my heart just to feel it beating.

  The whole way to my car, I replayed everything that happened in my head, obsessing over every detail until, by the time I turned onto the main road, my head was spinning. I pressed harder on the gas pedal as the need to get home and read what else was on that email grew stronger.

  If Alex hadn’t already told me Emilio was knee-deep in cartel business, I would’ve come to that conclusion on my own. But the information he had on my father didn’t fit. My dad was as straight and narrow as they came.

  I was so busy trying to make one and two add up to four that I didn’t notice the car behind me until I turned off a darkened side street. They were too close, making the sharp turn behind me and speeding up. I hit the gas again—this time taking the next turn so fast my tires squealed.

  Stay calm. You’re imagining this.

  But as soon as the dark sedan behind me gunned it and took the turn just as fast, my pulse skyrocketed. I wanted to call Brody, but there was no time. Pushing everything out of my mind, I concentrated on the road.

  Fuck the rules. Fuck the signs. Fuck the lights. The road and the gas pedal were all that mattered. Gripping the wheel until my fingers turned white, I rushed through two red lights, the dark car keeping up with me the whole time.

  Looking around for an escape, all I saw were more side streets. More alleyways. More places for the person chasing me to block me in and trap me in a hell of my own doing.

  “Not today, asshole,” I muttered.

  Gritting my teeth, I blew through my third red light and prayed for a siren to pull me over. Instead, the car behind me bumped into the back of me. Shaken, I lifted my head and glanced in the rearview mirror.

  That was the moment I saw the cold, steel gray eyes reflected in it. They were hauntingly familiar, but I couldn’t place them. Before I could process anything, the car backed up and hit the gas again, disappearing into the night. I let out a scream and slammed my fist on the wheel.

  Then it hit me.

  “Drive safely.”

  They hadn’t been parting words. They’d been a challenge.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mateo

  “You sent Luis to San Marcos to watch over Leighton,” I noted, slowly running my hand underneath the kitchen counter. “So, you must have trusted him.”

  “Why are we rehashing this?” Brody called out from the living room. “He never gave me any reason to doubt him. I had no idea he’d gotten as close as he did.”

  After seeing the pictures on Luis’s computer, I wanted answers, but I sure as hell didn’t need to be reminded of what had gone on between them. “Well, obviously, now we know Luis was a traitor, but how well do you really know your sister?”

  I could feel the tension radiate from the other room.

  “What the hell are you saying, Cortes?”

  I was about to give up my search when something dark caught my eye under the toaster.

  “Brody, have you considered the fact that Leighton just shot him?”

  “My sister is the victim here,” he insisted. “You don’t know her like I do.”

  Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. I know her better than you do.

  I shook my head. “If you say so.” Pulling the small, round device from underneath the toaster, I dropped it into my pocket just as Brody stormed into the kitchen.

  “Look, just focus all your energy on the burner phone and stop wasting it suspecting Leighton. If you’d get to know her, you’d realize how innocent she is in all this.” Stalking into the kitchen, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and held up his phone. “I’ve got to go to the warehouse downtown. A shipment arrived in Corpus Christi, and it’s fucked up. I’ll be back later.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” he said, dropping his phone into his jacket. “Leighton should be home any minute, and I don’t like the idea of her being here alone.”

  “You want me to babysit your sister?” I tried to keep my face
impassive, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded. “I’m not sure I like how things turned out for the last guy you tapped for that job.”

  Brody stopped at the door and smirked. “Yeah, he’s dead, so I’d keep my hands to myself if I were you.”

  I said nothing because I knew I couldn’t keep that promise, and he took my silence as compliance. I thought Brody was smarter than that.

  After watching his car leave, I inspected his apartment, but I couldn’t find any other devices. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind who planted the bug, and not just because she was the only one with access to the place. Anyone with an ounce of experience would never have been stupid enough to bug a fucking toaster.

  I was restless. As minutes ticked off the clock, I paced by the window. What the hell was keeping her? Dark thoughts loomed in the most jaded parts of my brain. The parts that had seen and participated in the torture of witnesses who thought they could escape our reach. The more I thought, the tighter my chest became. Frustrated, I stopped mid-pace and ran my hands through my hair, tugging on the strands as if to force some sense back into my head.

  She’s a job. She’s nothing but a job.

  Just as I reached for my phone to break down and call her, tires squealed in the parking lot, followed by the slam of a car door. I didn’t bother moving to the window again to look. Something inside me knew it was her.

  I braced myself, determined to stand my ground, when the door flew open and the brutal reality of what I lost came barreling inside and ran full force into my arms. I barely had time to register what happened before she wrapped her arms around my neck, her small body trembling uncontrollably. I couldn’t help tightening my grip, dipping my nose in her hair and inhaling the intoxicating scent of wildflowers.

  My chest squeezed in agony. I drowned in longing as two sides of me fought a losing battle. The monster inside me demanded I make her pay for turning her back on me, while the man who lost her screamed at me to take what belonged to me.

  I didn’t have to make the decision. In the end, it was her who pulled away first.