The Carrera Cartel : A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Cora Kenborn

  Hearing him call me a name so sacred did something violent to me. If we were near a table, I would’ve slammed my flute against it and held the jagged edge against his jugular. “Don’t ever call me that again. That was my father’s nickname for me.”

  “You let Brody use it.”

  “My father’s blood runs in his veins, not yours.”

  “Do you really want to debate genealogy here, Leighton?” Releasing my chin, he gestured all around us. “I’m sure there are a few people who might find the subject fascinating.”

  He wouldn’t dare risk tarnishing his wife’s precious image. No, he wanted me to cower, so I did the exact opposite.

  “I think you’re bluffing,” I said, pushing my shoulders back. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. However, your lack of intelligence aside, you don’t have the balls to deal with the public fall out.”

  “Walked away unscathed once.” Winking, he cupped my neck and drew me against him while pressing his lips against my ear. “I can do it again. Watch yourself, Lil’ Bit.”

  I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe as he pulled back and flashed his devil-may-care smile. It wasn’t until someone called his name and he walked away that I unlocked my knees and gasped for air.

  He touched me again.

  Goose bumps littered my skin, and I shook so hard champagne sloshed over the rim of my flute onto my shoes.

  Warmth. I needed warmth.

  Downing the glass, I reached for another one, the effects starting to hit me as the room tilted. I didn’t give a shit. I felt like I’d been locked in a freezer with no way out.

  Then I felt it.

  Heat.

  Not warmth, but scorching, intense heat. I glanced up and scanned the room for a glimpse of his dark clothing, finding nothing but open checkbooks waiting to kiss my mother’s ass. However, the more I searched, the hotter I felt. Mateo was close by. He watched me like he promised, and whether right or wrong, it was the only thing keeping me sane.

  If I wasn’t so on edge, I would’ve laughed.

  A criminal protecting a criminal from a criminal.

  Just a day in the life of a Harcourt.

  After two dances with Brody, my mother whisked me away toward a small group of people Finn was currently entertaining. Before I could protest, she’d introduced me to at least four different men, announcing to each of them that I was new in town and single.

  The more men I met, the more champagne I drank. Soon, the room spun as much as I did and the heat blazed down on me igniting a firestorm. It wouldn’t be long until Mateo intervened. I felt his anger. It had long passed a simmering boil and was ready to explode.

  I bowed out gracefully. “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you all, but I really have to be going.”

  “What’s your hurry? Stick around, there’s someone I want you to meet.” By the time I spun around, Finn was already dragging me toward a man in a wrinkled gray suit standing near the edge of the dance floor. I blinked a few times trying to focus when he faced me, dipping his dimpled chin in acknowledgement. I stumbled, allowing myself only a sharp inhale.

  Alex.

  “Leighton, I’d like to introduce you to Alex Atwood. Alex is one of your mother’s top campaign investors.” Alex simply raised a highball of something dark and strong, a secret smile on his lips. “Alex, this is my daughter, Leighton. She just graduated from Texas State University.”

  “Stepdaughter,” I corrected, taking Alex’s offered hand.

  We shook hands, his grip unnecessarily tight. “Graduated, huh? What’s your degree in, Leighton?”

  Asshole. He knew I didn’t graduate, but I could play this game too. “Criminal Justice, with a minor in Psychology.”

  “Impressive. You’re a little small to be a beat cop, don’t you think?”

  “Not my style. I’m thinking more FBI profiler for the National Center for Violent Crimes. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  “No, can’t say I have,” he said, lies rolling off his tongue like water. “But that’s a very ambitious career field.”

  “Justice is in my blood.”

  Finn could spin all the fabricated lies he wanted to, but I knew the truth. Alex Atwood wasn’t a heavy hitter in my mother’s political circle. I’d been dragged to enough of these parties to know who bankrolled her campaigns and who didn’t.

  I knew exactly who he was—someone not to be trusted. Not that I did before, but anyone on a first name basis with my stepfather stood on the other side of the battlefield as far as I was concerned. Obviously, there was more to Agent Atwood than I realized.

  Finn narrowed his eyes. “Well, I see you two have a common interest, so I’ll leave you to it. Lilith is almost ready to speak, anyway.”

  The second he walked away, I invaded Alex’s personal space, my dress protesting my swift movement.

  “Campaign investor, my ass. What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t you torture me enough this morning?”

  “I’m here to keep an eye on you. I told you in the car that you’re done playing house with Cortes.” He glanced around, his demeanor shifting from calm and collected to jumpy and tense. Grabbing the back of my arm, he pulled me close and lowered his voice. “Oh, and I meant to ask why you called and hung up on Sunday.”

  “I didn’t call you on Sunday.”

  “Yes, you did. I got a call from your number Sunday afternoon, and you fucking hung up on me. I don’t appreciate being dicked around, Leighton.”

  “I didn’t call you! I left my phone in...” I stopped short of confessing it had been in the pocket of Swenson’s jacket.

  The one I’d tossed on the floor of Mateo’s SUV.

  Oh, God. Mateo had my phone.

  “You left it where?” he asked.

  “You know what? I did call you on Sunday, but it was a mistake. I hit the wrong button. I’m thinking of Saturday when I left my phone at the cantina by accident.” Alex narrowed his eyes as I mustered a convincing smile.

  A light hand rested on my shoulder. “Leighton, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Once I turned around, it took me a moment to recognize the woman dressed in a conservative blue floor-length gown. Her long chestnut brown hair was swept to the side in a low sophisticated ponytail. I had always known it to be short and efficient—just like her.

  “Jackie? Is that you?”

  Jackie Abrams had been my mother’s campaign manager since her first run for mayor when I was fourteen. Back then, she’d been a bright-eyed twenty-nine-year old, hungry to get her hands dirty and change the world.

  Eight years later all she had to show for it were dirty hands.

  “Yes, it’s me, and a belated welcome back to Houston. However, I really need to speak with you. It’s urgent.” Shifting a glance toward Alex, she scowled and settled her gaze back on me. “And private.”

  “Sure, we can go to the bar.”

  She eyed the room, her lips pressed in a tight line. “No, let’s go outside on the terrace.”

  I nodded, not bothering to give Alex a proper goodbye as we walked away. “I’m not interested in being a part of my mother’s campaign, if that’s what you’re—”

  “How well do you know that man?” she interrupted, reaching for the terrace door.

  “Alex? I just met him. Why?”

  Jackie opened her mouth, then glancing over my shoulder, shut it just as fast. The same chill from earlier crept back into my veins, forcing my spine to straighten. I knew he was there. I didn’t have to turn around to confirm it.

  “Another time, Jackie. Leighton promised me a dance.”

  “I never said I’d...” The rest of my protest stuck in my throat as Finn tightened his hold on my arm and dragged me toward the dance floor. I could’ve caused a scene. I could’ve stomped my feet and yelled at the top of my lungs, but what would that have gotten me? I hadn’t endured almost a week of pretending to lose it now.

  The last place I wanted to be was in my stepfather’s arms, but I gr
itted my teeth and concentrated on breathing as he pulled me close. “We need to talk about your problem,” he whispered as he led me in a classic waltz around on the dance floor.

  “I don’t have a—” I never got the last word out because I did have a problem, and it reopened old scars, spilling blood and secrets as I stared into Finn’s eyes for the first time tonight.

  They were the color of steel and just as hard. A replica of the ones I saw in my rearview mirror the night I was almost pushed into oncoming traffic.

  I remembered now why they’d looked so familiar.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mateo

  My hands tightened around the white pillar, causing my forearms to shake with rage. If it hadn’t been so thick, I probably would’ve snapped it in two.

  I arrived at this parade of assholes already in a bad mood and it’d only gone downhill from there. When I showed up at Brody’s apartment, mild irritation reached war zone destruction level. That thing she was wearing couldn’t even be classified as a dress. It was more like a piece of red Saran Wrap suctioned to her tits and ass. Leighton was a modest dresser, so when I saw her looking like she should be covered in dollar bills, I lost it.

  I fucking lost it.

  Not that it mattered much. She strutted right past me and climbed into the Tahoe without a word. Even though we argued the whole way here, she never once raised her voice, content to let me yell like a fucking lunatic. She was calm, cool, and eerily confident.

  Unlike now.

  I cringed watching her slam champagne all night, but I stayed hidden. I even held back from punching that old guy with the chin dimple who made her jumpy as hell. But it was her stepfather’s repeated touches that had me stepping out of the shadows and digging into my pocket to plunge my knife straight into his heart.

  Everything from my determined steps across the dance floor to Leighton’s desperate struggles to pull away from him played out in slow motion. She looked like a bird he’d trapped in a cage, frantically flapping her wings toward freedom but going nowhere.

  By the time I reached them, one hand was already in my pocket as the other knocked his hand out of hers. Leighton gasped, but my focus centered on one man.

  “Walk away,” I growled, pushing in between them.

  “I was dancing with my stepdaughter, if you don’t mind.” Stepping around me, he reached for Leighton again.

  Screw the knife. I’m going to kill this motherfucker with my bare hands.

  This time, I shoved both hands into his chest, knocking him backward. “Actually, I do mind. Now, I’m going to say this one more time. Get your fucking hands off her, or I’ll take them off for you.”

  That wasn’t a threat.

  “You can’t do this,” Leighton whispered behind me. “Don’t take risks for me.”

  What the hell was she saying? All I’d done since coming back to Houston was take risks for her. Despite the animosity still simmering between us, I would still risk everything for her.

  “What’s your name, son?” Finn asked, his eyes narrowed on my face. “I created the guest list for tonight, and I’m fairly certain you’re not on it.”

  I started to tell him where he could shove his list when Leighton slipped in beside me and grabbed my hand. “He’s my plus one.”

  “I thought you came here with Brody?”

  I caught the challenge in Leighton’s glare. “You think a lot of things.”

  I let go of Leighton’s hand and wrapped my arm around her waist. His eyes went exactly where I wanted them to, irritation hardening his pretty boy face.

  “Well, Mr. Plus One, do enjoy the time you have left here.” Straightening his tuxedo jacket, he stepped away and disappeared into the crowd.

  I waited for some show of gratitude. Instead, she stomped her ridiculously high heel on the floor. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that you were thirty seconds from flatlining, so I saved you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “I can handle Finn.”

  “It looked like it,” I shot back with a smirk. She turned on her thin heels to push me away, so I took advantage of her unsteady footing and pulled her flush against me. “Dance with me.”

  “What?”

  “People are starting to stare, mi amor. Dance with me or go answer their questions.” During our argument, the music had changed, the stuffy and outdated song they’d danced to now replaced by a slower, more hypnotic beat. Slowly guiding her hips, I forced her body into compliance until she melted into me.

  She shivered in my arms and placed a hand lightly on my chest. “Mateo, that was stupid. You just outed yourself in front of every major player in Houston.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I laughed. “Leighton, the Carreras own half the men in this room. Everyone here has a secret they don’t want exposed, and it’s our job to find it and use it to our advantage. Most men have a price.”

  “Do you?” she asked, her face a mass of confusion.

  I stiffened. “I said, most men. Let me be clear; I am not for sale, and I don’t give a shit about any skeletons falling out of my closet.”

  Her face fell, and I wasn’t sure why. “I see.”

  “I’m not sure you do.” I tightened my hold on her. “I don’t give a shit because my only skeleton is you, Leighton. I’ve kept you locked away in there so long, I almost forgot what it was like to feel you against me. Now that I’ve re-opened that door, if you think I’m going to hide like some little bitch while another man puts his hands on what’s mine, you’ve misjudged me.”

  I didn’t wait for a response. Pulling her against me, I let my body crush any other doubts she might have had. The flush from her chest crawled up her neck, reddening her cheeks. I knew she felt the power she had over me. On any given day, I decided if men lived or died, but one woman in a ridiculous plastic dress could bring me to my knees.

  “Why does Finn Donovan scare you so much?”

  “He doesn’t. I’m fine.”

  I’m fine.

  If I’d learned anything about women, it was that when one bit out those two words, they were anything but fine. The mystery that was Leighton Harcourt unraveled by the minute, and I was all too happy to tug at the loose string.

  “Tus secretos son mis secretos. Confía en mí, mi amor.” Your secrets are my secrets. Trust me, my love.

  She shivered again and tucked her delicate face into the crook of my neck. My heartbeat spiked at her confession. Verbally, she said nothing, but physically, she whispered everything I needed to hear.

  For now.

  We danced so close there was no beginning to her and no end to me. We danced like we did the night of her prom, filled with hope for a future together that would never come. We danced until her brother reluctantly cut in to take her to say hello to an old family friend who’d apparently gained enough zeros in their bank account to warrant an invitation.

  “Do you mind?” Brody asked, a strange respect on his face.

  Brody Harcourt had never challenged my authority over him. I had his respect from day one concerning the cartel. However, something had changed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I’d earned it for being with his sister.

  Which didn’t make sense when he’d spent the last six days threatening to cut off my dick if I laid a hand on her.

  “It’s fine. I’ll find something to occupy my time.”

  That something wasn’t hard to find.

  Lilith Harcourt Donovan stood by the makeshift stage, her bright beaded dress calling to me from across the room like a disco ball from the depths of hell. I wanted to get her alone all night, but every time I took a step out of the shadows, some asshole waving a check in one hand and a drink in the other stole my opportunity. However, as she stared at the teleprompter, mouthing the words to her speech, I knew both our times had come.

  “Fabulous party,” I said, leaning over her shoulder. She jumped, letting out a surprised yelp as she folded her hand over her chest.r />
  “Thank you. I always love to hear from the community I represent. However, if you’ll excuse me, I have a speech to prepare for.”

  “Oh, I’m not one of your constituents, Mayor Donovan. In fact, I don’t even live in this country anymore, much less your city or state. But I bet the ones who are here would love to get their hands on the scandal you’ve been hiding.”

  She sighed, folding her arms across her chest in defeat. “If it’s about my daughter’s dirty little secret, you can save your breath. I already know.”

  Shit! Did she know about Leighton and Luis? Or even worse, did she know about Leighton and the DEA? For a woman whose child was being blackmailed with a murder charge to infiltrate the darkest side of Houston, Lilith Donovan seemed to swat the revelation away like an annoying gnat.

  Still, after what I’d seen tonight, I wouldn’t put anything past these people.

  “Actually, this has nothing to do with your daughter. But speaking of dirty little secrets, maybe you can shed some light on one of yours.” It took less than ten seconds for me to pull my phone from my pocket, hold it in front of her face, and play the video I’d loaded onto it in all its pornographic glory.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  “Mayor Donovan, that is one uncompromising position you’re in.” Tilting my head, I grimaced at the screen. “And dangerous too. That could break a hip at your age.”

  From the way her mouth tightened up like an uncooperative asshole, I knew I’d hit her where it hurt. She was more furious over my insult than the tape being in my possession.

  She cleared her throat, moving in front of me to block any curious onlookers. “Where did you get that?”

  For half a second, I considered telling her just to see how she’d react, but I decided against it. My best defense was a carefully constructed offense. I held all the cards and she knew it.

  “Don’t worry about where I got it,” I said, maintaining an air of indifference. “I suggest you worry more about what your donors would think about their mayor being in bed with the cartel she claims to despise so much.”