The Carrera Cartel : A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Cora Kenborn

I felt myself weakening. Every time my head put an iron wall between us, my body reminded me it wasn’t the only one in control.

  With one hand digging into my hip, Brody wrapped the other around the back of my neck, stroking his thumb up the length of my throat until it came to rest under my chin. “Maybe you’re being set up, but there’s something else going on.” He tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at him. “You can spin all the bullshit lies you want, Adriana. I’m going to find out what it is, and when I do, you’d better hope it doesn’t involve Val or his family or—”

  “Or, what?” I challenged. “You’ll kill me?”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push me, Carrera. You won’t like what happens.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Harcourt. You already know what happens.”

  His face boiled with rage, and at that moment I had no idea if I wanted to watch him burn and dance in his ashes or stoke the fire and get licked by the flames. Twisting out of his hold, I glared at him before heading toward the bar, his mocking voice echoing in my ears.

  “So, do you actually have a plan, or are you winging this whole thing?”

  “Watch and learn, counselor.”

  I assumed he followed behind me, but I didn’t particularly care. By the time I pushed my way through the throngs of people, my walls were firmly in place, and it was showtime. No fewer than four bartenders raced around filling drink orders, sweat pouring down their temples. Leaning over the bar, I put my assets on display while watching everyone’s movements. When I caught the one in the middle sneaking repeated glances at my chest as he wiped down the bar, I smiled.

  Folding my arms over the chrome railing, I painted on a seductive smile and crooked a finger, beckoning him over. Ignoring the protests and raised hands, he made his way toward me.

  “Busy night?” I purred in Spanish.

  The bartender’s lips twisted. “Are you going to point out the obvious or order a drink?”

  “That depends…” Narrowing my eyes, I peered at his nametag. “Tomás. What’s the most expensive scotch you have?”

  Dropping the rag, he glanced behind him at the rows of liquor bottles spanning the length of the bar. “I think we have some Johnnie Walker Blue. You sure you can afford it, mami? It’s twelve hundred pesos a shot.”

  I had no intention of paying for it, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Make it two.”

  I didn’t have to wait long before he set two shot glasses and a bill in front of me. “Twenty-four hundred pesos.” I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. “I have rules against running tabs for Johnnie.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. I’d hoped to coax the information out of him, but it was obvious he’d played this game before. He was good, but I was better.

  “I’m the exception to your rule.”

  He snorted, turning away to take another drink order. “Says who?”

  “Cristiano.” The name rolled off my tongue with ease. “Care to ask him, or would you like me to?”

  Tomás froze, the woman waving money in his face forgotten. My pulse raced as he turned his narrowed eyes back to me. “Who are you?”

  “I’m someone who’s going to have your ass fired if you don’t tell me where to find Cristiano in the next five seconds.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Four.”

  Bending down, he dug a beer bottle out of the cooler and popped the cap. “I said, I don’t know.”

  “Three.”

  “You’ve got cojones, you know that?” he growled, handing the bottle to the annoying bitch with the fistful of pesos.

  “Two.”

  He was in my face before I could hit one. “I haven’t seen him tonight, but I can take you to his office.” He held up a hand as I indulged in a victorious smile. “You’re on your own after that.” After stopping to have a few heated words with one of the other bartenders, he rounded the corner and glared at me.

  I slid off the bar stool and turned halfway around when I remembered the scotch. Grabbing a shot in each hand, I spun around and slammed into a wall of hard muscle.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Why? Are you jealous, papi?”

  “No,” Brody bit out through clenched teeth. “I’m tired of standing over here with my dick in my hand while you run a solo operation.”

  Glancing down, I cocked an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t have your dick out in here. It isn’t that type of club.”

  A low growl rumbled in his throat. “You know what I mean, Adriana. What the hell were you trying to sell over there?”

  “Nothing. I was buying.” I held up the glasses. “Two shots of Johnnie Walker Blue.” Noticing they were half empty and the front of his shirt was soaked, a wicked smile curved my lips. “Well, now I guess it’s technically only one shot of Johnnie Walker Blue.” Shoving a glass in his hand, I pinched his drenched shirt between my index finger and thumb and winked. “But if you want the other one, you’ll have to suck yourself.”

  The cords in Brody’s neck strained so hard, I was afraid they’d snap. As entertaining as this was, I caught Tomás’s impatient stare out of the corner of my eye. Clinking our glasses together, I poured what was left from mine into his and tucked the empty one into his shirt pocket. “Try not to get yourself killed while I’m gone.”

  I took one step before he grabbed my arm and snapped me back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To get information. You really should keep up.”

  “Not without me.”

  I laughed, and then his eyes darkened. Holy shit, he was serious. “I don’t think so.”

  “Is that him?” he asked, nodding toward Tomás. “Is that your fiancé?” He growled the word with such contempt, I found myself torn between being wanting to laugh in his face and wanting to kick his ass.

  I settled for jerking out of his hold and crossing my arms over my chest. “Ex-fiancé, and no. That’s a random bartender. However, he’s taking me to Cristiano’s office.”

  “Then I’m definitely going.”

  “Okay, pump your brakes, caveman. I can handle this myself. Besides, if you think a Muñoz associate is going to say shit with you in the room, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

  I realized that was probably the wrong thing to say the minute his face turned blood red and a vein in the middle of his forehead started pulsing. “He’s a fucking Muñoz?” he roared. “Are you crazy?”

  “Would you keep your voice down?” I hissed. “Yes, but he’s not a part of this.”

  “You can’t be that stupid.”

  This fucker wants to die tonight.

  “Look, gringo,” I warned, jabbing a sharp nail into his chest. “Cris would never hurt me or betray me. I’m safe with him.”

  “So now he’s Cris, huh?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Dios mío, I can’t win with you.”

  “¿Vas a venir hoy?” Are you coming today?

  I glanced over my shoulder to where Tomás impatiently tapped his toe. Shit. I’d forgotten all about him. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I steadied my voice, leaving no room for argument. “Look, this might be our only chance to find out where Ignacio is hiding. Don’t screw this up for me, Brody. You’re not the only one who has a score to settle.”

  He stared at me before finally exhaling a hard breath through his nose. “If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”

  I didn’t say anything. What was the use? He’d only argue and waste more time. Besides, I knew his threat was empty. Cristiano had guards stationed at every possible entrance to the second level. He’d never make it past the dance floor.

  Without another word, I walked away, following Tomás through a secured doorway, down three darkened hallways, and into a familiar elevator that let us out in front of an ominous black door.

  He stopped so suddenly I almost barreled into the back of him. “I need a name.”

  I blinked up at him
, debating what to say. The one on my tongue burned and to speak it out loud felt like serving myself up on an altar of the damned. But, to cross that threshold, I knew there was only one answer. “Marisol.”

  “Stay here,” he instructed as he knocked an intricate code on the door and waited. Eventually, the door clicked, and he disappeared inside.

  I hated the way my stomach seesawed back and forth while I waited for him to return. A few moments later, the door opened, and Tomás nodded. “Go on in.”

  Blowing out a nervous breath, I pushed my shoulders back and moved past him, the words I assured Brody now singing in my ear like a taunting child.

  “Cris would never hurt me or betray me. I’m safe with him.”

  However, the moment I stepped into his office, my past circled around me.

  It watched.

  It waited.

  And then it swallowed me whole.

  “Marisol Muñoz. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Adriana

  Cristiano Vergara sat behind a sleek black desk, his elbows propped on the arms of his chair and his fingers steepled together under his chin. He looked older. Colder. Iniquitous with a razor edge that sent a chill down my spine. His eyes, the same ones that hypnotized me as an impetuous young girl, now held me immobile in the open doorway as a grown woman. Blue as the ocean with a depth that hid just as many secrets, they ripped back the layers of time as if they never existed.

  Forcing my body to relax, I cocked my hip against the doorframe and shrugged the opposite shoulder. “I like to make an entrance.” My confidence sounded weak, but there was no turning back now.

  Cristiano raised a dark eyebrow. “You always did. But a man has his limits, Mari. My patience isn’t infinite.”

  I swallowed hard, trying not to cringe at that name.

  “Well, you know what they say, good things come to those who wait.”

  “Do you also know what they say happens when a woman keeps a man waiting?”

  I flashed him a wicked grin. “She holds all the cards?”

  “He reflects on her shortcomings.” His familiar eyes flashed, sending an unspoken message. Our past granted me certain privileges, but my silence set limitations.

  At the end of the day, a Carrera was still a Carrera.

  My name was a ticking time bomb, and that was why I pushed past his blatant intimidation and walked into his office with conviction, closing the door behind me. Standing in front of his desk, I glanced down at the wingback chair beside me with disdain. It was just a chair but lowering myself in front of him created uneven ground. So instead, I braced my palms on the edge of his desk and slid on top of it, crossing my legs with a wink.

  The permanent scowl he wore in response to my defiance was remorseless and calculating. He looked decades older than his twenty-four years, and that was what made him so dangerous. Tall, muscular, with skin dark enough to earn a rank but light enough to raise an eyebrow. Men let their guard down around him because he didn’t look the part. He looked more like an underwear model than a ruthless killer. Underestimating him was always their downfall.

  “It appears good news travels fast.”

  He didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “They’re looking for you,” he said, lowering his hands. “It took balls to come here.”

  “Yet, you knew I would.”

  That earned me a ghost of a smile. “A tiger doesn’t change her stripes. It doesn’t matter what ambush she belongs to.”

  Underestimating Cristiano was both a mistake and an asset. No one on Earth knew me like he did, which gave him the unique ability to anticipate my moves before I made them. Five minutes ago, I would’ve sworn on my life he’d never use that power against me, but now, I wasn’t so sure.

  My hands clenched the edge of the desk, and I looked away. “Am I that predictable?”

  “No, you’re that proud. And a fighter. I knew you’d come to clear your name eventually.”

  It was time to address the elephant in the room. Twisting around, I braced a hand behind me and held his stare. “Speaking of which, I go by Adriana now, not Marisol.” I held my breath, bracing for the storm to roll across his face, only to find an indecent smile.

  “So I’ve heard.” Leaning forward, his smile widened. “Kind of scandalous to know I slept with the enemy for so many years.”

  “Nothing about this is funny, Cris.”

  “I know.” His voice lowered, his smile fading. “I told you, I’ve heard.” A sudden rustling drew my glance down to a stack of papers mangled in his clenched fist. “If I ever get my hands on the man who touched you—”

  I laid my hand over his fist. “You won’t do a damn thing. This is my fight, not yours.”

  Cristiano’s eyes went unfocused, and his face pinched together. For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far. But as soon as they opened, the icy blue flooded with warmth, and the lines in his face turned downward.

  Moving his hand out from under mine, he pushed out of his chair and paced. I couldn’t help but smile as he dove a hand in his hair, tugging at the brown strands until they pointed in every direction except the ones they were meant to. The ritual was so familiar that it was almost comforting. This was the Cristiano I knew. This was the one who would help me.

  I watched and waited until his frantic pacing came to a stop right in front of me. Pulling back, he studied me. “How are you?”

  I snorted. “Oh, just great. Escaping certain death by my own men kicked off one hell of a summer but kissing a man’s ass who I was groomed my whole life to hate really enhanced the excitement.”

  “Mari…”

  “But the biggest thrill has come from fighting an invisible man who’s decided to stir up a pot of shit soup and slap my name on it.” I clapped my hands together for dramatic effect.

  He engulfed my wrists between two strong inked hands and gave me a pointed look. “I’m not talking about that, and you know it. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I dropped my head back. “If you don’t believe me, then why ask?”

  “Stay with me.”

  I laughed out loud. “Yeah, okay.” Sliding off the desk, I tried to pull away from him when his grip tightened, his serious expression taking me off guard.

  “I have connections. People who can get you to the top of—”

  “No!” I yelled, jerking away from him, his eyes narrowing at the force of my outburst. Shit. He’d taken this conversation to a place I refused to go. I needed to redirect it back on track before he forced me to sever what little connection we had left. Palming my forehead, I let out a frustrated breath. “Look, Cris, I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I know.”

  “Then stop arguing with me and help me stop this pendejo.”

  He crossed his arms, his stare evasive. “Even if I know something, what makes you think I’ll tell you? After all, El Palacio is still a Muñoz front.”

  “Because a lion doesn’t stop protecting his mate just because she left the pride,” I said, throwing his own metaphor in his face.

  I waited. For what, I wasn’t sure. For an argument? For vindication? For the door to be slammed in my face? What I got was a genuine smile as he shook his head in concession. “This is new,” he said, running a lock of my red wig through his fingers.

  I grinned. “Do you like it?”

  “No, but it definitely matches your temper.” Tapping me on the nose, he leaned against the edge of his desk. “So, what do you know so far?”

  Now it was my turn to pace. “His name is Ignacio. I know he has hijacked at least three Carrera shipments worth over thirty million. I know the Carreras captured one of the men who pulled the Chicago job.” Stopping to take a breath, I turned on my heels and launched into more word vomit. “His name was José Rojas, and yes, that’s in the past tense because he’s dead. He was the asshole with my name in his mouth who set
this whole thing in motion. I also know this Ignacio fucker scared the shit out of Leo Pinellas enough to put a gun in his own mouth right in front of me.”

  “You have been busy,” he noted, stroking his chin.

  I groaned, my nerves almost shot. “Cris…”

  Closing the distance between us, he settled a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know who he is or his last name.” He tipped my chin up, and I met with eyes so serious I had to remind myself to breathe. “But I can tell you to stop chasing ghosts and start opening up closets. They’re full of skeletons that have been locked up for a long time.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “This isn’t about an outsider coming in to take over. This is a vendetta. You want to find the truth? You need to look in your own backyard.”

  “How would you know something like that?” I swallowed hard, not sure what I was more afraid of—his silence or his answer.

  He didn’t answer, and we stared at each other in silence, the words he said breaking apart and piecing back together in my head

  “I don’t—” Still in a daze, my voice trailed off as distant shouting drew my attention toward the closed door. Maybe subconsciously, I knew, and that was why I waited, listening as they grew closer and louder until finally capped off by the sound of bone hitting bone and a muffled grunt.

  I should’ve reacted faster.

  I should’ve held my ground with Cristiano.

  I should’ve done a lot of things.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I stood there like a statue as the door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it and then bouncing back into an open palm.

  An open palm attached to an arm wearing a black button up soaked with Johnnie Walker Blue.

  “Your ten minutes are up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brody

  The command may have been directed at Adriana, but my eyes never left the asshole with his hands all over her. Rage tore through me, my hands fisting by my side itching to take another swing. Coming here was risky, if not suicidal. I had a feeling not too many Muñoz men would dare bulldoze their way into this guy’s office, let alone a Carrera.