Blurred Red Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel

by Kenborn, Cora

  I raised an eyebrow, still pissed off at being left behind. “Have you been reading fortune cookies, Danger?”

  A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “It’s a famous quote. It means Manuel will be expecting me to retaliate right now. He’ll be waiting for it—prepared for it, even. The risk of failure would be huge. Lulling him into a false sense of security, even convincing him I’d blurred the battle lines a little, is the key.”

  Then it hit me what he planned on doing. “Oh, my God. You’re going to make them think you’re burying the hatchet, aren’t you?”

  Another kiss, and he backed away from the Tahoe. “Interesting choice of words, Cereza. After Esteban Muñoz had my mother shot, his men carved out her heart and delivered it to him.”

  The one chip I’d eaten with Mateo threatened to come up as I slapped my hand across my mouth and mumbled through my fingers. “Val, don’t go. Please, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  Leaning against the doorframe, he nodded to Mateo. “I have to go.”

  “Val!”

  “You’ll have your justice, Eden, and I’ll have mine.”

  The sheer square footage of Alejandro Carrera’s estate was mind-blowing, but the ornate detail work in the framework above all the archways and molding indicated just what a self-indulgent, pompous asshole the man was. Mirrors covered every wall as if he couldn’t walk two feet without stopping to admire himself. I almost gave myself a headache from all the constant eye rolling it involuntarily pulled from me.

  Feeling stifled from the overwhelming presence of such a narcissistic man, I searched for an escape. I needed air, and I needed it now. I breathed a sigh of relief when my eyes landed on intricate brushed gold French doors that led out onto a terrace.

  Thank God for small favors.

  As I reached for the handle, a hand with thick, rough fingers grabbed me around my upper arm. “Miss Lachey, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  Whipping around, my hand immediately flew to my leg, fingering the gun holster that sat nestled on my inner thigh. Once I recognized him, my eyes widened, then narrowed. “Jesus, Joaquin. You think you could wear a cowbell or something? You scared the shit out of me.”

  “A cowbell, señorita? I don’t understand.”

  “Forget it,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m just going to get some air.”

  “We have air here.” Motioning around us with both hands, he took an exaggerated deep breath.

  Oh, great. Val left me in the care of a fucking comedian.

  Joaquin Salazar was a new soldier in Alejandro’s army. He was what Val explained was in limbo between something called a falcon and a sicario. A falcon was somewhat of a watchdog—the eyes and ears on the street—and the lowest ranking man in a cartel. One step up from that, a sicario, or a hitman, was part of the armed group who carried out the assassinations, kidnappings, and real dangerous shit for the higher-ups.

  Joaquin had proven his worth in an attempt made on Alejandro’s life near Guadalajara nearly six months ago, but hadn’t yet risen in the ranks enough to qualify for a place at the sit-down with Val and the other lieutenants. As a consolation prize, he qualified as my shadow.

  Lucky me.

  “Look, Kevin Hart, I realize you’re just following orders, but if you don’t get out of my face and let me walk onto this terrace to get some air by myself—you and me—we’re going to have a problem. Do you get what I’m telling you?”

  “Who is this Kevin Hart? Is he new? Mateo told me nothing of another guard.”

  Screaming in frustration, I grabbed the sides of my hair and gritted my teeth. “Go. Away.”

  “But, señorita—”

  “Joaquin, do you have children?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Do you want to?”

  He blinked slowly before answering. “Someday.”

  “Then I suggest you leave before I tie your nuts in such small knots, you’ll never shoot another load the rest of your life.”

  I’d never seen a man move so fast in my life. One minute he was there, the next—gone.

  Men were so easy. One threat to the boys and they folded like a cheap house of cards.

  Outside the walls of that monstrous house, I finally began to breathe again. Sinking into a plush outdoor recliner, I put my feet up and enjoyed the impressive view of the city lights.

  The long trip, coupled with the stress of worrying about Val and what he’d walked into, finally wore on me, and my eyelids closed a heavy curtain over the world.

  I had no idea how long I’d slept until a crash from inside woke me with a jolt of adrenaline. Muted voices carried through the house as my pulse picked up a furious tempo.

  “Joaquin?”

  Attempting to keep a level head, I stood up and tilted my chin over the railing.

  Hell, no. Three stories down would not end well for me.

  My gaze landed back on the French doors as the same sense of dread settled in the center of my stomach and burst into tiny shards of resignation.

  Swallowing hard, I ran my hand up my thigh and used my thumb to unsnap the holder on the handgun Val had given me before putting me in the Tahoe. Holding it tight, with the chamber loaded and my finger on the trigger, I opened the glass door.

  “Joaquin? Are you awake?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  VAL

  Silence filled the room as all eyes stared blankly at me, then ping-ponged around from rank to rank, verifying they’d heard me correctly and hadn’t hallucinated.

  And I was very fucking serious.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Hell yes, there’s a problem,” Guzman yelled, standing up and slamming his fist down on the worn wooden table. The table had seen many of these same meetings take place around it over the years. It’d seen arguments, deals being made, and even its fair share of bloodshed; the evidence still stained some of the crevices. “This is suicide, Valentin.”

  “For whom exactly?”

  “For all of us,” he bellowed, gesturing around the table at the dozens of men flanking him. “We served loyally under your father. We have a long-standing war with the Muñoz cartel. They killed your mother, sister, and aunt, for fuck’s sake.”

  Hearing him speak their names did something to me, and I pummeled my fist onto his spread hand. “I know that, asshole. You don’t have to remind me. I was there, remember?”

  With a howl, he pulled his hand back, recoiling into his chair. “You’ve gone soft, Carrera. You’ve been in the states too long. You don’t remember what real life is like in the ranks.”

  “The only thing soft is your dick, Guzman. Now, sit down, and shut the fuck up, before you really piss me off.”

  Glaring, his eyes darkened as he held his injured hand against his chest.

  “A little over the top, don’t you think?” Mateo muttered under his breath beside me, his eyes questioning my actions.

  “Probably,” I conceded. “But the bastard has had it coming for years.”

  Gerardo Guzman had been my father’s second-in-command for over a decade. When I joined the cartel at age sixteen, it was automatically understood within the ranks that, as the heir apparent, I’d one day inherit the empire. I could tell as the years went by, it bothered Guzman, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and his head down.

  “Something else to say, Guzman?”

  “No, boss. Just like to stay informed.”

  If I wasn’t hell bent on getting home to Eden, I might’ve pushed the issue with him. As it stood, I was just fucking tired. I wanted a warm bed, some good tequila, and to be nestled in between Eden’s thighs. I had no time or energy to waste on bruised egos.

  “As I said, there’ll be no retaliation right now, but when the time comes, it’ll be on my terms. Now, if there are no more comments, I’ll explain why we’re twenty-two million dollars in debt, and why…” I paused and looked each man in the eye before continuing, “…four buildings went up in flames, and we narrowly escaped all
of them with our lives.”

  “We?” One of the newer lieutenants asked.

  “Yes, ‘we,’” I snapped. “As in me, two of my top lieutenants, and a prisoner. Shut up for a minute, and I’ll tell you about her and why I think my father was so interested in her.” Preparing myself for the bomb I was about to drop, I shot Mateo a side glance and curled my finger around the trigger of my gun under the table. “Then, I can tell you to fuck off if she interests you in any way.”

  “The fuck?”

  “You heard me, Guzman.”

  A low rumble of voices milled around the room, and I waited for it to die down before I commanded their attention. “I’m speaking!” All eyes turned my way as silence replaced the incessant chatter. “Somehow Manuel Muñoz infiltrated a drug debt in Houston, causing my men to torture an innocent man. Afterward, Muñoz sicarios executed him.”

  “So? Innocent death happens.” The new lieutenant snorted with annoyance. “What do we care?”

  My trigger finger itched to shove it under his chin. “We care, because shit is different in America, you fucking idiot. Mistakes like that could bring down our whole operation.” His jaw tightened in anger, but stopped talking. “As I was saying, the innocent man’s sister witnessed the hit.”

  The thought of Eden, hiding in the back of that kitchen as her brother died, filled me with indescribable anger, and I felt my entire body clench as the muscles in my neck twitched. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mateo rake his eyes down my stiffened form and take over.

  “This girl, she’s a close friend and employee of one of our highest-ranking lieutenants in Houston. By our own code, we had to act fast, so we took her before Muñoz guns could. Unfortunately, by a betrayal unknown to her, she’d been tracked by a GPS. In turn, Valentin’s whereabouts were known at all times.”

  “And this puta is still alive, after all that?”

  “Do not call her a puta!” I’d had enough. My nerves were shot, and the one thing I wouldn’t tolerate was anyone disrespecting Eden. Pulling my gun, I grabbed Guzman by the front of his shirt and shoved the tip against his cheek. “You will never call her a puta again. Her name is Eden. However, you will refer to her as Miss Lachey, ma’am, or señorita, are we clear?”

  “Jesus, fine.” He raised his palms as my chest heaved. Releasing him, he sank back down into his seat. Glaring, he picked up the shot of tequila sitting in front of him and held it against his mouth. “Fuck, man, you’d think you had a hard-on for this chick or something.”

  Loosening two buttons at the top of my shirt, I drank my own shot glass sitting in front of me.

  I needed to stay in control. I couldn’t risk showing my hand too early to my men. My father ruled this cartel with an iron fist, and despite the fact he was a heartless bastard, every one of these lieutenants respected the hell out of him and followed him blindly. I needed the same level of loyalty from them to change the future of the Carrera name.

  Letting them know I planned to bring an American into our world wouldn’t win me any favors right now.

  “I know you all want revenge for the attack on my father.” A chorus of ‘fuck yeahs’ drowned out my speech, and I paused to let them have their moment before continuing. “And, trust me, you all will have your opportunity. If anyone has reason for a vendetta, it’s me. The Muñoz cartel has murdered my entire family. No one wants their heads more than me, but when we ruin them, I want all of them. I want their territory and all their producers and suppliers. I want it all.” Another round of ‘fuck yeahs’ and cheers echoed off the walls. “To do that, we have to be smart and bide our time. You all must trust me and my judgment to plan the end of the Muñoz cartel. The one question left is…are you with me, or against me?”

  After a moment or two of silence, Mateo stood up, his gun in his right hand, crossed over his chest, and placed over his heart. “Allegiance until death. Carrera pledge to new boss, Valentin Carrera.”

  Another man stood next. “Allegiance until death to Valentin Carrera.”

  Four more men stood. “Allegiance until death to Valentin Carrera.”

  One by one, every lieutenant stood and repeated the same words, until every eye landed on the only man still seated.

  Finally, his eyes pulled tight at the corners, Guzman stood. “Allegiance until death.”

  I nodded in acceptance of their devotion. “One more thing. If any of you lay one finger on Eden Lachey, I’ll see each of you hanged, beheaded, then spiked in front of your own houses. She’s mine.”

  Fuck it. They already pledged allegiance.

  * * *

  I’d had enough tequila an hour ago.

  The men wanted to celebrate, and Mateo kicked me under the table when I opened my mouth to tell them to kiss my ass. A few bottles later, stories about my father had been told, and I’d lost count at how many times I rolled my eyes.

  Glancing at my watch, I finally stood up. “We reconvene tomorrow. Dismissed, men.”

  Twenty minutes later, most of them had dispersed to local cantinas to continue the celebration. Mateo left to pull the car around, leaving me and Guzman outside the plain adobe building. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I’d just punched in the number to the new phone I’d given Eden, when a voice behind me snarled in my ear.

  “I’ll never follow you. This is my cartel, you spoiled brat.” My knuckles cracked around the phone as his gun pressed against the back of my head. “You think you can just show up after six years and take what I’ve spent ten years kissing ass to claim? Fuck you, and your warnings.”

  “Pulling the trigger would be suicide, and you know it, Guzman. You were my father’s second. You, above anyone, should’ve known how this would play out when he died.”

  “What I know, you over-privileged little shit, is that you’ll get one thing you want.”

  I had to stall him. With a gun to the back of my head, he had the upper hand. My mind raced with any situation that’d end with my brains not being sprayed across the side of the building.

  “And what’s that, Guzman? Your dick, bronzed and on my mantle?”

  His calm chuckle unnerved me. “You and your American puta will be together forever.”

  “How do you figure?”

  He lowered his voice and leaned in close, the alcohol on his breath invading my nostrils. “Manuel Muñoz has probably slit her from throat to pussy by now.”

  It was as if a cold hand reached inside my chest, squeezed my heart, ripped it out still beating, and held it in front of my face. I couldn’t breathe, fighting through a numbness that overtook any emotion I’d found in recent weeks.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Think so? It’s a shame he had to rip that sexy, little black number to shreds when he gutted her. I’ll admit, she looked hot in it. I must know, Valentin, is it true? Does the carpet match the drapes?”

  I saw red. I didn’t care about stalling. I didn’t care about anything but getting to Eden.

  “Motherfucker!” I landed a sharp elbow into his stomach, immediately getting rewarded with a forceful grunt as he doubled over. Taking advantage of his vulnerable position, I twisted and grabbed the wrist holding the gun. Regaining his footing, he cursed, slamming me into the side of the building. Still holding his wrist with my left hand, I grabbed his throat with the right. “What did you do to her, you piece of shit traitor? If Muñoz touched her, I’ll see you both in hell!”

  He coughed as a sadistic smile crept along his face. “You’re not the only one who knows how to forge alliances, boy. You take from me, little Val, and I take from you.”

  The images in my mind swirled a torrid mix of blind rage and indescribable pain. Past and present raced toward one point in time and collided. The six-year old boy in me, and the twenty-nine-year old man I’d become, converged and imploded as history repeated itself before my eyes.

  Everything moved in slow motion. Guzman landed a punch to my stomach, causing me to loosen my hold on his throat. Gaining leverage, he wrestled the gun out
of my grasp. Seeing the gun tucked in my waistband, he tossed it behind him, then aimed his own gun at my chest.

  “Your old man fought me, too, Valentin. I wonder if I’ll get the same pleasure in watching you bleed out?” Steadying his hand, he tightened his finger around the trigger.

  Without a weapon to protect myself, I held his gaze and waited. The last thing I’d do on this earth wouldn’t be giving this asshole the satisfaction of looking away while he killed me. An arrogant smile lifted the edges of his thick mustache as the gun went off, the blast echoing in my ears long after the shot rang out.

  My last thought was of Eden. I wish I could’ve said goodbye. Without a doubt, I knew we weren’t headed to the same place. She’d have everlasting life. I’d burn for eternity.

  I waited for the pain…the blood…the coldness that told me I’d left this world.

  None of it happened.

  I ran my hands over my still dry shirt when I noticed blood seeping from the corners of Guzman’s mouth. Frozen in the darkness, I watched as his eyes rolled back in his head moments before his knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground.

  Tearing my fixated stare away, I glanced up to see Mateo standing behind him, his arm extended, and smoke still fuming from his gun. His eyes were a dangerous black with a depth of hatred I’d never seen from him.

  “Mateo?”

  “When we take our pledge, we do it with honor.” Looking down at Guzman’s lifeless body, he spit on him without remorse. “A man is nothing without honor. Death is mercy for a traitor.”

  There was more to say, but it’d have to wait for another time. Only one thing burned in my mind.

  Eden.

  “Car, Mateo. Where’s the car?”

  He pointed around the building. “Across the street. What’s happened?” Following behind me, he nodded toward Guzman. “Should I call a cleaner?”

  “Fuck it,” I growled. “Let it be a message. Leave him for whatever wild animal gives a shit enough to eat him.” Grabbing my gun off the ground, I hit the speed dial button to Eden’s number and cursed as it rang repeatedly with no answer. “Damn it!” Disconnecting the call, I hit redial, and got the same result.