Upon arrival at the hospital, the hospital personnel took one look at my battered, bruised body and blood-soaked dress and freaked. After refusing to shut up until I allowed a doctor to examine me, I gave in and filled out paper work that I knew would disappear in less than an hour. They taped two cracked ribs, gave me a chest x-ray, stitched my face and wrists, gave me a tetanus shot, and prescribed a round of antibiotics. Even after much bitching on my part, they bagged my dress and handed it to me, offering either a hospital gown or a pair of ugly green scrubs.
So, here I stood, in army green scrubs two sizes too big.
“It’s a good thing, Eden. As long as he’s in surgery, it means we aren’t getting bad news, yeah?”
Okay, that was one way to look at it.
Two hours later, exhaustion had won out and forced me back into the waiting room. As the clock ticked off the minutes, tears ran down my cheeks…the product of hours of bottled up fear and anxiety.
Glancing at me quickly, Mateo said nothing as he took my hand in his and held it securely.
I’d never been one for public displays of affection, but I’d never been more grateful for anyone in my life. I felt like I stood balanced on the edge of a cliff, the balls of my feet teetering over the edge with every roll of my toes. One crack of a joint, and it’d be all over.
The door to the waiting room flew open, and I almost snapped my neck jumping to my feet. What I came face-to-face with was Emilio Reyes.
“Where is he? Is he all right? When can I see him?”
“Get him out.” The words sounded like they came from someone else. A man. A heavy smoker. A demon straight out of hell.
“Eden!” Mateo scolded.
“What the hell is she talking about?”
“She”—I bit out through clenched teeth—“has finally been pushed too far. She has realized, regardless of the fact that you didn’t pull the trigger, you willingly tortured her brother. And she lost every bit of reservation she ever had against shoving a gun straight up your ass and pulling the trigger when she killed a man tonight.” I stalked forward as he backed up, swallowing hard. “So, I suggest you get out of my sight.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” Emilio shot a pleading look at Mateo, who shrugged and returned to the magazine he’d been reading.
“Have I?”
“You don’t just walk into a cartel and start throwing your smart mouth around—”
“Listen, you arrogant shithead—”
“The family of Valentin Carrera?”
With five words, the brewing argument between Emilio and me stopped cold. Stepping forward, I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “That’s us.”
The doctor nodded in acknowledgement. “Very well. My name is Dr. Kirkland, and I was the lead surgeon on your…” His voice trailed off as his eyes bounced between the three of us.
“Brother,” Mateo answered, pressing a light hand to my lower back. “He’s our brother.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow and ran a disbelieving eye over my pale skin, blue eyes, and red hair.
Good one, Mateo.
Shaking his head, he continued. “Your brother suffered massive internal injuries to his liver. Those kinds of gunshot wounds are serious because the liver is highly vascularized and close to multiple large blood vessels. If a bullet hits one or more of the large vessels, a victim can bleed to death rather quickly. Even if a major vessel isn't severed, a liver laceration bleeds heavily, and it isn't always easy to get it to stop.”
“What are you saying?” I whispered, a sharp ringing building in my ears.
The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “Luckily, only a small part of your brother’s liver was damaged, Ms. Carrera. The organ is highly regenerative. We were able to tie it off and repair surrounding damage.”
“He’s okay?”
Patting my hand, he tugged off his scrub hat and nodded. “He’s sedated right now and will be in substantial pain when he wakes up, but yes, he’s going to be okay. Give him an hour or so to recover, and you can see him one at a time.”
In a hospital waiting room in Houston.
In a pair of ugly green scrubs.
I hit the floor on my knees and prayed for the first time since I was fourteen.
* * *
I thought I’d prepared myself for what I’d find when I opened the door to Val’s hospital room.
I was wrong.
Wires, tubes, bandages, and his beautiful bronzed skin, now pale and ashen gray almost took me to the floor. Val Carrera stood as a giant among men. He spoke and people scattered. His name was murmured in quiet tones, for fear of conjuring the wrath of a killer.
But to me, he was neither a giant nor a killer. He was the man who’d crossed borders to rescue me. He was the man who almost gave his life to save my own.
Valentin Carrera was my hero.
Somehow, I forced my feet to obey and carry me to his bedside. For far longer than I cared to rationalize, I stood above him, listening to him breathe. In the dingy basement, I’d searched so hard for the slightest breath that the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest comforted me like nothing had since I ran out of Caliente.
Lowering into the chair beside his bed, the beep of the machine synced with my heartbeat as I held his hand and pressed my cheek against the mattress. “Hey, Danger. You scared the hell out of me. What was with the superhero act, huh? You told me you were a criminal and a bad guy—someone people should fear and run from.” Rolling my lips inward, I pressed them against the skin on his arm as tears I had no idea I had left rolled down the other side of it. “There’s no fear, Val. Only love. I’m not running from you anymore. I’m running toward you. Wake up and catch me.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
VAL
“I’m running toward you. Wake up and catch me.”
Why the hell did it feel like I was climbing a ladder in a lake full of quicksand? The higher I climbed, the farther I sank, with each step more and more difficult to take.
She was near. That much I knew. Either that, or I was fucking hallucinating her voice.
“Cere…” My voice broke, the inside of my throat feeling like I’d chewed and swallowed a handful of broken glass.
“That’s it, Danger. Come back to me.”
A surge of white light burned my eyes as I finally climbed to the top of the ladder. “Cereza?”
Her soft hand cradled my face, the familiar scent of citrus and vanilla immediately calming my nerves. “I’m here, Val. Take your time. Don’t make any sudden movements, all right?”
I blinked, taking in the stark, sterile room. “Where am I? What happened?”
“You’re in Houston Methodist.”
“Hospital?” The word settled in the base of my brain as the entire night came rushing back in a heated panic. Holding her forearm with my IVed hand and taking a strong grip on her cheek with the other, I winced at the intense pain that shot through me. “Eden, are you all right?” I forced myself to look her over. “If he hurt you, I’ll fucking kill him.”
She lowered my hands, a serious look crossing her face. “Calm down, Carrera. Mission accomplished.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Something had changed about her. She seemed calmer, wiser, a hell of a lot more self-assured, and maybe even a touch cocky. A hardness lined the corners of her mouth that wasn’t there before I walked into that basement.
I always swore Eden Lachey didn’t belong in my world. From the look in her eyes and the ruthless smile that curved the corners of her lips, I wasn’t so sure now.
“What did you do, Eden?”
“Shooting cans is easy, Val,” she said with a knowing glint in her eye. “You just hold the gun on your target, allow your finger to barely touch the trigger, and let it go limp.”
As she threw my own words back in my face, I knew immediately what she’d done. I looked away, not wanting to hear her say it any more than she wanted to admit it.
She’d murdered
Manuel Muñoz.
Still, her supreme smugness drove me to point out one glaring omission she seemed to gloss over. “Eden, Marisol Muñoz is still out there.”
Acknowledging me with a curt nod, Eden intertwined our fingers, turning them so her palm faced up. “Marisol Muñoz won’t be a problem. Call it women’s intuition, whatever you want. She said it herself; she doesn’t have the stomach for the rough stuff. She’s a planner. Without an army, she’s nothing.”
“Cereza, she has an entire cartel.”
She shook her head defiantly. “No, Manuel had an entire cartel. Why do you think she hid behind him the entire time? Do you seriously think all those men would pledge their allegiance to a woman who couldn’t even stay in the same room to witness her biggest enemy’s execution? I don’t think so. No, she’s in the wind.”
Fuck, I loved that woman’s mind. “You’re kind of brilliant, Eden Lachey.”
“Aw, you’re just saying that because it’s true.” Flashing a devoted smile, she squeezed our hands.
“Get your ass in this bed,” I commanded, pulling the sheet back.
Her brows pulled together as she glanced around at the wires hooked up to me. “I don’t know, Val. The bullet tore your liver. You were in surgery a long time. I don’t want to bruise anything.”
“The only thing you’re going to bruise is my ego if you don’t get that hot ass beside me, Cereza.”
Moving slowly, she snuggled in, taking care to keep her weight off me. I ran my fingers through her hair as she played with the frayed edges of my hospital gown. “Val, can I ask you a question?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Why was Brody with you? How do you know him, and how did you find me? I was out most of the time, but I know we were in a car and a plane, then a boat. Eventually we crossed the border to that god-awful house in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way you found that by accident.”
I debated on whether to tell her the truth, then decided what we went through in that basement had given us a clean slate. Lying to her would only taint it. Taking her questions one at a time, I explained my relationship with Brody Harcourt, and how he used his connections to track her to the rural house that didn’t exist.
Reaching under the neckline of the ugly scrubs she wore, I pulled out the broken Santa Muerte pendent and tapped it. “GPS.”
As she glanced down at the pendant in my hands she shook her head and frowned. “You tracked me like a dog too? What the fuck is wrong with you, Val?”
Raising a hand, I effectively silenced her. “You can be mad at me all you want, but I won’t be sorry. You were volatile before we left, and I couldn’t take the risk of something happening to you. Besides,” I said, giving it one last tap, before letting it drop back down against her taped ribs. “It saved your life.”
She sat silent for a moment. I watched her, waiting for the eventual curve of a smile that told me I was forgiven. Eden never stayed mad at me for long.
Yet, the longer the muscles in her jaw tightened, the more rattled I became. In any other situation, we’d argue, throw shit, hurl insults, then fuck the mad out of each other until we couldn’t walk. That’s just the way Eden and I worked.
But, lying in a hospital bed, with a newly-closed gash healing above my stomach, sex was off the table. I didn’t know how to reach her, and I didn’t like it. “Eden?”
“I’m still mad at you,” she finally offered, running the pad of her thumb across the top of mine. “But I don’t have a good argument for what you said. You’re right. It did save my life, and I guess I should be grateful.”
“Damn right you should.”
She fought a smile. “Don’t push it.”
I studied her face as a piece of candy-red hair fell across her eye. Pushing it back, her gaze lowered to the wires protruding from my chest. If anyone had told me a month ago—hell, a week ago—I’d have made the risky decisions I did to be with her, I’d have laughed in their face. I’d been a man who built a reputation on fear and destruction. Emotional attachments had no place in my world and only served to weaken me. I’d never missed something I’d never had.
The second Eden Lachey stormed into my life, something inside me knew I’d never be the same. As volatile as our circumstances were, I knew she’d be the one to get in and make me question everything I’d ever known. After touching her for the first time, I vowed I'd never be denied the light she brought to my darkness or the morality she crossed with my wickedness.
For her, I would and did risk it all.
Suppressing a groan from the searing pain tearing across my abdomen, I twisted a hand around her hair and tugged her down to me. “Come here, Cereza.”
“Val…” She pulled back gently, bracing a hand on the mattress. “You just got out of surgery. Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“What I think,” I growled, impatiently, “is that you’ve been taken from me for too long. I’m owed this.”
“Well, as long as you have a good reason.” Laughing softly, she held her weight on her arms as she lowered her lips and gently pressed them against mine.
Oh, hell no.
Tightening my fingers in her hair, I forced her lips open and tasted every inch of her mouth. It was like coming home.
Breaking the kiss, she rested her forehead against mine. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“Don’t ever leave me like that again.”
We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us speaking, until she glanced toward the door. “Mateo is probably pacing outside like a caged animal. I guess I should give him his turn with you.”
“Wait.” I grabbed her arm, holding her inquisitive stare. “You need to call Janine. We may not have a physical building anymore, but RVC is still an operational company for now.”
Her eyebrows lifted in question. “Why would I call Janine?”
“To put your townhouse on the market. You’ve got to find a buyer before we leave.”
“Leave? Where are we going, Val?”
She couldn’t be serious. After all we’d been through, she had to know it’d come to this. “Eden, when I get out of here, I’m moving back to Mexico. My men need me there to run the day-to-day operations.” I searched her face for signs of understanding. “I thought you knew this. In Mexico, you asked me if I came to take over the cartel.”
“But, I thought after everything happened with Manuel and Marisol…I just thought…”
“Cereza, we’ve cut off the head of the dragon, but it doesn’t mean it won’t grow another one. The Muñoz Cartel won’t lay down and die just because Manuel did. This is my life and my legacy. I can’t turn my back on it.” Her blue eyes reddened as she dropped my hand. Warning sirens raged in my ears and my chest tightened. “Eden, I need you with me. I can’t do this without you.”
With tears spilling down her face, she wrapped her arms protectively around her chest. “I killed a man, Val. I sold my soul to get revenge for my brother. I got it, but I don’t feel any better. I thought I’d have this weight lifted off my shoulders once Manuel was dead, but instead it’s gotten heavier. It almost destroyed me when Nash died, and when I thought I’d lost you. I’d convinced myself I could eventually deal with it because everything was over, but you’re asking me to live with that worry on a daily basis. I can’t…I can’t do that.”
I couldn’t think straight. I’d lay down my life for her, and she was walking away from me. As she pulled back, I grabbed her arm, my heart racing. “What are you saying, Eden?”
“My home is in Houston, Val. We can have a good life here.”
“What life, Cereza? Who’s left here for you? You have no family.”
A sad look crossed her face at the same time as a dejected smile dusted her lips. “I am. I’m stronger than I was before, and I have you to thank for that. I’ve learned to depend on no one but myself and that will protect me for the rest of my life. The word family doesn’t exist for me anymore, Val. Families protect each
other no matter what the cost. For my father, the price was too high.” Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on my lips again. “Te amo.”
Moving off the bed, she walked toward the door and out of my life.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
SIX WEEKS LATER
EDEN
“Thanks, Janine.” Tucking the phone under my chin, I reached for a white wine glass from overhead. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be by in the morning to sign the papers. I appreciate everything. Have a good weekend.”
Dropping the phone on the counter, the hardware store flashed in my mind. Earlier in the morning, I’d cleaned out the last box at the store and turned the key, locking the door to my past and the last reminder of the cursed Lachey legacy. The new CEO and liaison at RVC Enterprises, Janine Banfield, worked relentlessly and found a buyer for Lachey Hardware who was willing to pay close to my full asking price. The money would be enough that I could take a little time for myself before selling everything else I owned.
I had no idea where I’d move, but my home held nothing but memories for me—some bad, some good, and some that still tore my heart in two. I needed a fresh start and sticking around constant reminders wouldn’t allow me a chance to put what had happened behind me.
“Eden, are you going to pour that wine or dance with it?”
Shaken out of my thoughts, I shot an annoyed glance at Tiffany as she tapped her toe on the other side of the bar. Snickering, she motioned to the bottle of Kendall Jackson I hugged to my chest as I narrowed my eyes.
Bitch.
Tightening my grip on the bottle, I imagined it was her neck as I turned to the nice dressed couple at the end of the bar. “Chardonnay, right?” A woman with way too much makeup nodded, and I over-poured on purpose.
Screw this bar and their rules.
Bending over, I shoved the bottle into the mini cooler as Tiffany tapped her toe behind me again.
Blurred Red Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel Page 26
