Blurred Red Lines: A Carrera Cartel Novel

by Kenborn, Cora

  “If you want to keep that toe attached to your foot, I suggest you stop.”

  Shifting her toe behind her opposite heel, she crossed her arms over her massive chest. “We’re not supposed to be on our phones while we’re at work.”

  Slamming the refrigerator door, I stepped in close and lowered my voice to a warning growl. “We’re also not supposed to wear uniform sizes that fit a fucking toddler. Now get out of my face before I get that wine bottle back out and break it over your head.”

  With her mouth forming a perfect circle, Tiffany shook her bleached blonde hair and stomped off with her ass hanging out of her Lycra short.

  God, I hate these outfits.

  I felt and looked beyond stupid in the black booty-shorts and half-shirt announcing to everyone that I was a ‘Naughty Irish Girl.’ Besides, I was Scottish, not that anyone cared.

  After leaving Caliente, I realized Nash had been right. I had no skills other than the ability to mix a Long Island Iced Tea in under forty-five seconds. After searching through every trash can in my house, I finally found one of the University of Texas brochures he’d stuffed in my purse and started the application for admission and financial aid. While I waited to hear if I got accepted, I got a job doing what I did best—slinging drinks. Only this time, instead of shaking margaritas in a Mexican cantina, I poured Guinness in the shittiest Irish pub in town.

  Cashing out my bartender book, I nodded to Zach, the newest hire, who’d come to relieve my shift. He was a nice guy with a mop of sandy brown hair and a beard he tried hard to grow. Maybe one day he’d succeed.

  “Hi, Eden. How’s tips?”

  “Shitty, as usual.”

  “Tiffany here?”

  I rolled my eyes and pointed my thumb over my shoulder toward the manager’s office. “Unfortunately, yes, and probably ratting me out for threatening to cut off her toes.”

  Zach laughed until I glanced up from grabbing my purse from underneath the bar, my eyes cold and serious. He swallowed uncomfortably, and a satisfied smirk coated my face.

  “Enjoy your night, Zach. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure thing, Eden.”

  Pushing the heavy, wooden door open, I inhaled the mild, seventy degree, September weather. With a full chest and clear mind, I realized the exchange with Zach epitomized the new Eden Lachey.

  The person that walked into the hardware store that June morning was no longer me. Even the way I reacted to situations and people had drastically changed.

  I’d never again be anyone’s victim or second choice.

  * * *

  I knew the day would come, whether I pretended it existed or not. I could tell myself as much as I wanted that I was prepared for it and could work through it. Keeping my mind occupied proved to be useless.

  It was disgustingly hot the night my brother should’ve turned twenty-eight years old. Initially full of anger, the indignant side of me wanted to blow the whole day off and get drunk. By the time my car left the bar, I knew what I had to do, and where I was headed.

  I walked out of the supermarket and ripped open the box of popsicles before I reached my car. Hitting the gas with a heavy foot, I rolled down the window and tossed all the orange and purple popsicles onto the highway, one by one, until only a box of red ones remained.

  Holding the box tightly, I dropped everything on my way from the front door of my townhouse to the deck, not bothering to care where they landed.

  One right after another, I sat by myself and ate almost the entire box until my lips were numb.

  * * *

  “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Officer Helms.”

  Placing the phone back on the glass table to my side, I shook my head at the reach Val had across the border and deep into law enforcement. Nash and my father’s disappearances were classified as missing person cases, boxed and buried in files never to be reopened. As far as the Houston Police Department was concerned, my only family would be missing until the end of time.

  Only, I knew their bodies would never be found. If they even still existed at all.

  Still huddled on my deck, I faced the city lights and chased the red drip of the last remaining popsicle with my tongue as it ran down my arm. Shifting in my lounger, I hugged the empty box to my chest as my eyes clouded with tears.

  “I look like I’ve shoved my hands up a baboon’s ass, thanks Nash.” Holding my red-stained hands out for his inspection, I threw the dark red sponge in the sink and rolled my eyes at him.

  Nash just grinned. “You should’ve come home and checked your mail instead of going to the bar with one of your ex’s fraternity brothers.”

  “I was just blowing off some steam, big brother. I’m allowed after all I’ve been through, don’t you think?”

  Folding his hands in his lap, Nash seemed to take a moment to choose his words. “Be careful around Brody Harcourt, Cherry. I know him well enough, but I don’t trust him…especially with my sister.”

  “Will you please stop calling me that?”

  “No.” He laughed, his resolve to tease me relentlessly obvious.

  Plopping down in a lounger beside him, I stared out at the city lights of Houston from the deck of my townhouse. “What is it about me that makes everyone leave, Nash? First Mom, now Davis.” Lowering my chin, a shudder shook me as I fought the impending breakdown I’d held in for so long. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

  Reaching over, Nash grabbed the arm rest of my chair and dragged it over until it touched his. As he wrapped his strong arm around my shoulder, I rested my forehead against his chest, and breathed in his familiar Giorgio Armani cologne. “Nothing is wrong with you, Cherry Pop. You should never change to meet anyone else’s expectations. If they can’t love you for the amazing, strong, and adorably quirky person you are…fuck ‘em. They aren’t worth you or your time.”

  “But what about you? You’re all I have left, Nash. If you ever left me, I don’t think I could handle it.”

  Giving me a squeeze, he kissed the top of my head. “I swear to you, Edie, no matter where we end up in life, I’ll always be here for you.” Chuckling, he picked up one of my beet red stained hands and held it up. “Besides, there isn’t any situation that can’t be fixed by red dye number forty and a hug from your big brother.”

  I wiped the tears as they fell and bit the tip off the popsicle.

  I’d have to settle for red dye number forty tonight.

  Snapped out of my memory by the shrill ring of my phone, I dropped the melting popsicle on the glass table and glanced at the caller ID.

  “Were your ears burning? I was just talking about you.”

  “With who?” Brody asked, his voice curious.

  “Nash.”

  “Cherry, have you been drinking?”

  His concern for my sanity made me laugh out loud. “What’s up, Brody?”

  “I know it’s late, but are you busy? Can I come over?”

  “Look,” I sighed. “We talked about this, remember? I like you, and you’re a good friend, but just because he’s gone doesn’t mean I’m ready to see anyone else right now.”

  Or ever.

  “Yes, I know that, Eden. You’ve made that perfectly clear on multiple occasions,” he retorted dryly. “Besides, the last thing I plan to do is get on the wrong side of Val Carrera. Been there, done that, don’t ever plan on it again.”

  My spine stiffened at the mention of his name. “We’re not together, Brody. You know that.”

  “So you keep saying.” He paused. “Does he know that? All I’ll say is I feel sorry for the first guy you try to have a real relationship with, Eden. Emilio Reyes is still here running the stateside operations, you know. Plus, Carrera has eyes and ears everywhere. If you think he doesn’t have them on you, you’re nuts.”

  I’d heard enough. “You have twenty minutes. If you’re not here, I’m going to bed.” Moving the phone to disconnect the call, I pressed it back to my ear and added, “Alone.” Then I h
ung up.

  * * *

  “Thanks for seeing me.” Walking past me, Brody ran a hand through his dirty blond hair and sat on the couch, bouncing his knees up and down in his habitual nervous gesture.

  “Please,” I offered, after the fact. “Come in.”

  Brody shot me a hardened look, with his eyes void of amusement. “Eden, this is serious.”

  Scrubbing my hands down my face, I took a seat across from him and tucked my legs underneath me. “Fine, what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

  “You have to promise to let me finish before you flip out,” he muttered under his breath. After I nodded and grew more and more suspicious of his behavior, he stood up and paced in front of me. “I’ve been searching for Marisol Muñoz.”

  “What?”

  “You agreed to let me finish first.”

  “That was before I knew this had to do with the fucking Muñoz Cartel! Brody, have you lost your mind? This is like tap dancing on a land mine!”

  Closing the distance between us, he wrapped his fingers around my shoulders. “In digging for information, I found a faked birth certificate, Cherry. Marisol Muñoz doesn’t exist.”

  “What are you saying?” I whispered, afraid to hear the rest.

  “Not only was there never a real birth certificate for Marisol Muñoz, but there isn’t a death certificate on record for Adriana Carrera.”

  “No…” Shaking my head, I tried to pull away from his hold.

  “You mentioned a baby…Ana. What happened to her?”

  “No one ever found my sister’s body. I can’t think about that, Eden. I never have.”

  “Marisol Muñoz had to have a kidney transplant when she was fourteen. Her kidneys shut down because of a life-long battle with juvenile diabetes. The Muñoz family ran into a problem when none of her blood relatives were a match as a donor.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything, Brody,” I argued. “That happens all the time in families.”

  “Eden, both Esteban and his wife have type A blood. That means genetically they could only produce children with type A or type O blood.” Pausing, he glanced at his hands before locking me in an intense stare. “Marisol Muñoz’s blood type is AB. Adriana Carrera was born with type 1 juvenile diabetes. I have a friend in the Mexican Embassy. I had them run a comparison of the blood samples on record, on account of the unsolved murder of Adriana Carrera.”

  The gold flecks in her eyes. The thick dark hair. The refusal to degrade women.

  I twisted harder. “Brody, no...”

  “Adriana Carrera’s blood type was AB. They matched, Edie. Marisol Muñoz isn’t Manuel’s sister. She’s Val’s.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  VAL

  MEXICO CITY, MEXICO

  “I think it went well, don’t you?” Mateo asked, parking the car in front of the estate.

  “Well, no one got shot this time, so I’m going with yes.” Rolling his eyes at me, he opened the car door, and I broke a smile. It was one of the few I’d managed in the past six weeks.

  Today marked the first time I faced the men as the official head of the cartel since the ill-fated meeting that ended in Guzman’s death. Since returning to Mexico, I’d let Mateo handle the meetings with the lieutenants while I hid in the estate and healed from surgery. My men needed to see their leader strong and invincible, not in need of help just to walk to the bathroom.

  Plus, I hadn’t found much of anything to smile about after leaving everything that meant anything in Houston.

  After all we’d been through, the last thing I ever expected was for Eden to walk away. The moment she left my hospital room, I knew it would be the last time I’d see her. A few days later, I was discharged, and I still hadn’t heard from her.

  Once across the border, I’d picked up the phone to call her, then realized I didn’t have her number. The phone I’d given her in Monterrey was mine, and she’d either discarded it or simply stopped using it. For everything Eden and I had shared, there was so much more I didn’t know about her. Normal couples would’ve known such things within the first few days.

  I didn’t know her phone number.

  I didn’t know her middle name.

  I didn’t know her favorite food or her favorite color.

  I did know that I loved her, and with every week that went by, I missed her more, not less.

  But it was time to come to terms with the fact that we’d both made our choices and move on.

  “Did the shipment make it to Padre Island without any problem?” I asked, opening the front door to my new house.

  “Right on schedule.” Mateo nodded as he followed me inside. “We’ve appeased the Columbians with the new territories we picked up from the slack in the Muñoz holdings. I talked to Emilio a few hours ago. He says everything is running smoothly, and all stash houses should be filled and ready for delivery tomorrow.”

  “Muy bien.” I nodded and plowed a hand through my hair. “Tomorrow we need to set up an email account accessible for all the lieutenants. That’s how we’ll communicate for this next shipment we’re moving by train from Mexico City to Houston. One email account, Mateo, and we all have the same password. That way we can eliminate all this traceable shit going back, and…” My words died on my tongue as I turned the corner into the main living room, and all thought blanked from my mind.

  She’d never looked more beautiful. In a fitted sleeveless beige dress, she held folded papers tightly in her clasped hands as we stared at each other. The long, candy-red colored hair that I loved to wrap around my fingers was pulled up into a loose bun on top of her head. Large gold hoops reflected from her ears, and the Santa Muerte pendant I gave her hung around her neck.

  I didn’t know whether to pick her up and lock her in my bedroom or throw her ass out for putting me through six weeks of hell.

  “Eden.” It was the only thing I could think of to say that was safe.

  “Hey, Danger.” Unclasping her hands, she threw them out to the side. “Surprise.”

  “I think I have some…I need to go do the thing in the…they said I had to…I’m leaving,” Mateo mumbled as he hurried out of the front door, closing it behind him.

  “Did you take a wrong turn leaving Caliente?” Tearing my eyes away from her, I walked to the bar and poured a glass of tequila. I needed a drink to deal with seeing her again.

  “Val, you know I don’t work at Caliente anymore.”

  “How would I know that? I live in another country…Cere…Eden.”

  “Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

  Slamming the glass down, I turned over my shoulder. “Why did you come here? I assume it wasn’t for a vacation.”

  Her fingers clenched around the papers. “I get that you’re mad. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me for walking out at the hospital and not coming back. I’m not here to beg for your forgiveness.”

  Her words did something to me. For six weeks, I did nothing but imagine what I’d do if she walked through that door. I wished for it. Hell, I even prayed for it. But day after day, I lost faith in ever feeling alive again.

  Now, here she stood, just like I dreamed she would. Except she wasn’t apologetic and didn’t need or want my forgiveness.

  Fuck that.

  Hitching my arm back, I threw the glass against the wall, shards and tequila exploding everywhere. “Maybe I want you to, Cereza.” Stalking toward her, I gave up the fight not to touch her and roughly palmed her cheek. “Maybe I want you down on your knees, begging for my forgiveness.”

  Backing up, she grabbed my arm. “Stop it, Val.”

  “I mean, you’re so good at it.” I continued backing her up until her ass hit the wall. “Being on your knees, that is.”

  An impending storm of rage flashed through her eyes as she dropped the papers in her hand and slapped me hard across the face. For half a heartbeat, we stood there staring at each other, chests heaving and jaws clenched. Then, as if a dam broke, o
ur mouths crashed together in impatient fury. There was nothing slow or soft about our kisses. Our tongues fought for dominance as teeth clashed and lips plundered.

  Without asking permission, I jerked her dress up around her waist and wound the string that rested by her hips around my hand and pulled hard. A satisfying rip filled my ears as the material tore in half.

  “Val,” she moaned, half encouraging me, half protesting.

  I didn’t care one way or the other. I was too far gone. “Beg me, Cereza.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Shoving two fingers inside her, I pumped them hard and growled again. “Beg me, Cereza.”

  Gasping, she threw her head back against the wall and groaned. “Fuck me. Forgive me, and for God’s sake, fuck me.”

  I released my pants with one hand while continuing to thrust mercilessly into her. I felt her come the moment she clenched around my fingers. Moaning, she slammed her palms against the wall above her head and panted for air.

  “Jesus!”

  “Don’t move,” I demanded. Kicking her legs apart, I grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her onto my cock. “No man will ever love you like I do, Cereza.” Driving into her hard, I bottomed out as she screamed my name. Holding us both still, I took full possession of what belonged to me. “Eres mia para siempre,” I commanded hotly into her ear. “You’re mine forever, Eden Lachey.”

  * * *

  “This isn’t why I came here,” Eden mumbled, cradled in my lap as I sat leaned against the wall.

  Eventually coming down from the high of simultaneous orgasms, we’d finally caught our breath, too exhausted to move. I couldn’t remember anything feeling as good as holding her in my arms at that moment. It was as if the anguish of the past six weeks faded away the minute I buried myself inside her. I didn’t care what she had to say. Eden wasn’t going back to Houston. I’d chain her to the bed again if I had to.

  “Okay,” I said, burying my nose in her hair. “I’ll bite. Why did you come here?”