by Cora Kenborn
“Did you know Emilio was fucking the mayor?”
Val was silent for a moment. “Is this some kind of joke? Because it isn’t funny.”
No shit.
“Bright decrypted one of the files. It’s a sex tape of Emilio and Lilith Donovan.”
“Brody’s mother? Dios mío. Couldn’t Diaz download porn like the rest of us?”
“Val! This is serious.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He yelled so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “I’m sitting here in Mexico while my fucking Houston cartel is being corrupted by pussy.”
“I’ll handle it.” I cringed a little in repeating my own words back to him.
“You’ve been ‘handling it’ for days now, and shit keeps hitting the fan.” Letting out a string of curses, I heard glass clink and the unmistakable sound of liquid pouring. “Luis was in with this Hector guy, right?”
“Yes,” I answered calmly. “That’s what led me to Hector’s apartment. None of this makes sense, Val. What kind of shit was Delgado up to, and why are Emilio and his dick mixed up in it?”
Val grunted as he sipped his drink. “You said Leighton saw a faceless man in Luis’s apartment, which tells me he wasn’t working alone. But what does this have to do with Leighton, and why would a useless fuck like Hector hide this information?”
“Maybe Luis and Hector were working together?”
“Do you think that was a coincidence, Mateo? Do you think they just happened to pick the sister of one of our highest-ranking lieutenants?”
“Brody sent him to San Marcos,” I reminded him, the thought agitating me even more.
“Yes, but Brody didn’t ask him to bed her.”
A car honked its horn, the owner flipping me off as I weaved into his lane. I didn’t want to think about Leighton and Luis together. Just hearing him say it out loud made me want to find Brody and punch him in the face.
“Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” he mused, oblivious to my jealousy. “What if Luis and Hector weren’t working together to hurt Leighton? What if they were working together to save her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Has pussy rotted your brain? Look at the facts, Mateo. Hector is dead. By your own theory, the only person who would have anything to gain by his silence is already decomposing in a fifty-five-gallon drum. Someone didn’t want him to talk, and as you pointed out by his method of execution, they’re not familia.”
He was right. “You think someone else was after Leighton, and Luis enlisted Hector’s help in protecting her?”
“It’s a theory. One that could mean your girlfriend panicked and killed the messenger.”
My brain went into overdrive, trying to make connections between everything that had happened in the past few days and coming up with a shitload of questions with no answers. However, there was one path I itched to take. “Do you want me to confront Emilio?”
“Not yet.” When I growled my dissatisfaction, Val sharpened his tone. “How many times have I told you not to show your hand too early? Play strategically, Mateo. For now, I suggest you find whoever tried to make a hole in one with Diaz’s brain. That’s where you’ll find your connection.”
“Fine.”
“You have three days left,” he added before hanging up.
I drove around Houston, considering my options for the time I had left.
Leighton was already involved with the DEA. I could ask her to take everything to them and hope they made sense of it, but that would betray my own cartel, and I took an oath to Val. No matter what, I wouldn’t betray him. The only other option was to involve Brody by bringing him up to speed with everything I’d found, but that posed two major problems. I promised Leighton I wouldn’t involve her brother any more than he already was, and there wasn’t any easy way to tell a friend his mother was having an affair with his boss.
The clock on the dashboard radio read eleven-thirty. Leighton’s shift ended at eleven, and I briefly wondered if she was at the townhouse waiting for me. She knew the code to get in, so it wouldn’t be difficult. However, something told me after a conversation with her brother, I’d be sleeping alone tonight.
It was just as well. I needed to keep things calm between us. I’d all but forced Leighton to attend her mother’s campaign party on Wednesday. Now, with the asshole from the bar having an invitation and the existence of the tape acting as a smoking gun, there was no way in hell I’d let her go alone. As it stood, I didn’t trust any of them. Even Brody was on my radar.
Twenty-Two
Leighton
Monday morning, I woke up miserable and with eyes like worn sandpaper. Splashing water on my face did nothing to change the situation, so I opted for a shower instead. The hot water pelted my back, loosening some of the knots caused by my mother and Finn’s visit.
Mateo never showed up, and by the end of my shift, I was coming apart at the seams. I desperately needed a piece of my life back, and there was only one thing that could always make everything right when it went wrong. Unfortunately, once again I got a pleasant voice mail telling me to leave a message at the tone.
My skin was on fire by the time I turned off the water. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple red top, I tiptoed into the living room. “Brody?”
Ignoring the silence, my nose led me toward the kitchen table where a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sat next to a glass of juice and a handwritten note. I grabbed the juice and the note and walked into the living room.
Lil’ Bit,
Put the juice down and eat the damn food I made you. I’m sorry I acted like an asshole yesterday, but you’re my baby sister. It’s my job to be an asshole.
~B
P.S. Talk to Mateo. Straighten this shit out before I do.
I groaned at his threat. Little did he know, I almost did.
I sighed, feeling strangely awkward. For the first time since arriving in Houston, I had the entire day off, and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.
I’m going back to bed.
Placing Brody’s note on the coffee table, I hugged the juice to my chest and turned to head down the hall when someone knocked on the door.
“Brody’s not here,” I yelled.
“Good, then we won’t be interrupted.” His voice was smooth and laced with the accent that melted my insides.
I braced a hand against the wall. “Go away.”
“Open the door, Leighton.”
“No.”
Mateo slammed his fist against the door. “Fine. Have it your way.”
I watched in shock as the doorknob rattled a few times before the whole damn thing flew open. Sunlight glinted off the tip of a long blade just before he snapped it shut and shoved it in his back pocket.
“What do you want, Mateo? I was just going back to bed.”
He held my gaze, a lascivious smirk softening his scowl. “That works for me.”
As usual, his clothes were dark. His tight jeans and simple long sleeve shirt made my stomach clench while doing lethal things to my willpower.
“What is it with you?” I blurted out. “You think you can ignore me all day then just show up, and I’ll drop my panties for you?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck you.” Glaring at him, I slammed the juice onto the coffee table and stormed past him.
He caught my upper arm. “We need to talk.”
I was happy to oblige, but I highly doubted he’d like the subject matter.
“Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk.” Jerking out of his hold, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Where were you yesterday?”
“You know I can’t talk about that.
I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh, it’s a guessing game. I love those. Was it Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick?”
“No, Hector Diaz, in the kitchen with a crushed skull.”
All the fight drained out of me. “Hector is dead?”
Mateo cocked his
head. “You sound shocked.”
My hands curled by my sides. “Why wouldn’t I be? I didn’t know anything about the man, much less that he was dead.”
He watched me for a few moments before taking a step toward me. “Someone’s cleaning up behind you, Leighton.” Another step, and his voice hardened. “Well except for Hector, I had to take care of that particular mess. I can’t help you if you aren’t straight with me.”
I bumped into the wall as I inched toward the hallway. “What do you think I’m hiding? I told you Luis said Hector’s name. If he’s dead, obviously, he must be connected to the man I saw threatening Luis.”
For every step I took, he took two until his hands caged me against the wall. “I don’t think Hector wanted to hurt you.”
“You don’t know that,” I argued, ignoring the sweat trickling down my back. “You weren’t there.”
“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” He posed it as a question, but his tone was edged in accusation. “I know you think you can’t trust anyone, but holding things back could get people killed.”
I couldn’t trust anyone—not with this, but the fear he invoked dug a dull knife in my heart. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t cared enough to demand a single detail, and maybe I’d kept quiet to punish him as much as I had for their safety. But he was right—the game had changed. This wasn’t about me anymore.
“There is one thing,” I said, managing to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t say anything before because I’ll do anything to protect my family.”
“As will I,” he clipped, his arms tensing. “That’s why I’m here.”
Of course, the Carrera Cartel. It’ll always be about the cartel.
“Right...” I took a deep breath, my stomach choosing that particular moment to growl. Ignoring its protests, I continued. “I didn’t agree to cooperate with the DEA just for Brody and myself. They promised to—”
A shrill ring cut off the rest of my confession, and we both glanced down as Mateo pulled his phone from his pocket. I caught a quick flash of the text—a series of nonsensical letters and numbers.
“Damn it,” he swore, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “I have to go.” He stepped closer, and I held my breath, pinching my lips together as his hand cradled my cheek. “Meet me at the townhouse later.”
“Why?”
“Food, little lamb. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s that thing that keeps us alive.” He trailed his fingers down my neck, running the pad of his thumb across my collarbone before turning toward the door.
“Not a fan of pasta carbonara?” Mateo twirled his fork while eying my untouched food from across the dining room table.
I placed my fork in the middle of my plate. “It’s fine. Delicious, actually. I just...well, how did you learn how to cook Italian like this?” I hated the concerned lift in my voice.
Concerned, my ass. Petty was more like it.
Mateo’s lips quirked in his own private amusement. “That’s a little politically incorrect, don’t you think?”
“Well, I—”
“What, because I’m Latino, I can’t cook Italian food? You expected tacos maybe?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He leaned forward, studying my face with a satisfied smile. “You’re blushing. You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
His mocking tone horrified me. “No! I just meant that...forget it.”
Content with his discovery, he sat back in his chair and twirled another forkful of pasta. “To answer your question, one of my Houston neighbors was Italian. She used to bring me casseroles all the time, and eventually, I asked her to show me how to make them.”
“Oh, I see.”
“We spent hours together,” he continued, much to my horror. “Sofia was the best—so patient and kind. I miss her a lot.”
I’d heard enough. Shoving my chair back, I gathered my plate and turned toward the kitchen. “Well, she certainly taught you well.”
“Are you jealous, Leighton?” he asked, grabbing my wrist.
“Me? No. Why would I be jealous? She was special to you. I get it.”
“She was also eighty-four years old when she passed away.”
The plate fell out of my hands, crashing onto the floor and splashing cream sauce all over my white dress. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve got to start trusting me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I’ve never had that type of connection with anyone. Not after you.”
I couldn’t let myself believe it. Once upon a time, my choices only affected me. Things were different now, and I couldn’t allow what should’ve been to dictate what was.
Manners required me to stay and clean up my mess. Manners could kiss my ass. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s getting late. I should be going.”
Instead of letting me go, he tightened his hold on my wrist. Mateo’s easygoing demeanor faded, the cartel boss in him taking over. “What were you saying earlier? Something about you not agreeing to cooperate with the DEA for just you and Brody.”
“It’s not important,” I said, shaking my head. “I was flustered.”
He narrowed his gaze, rounding the table until he stood beside me. “I don’t think so.”
“Really, it was nothing,” I repeated, the heat radiating off him causing sweat to bead across my chest. “I have to go.”
His eyes darkened. “But we haven’t even had dessert.”
“I couldn’t eat anything else.”
“That makes one of us.”
The hunger I saw building in his eyes exploded. Sweeping his free arm out, Mateo cleared the dishes off the table, sending them flying into the wall and onto the tile floor. As ceramic exploded everywhere, he lifted my legs off the floor and forced my back against the table, pushing my cotton dress up to my waist.
“What are you—”
“Doing? I’m having dessert.” Ignoring my protests, he grasped the sides of my panties and pulled. As they slid down my legs, he followed their path until his head settled between my thighs. “I’m still hungry, and you’re way too tense.”
I pushed against his shoulders, but his tongue was already probing between my swollen folds, counteracting my blocks with a sharp bite to my clit. I clutched fistfuls of his hair, his strong, rhythmic sucking drawing a tortured moan from my throat. I tried to resist him, but my body betrayed me, eagerly giving into his demands and arching against the heat of his mouth.
“That’s it, mi amor. Cry for me. I’m going to own you until you beg me to stop, then I’ll start all over again until you beg me to finish.”
My breath stalled, and my world spun. The weight of the last week evaporated from my mind, leaving only Mateo and his wicked mouth. I stopped fighting him and gave into the freedom, allowing him to take me over the edge.
My heart thumped heavily in my chest as his lips sucked with the voracity of a starved animal. “Oh, God, Matty, I’m coming!”
“Not without me.” Metal clanged against the glass table, and I lifted my head to see him rip his belt from its loop and shove his jeans down his thighs. He was painfully hard, the broad head of his cock curled against his stomach. “Never without me again, Star.”
Grasping my hips, he jerked me toward the end of the table and pushed inside with one hard stroke. I inhaled sharply at his invasion, preparing for the rough fucking I’d become accustomed to. Instead, he weaved a hand through my hair, tugging me toward his mouth as he pulled out and slowly eased back in.
“Promise me you’re not lying about anything.”
I groaned, throwing my head back. “I promise.”
He circled his hips, putting pressure on my clit before drawing back and driving back in.
“Promise me the man at the bar was just a stranger.”
“He was just trying to help.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
“Promise me Luis Delgado meant nothing to you.”
I rolled my head side to side, biting my lip between moans. “I couldn�
��t love him.”
“Promise me whatever happens, you understand I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“Oh, God, yes!” My breathing shallowed, and my muscles gripped his cock as I shook on the crest of an orgasm.
“Look at me.” Opening my eyes, I met with two burning coals, dark as midnight and just as dangerous. “This ends now. After this, you won’t question me. After this, you’ll do exactly as I say. After this, you’re mine.” Thrusting with one final and brutal stroke, we both broke apart. I screamed, my body wrecked from the waves of aftershocks rippling through it, and Mateo groaned my name, throwing his head back as his body jerked in release.
Time passed in a blurry haze. I meant to leave. I meant to gather what was left of my dignity and drive back to Brody’s apartment. Instead, I found myself completely naked in Mateo’s bed, his strong arms wrapped around me as he held me close.
It should’ve felt wrong. I should’ve felt manipulated, but I didn’t. For the first time in days, the only thing I felt was safe.
Until I woke from another nightmare just as the sun broke over the horizon and rolled over to latch onto him. Pressing my nose in between his shoulder blades, I groggily opened my eyes and froze.
A skull with the bottom half of the jaw missing covered the right side of his back. Wilted black roses lined either side of the cheek and an hourglass settled at the base.
The same tattoo I saw on the man arguing with Luis.
The heavens opened as I walked toward the dark sedan, but I didn’t run. In fact, I may have even slowed my stride a little, the chilled March rain matting my hair against my cheek and drenching my clothes. I imagined Alex puffing on one of his cigarettes and glaring at me from behind the tinted glass, and I smiled, making sure to walk even slower.
A thick cloud of smoke billowed out of the car as I opened the door and slid in the passenger’s seat. “Let’s make this quick,” I said, staring straight ahead. “I have to be at work by ten.”
