by Cora Kenborn
Jackie lips parted, revealing an obligatory smile. “Of course.”
“Wonderful. I’ll report back soon, darling.” As my mother rounded her desk and leaned in for her patented air kisses, I kept my eyes on Jackie. Her smile never wavered, and I wondered if her cheeks ever hurt from holding them in such an unnatural position.
As soon as Mother closed the door, Jackie lowered herself into the seat beside me. “So, how’s school?”
“Done,” I admitted. “I dropped out.”
Either she didn’t hear me admit to fucking up my life or she didn’t care because she continued to stare at me through heavily lined narrowed eyes. “Must’ve been hard living so far away. Weren’t you scared living alone in a strange town like that?”
“No, my grandparents lived near me.” What the hell was her problem? Her line of questioning was bizarre. “I don’t mean to be rude, but these are really odd questions, Jackie. You’re acting a little strange.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Am I? Well, I suppose we all act a little strange around here. Transparency isn’t one of our finer qualities.” Just as I was about to ask her if she stopped at the cantina to knock a few back before breakfast, she leaned in. “How’s your car?”
My car? What the hell?
Then it hit me. She knew about my accident. The back of my car was a little dented but still drivable. But there was no way in hell Jackie should know about it.
“You’re double parked,” she clarified as if reading my mind. “Someone reported it, and we ran your plates. You know, come to think of it, Mr. Donovan’s having his car repaired from a recent minor accident too. Funny coincidence, huh?”
My chest pounded. “Yeah.”
“I could arrange to have yours repaired too, if you’d like.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s in the campaign manager job description.”
“Leighton, a lot of things I do aren’t in the job description.” Uncrossing her legs, she stood with the grace of a lion. “By the way, I believe you kept a scrapbook—old clippings of your father’s career. Do you still have it?”
“I suppose it’s at my mother’s house in my old room somewhere,” I said, beginning to question her sanity.
Nodding, she brushed her hair over her shoulder. If I hadn’t been watching, I would’ve missed the tremble in her hand. “You might want to take a look at them. Great man, your father. Such a shame what happened to him. A real shame.”
“Yes, he was.”
Making her way toward the door, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You have his eyes, you know.” A sad smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “They tell the truth if you look long enough. I’ve always thought the eyes were the window to the soul.”
The familiar words slammed into me, and I felt like I was about to be sick.
“Look long enough into a man’s eyes and you’ll know his real intentions. The eyes are the window to the soul.”
They were words my father lived by. Words so meaningful to him I had them slipped into the pocket of his suit jacket before they closed the casket. I gripped the armrest until my knuckles cracked. How could my mother’s campaign manager know something so personal about him? My father was a friendly but intensely private man. His values and things that mattered most to him were only shared within a select group of people: his children, his wife, his parents, and people he loved and trusted.
Holy shit.
People he loved and trusted.
“Jackie, wait!” Scrambling to my feet, I ran after her, but she’d already disappeared down the hall. “Shit!” Slamming my fist against the doorframe, I raced past the reception area and tore out of the building.
With both my mother and Finn at work, there was no time like the present.
I took the stairs two steps at a time until I flung open the door to my old room. I didn’t have the time to be careful. Diving into my closet, I tore through mountains of old boxes until I came across the one I wanted. It was the size of a hat box, and when I ripped the top open, I didn’t allow myself the hysterical breakdown that usually accompanied looking at what remained of my father’s life.
No emotions. Not today.
Picture after picture, clipping after clipping, I scanned the words and forced myself to see my father’s smiling face. Nothing stood out as different. Nothing was out of place.
Jackie wasn’t trying to tell me something.
She hadn’t had some secret relationship with my father.
She was just a fucking lunatic.
Grabbing the lid to the box, I cursed under my breath and almost put it away when I saw it. It peeked out from beneath my father’s official promotion photo from cop to detective. Reaching in with a shaking hand, I pulled it out and time froze. Still, I didn’t cry. Maybe it was shock, but maybe, deep down a part of me always knew this moment would come.
The picture was worn, covered in countless salty tears, but the faces were still visible.
Hundreds of people had shown up for my father’s funeral, but only one person in the photograph standing next to his casket looked familiar.
The salt and pepper hair.
The deep dimpled chin.
Shoving the box back in the closet, I tucked the photo in my back pocket and left.
Twenty-Eight
Mateo
Slipping off my jacket, I draped it across a chair outside of the steel door. “Anyone see you come in?”
One of Brody’s more trustworthy sicarios shook his head and stepped out of my way. “No. This cabrón is really estupdio. We got him first thing this morning in the parking deck outside his office. He couldn’t have made it easier.”
“How bad is he?”
“You said not to fuck him up, so just a few punches. Maybe a rib or two. He’s a rich asshole, so I may have gotten in a couple for myself.”
I slapped him on the back. “Good man.”
Kicking the door open, I stood back just to admire his handiwork. Finn Donovan looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a mountain lion and lost.
As with most of our holding tanks, this one was bare and cold. That was by design. The accommodations our guests found themselves in were minimalistic at best. The only luxuries we allowed were sight and sound. Mainly because solitary confinement needed to be absorbed in all its torturous glory, and that would be inhibited by a blindfold. Plus, gags just ruined all the screaming, and that was the best part.
All that surrounded me when I walked in were four concrete walls and a dusty tarp covered floor. Oh, and one wide-eyed rich fuck tied to a metal chair right in the middle.
His hands were bound behind him, and his ankles were tied together so tightly, if I took his shoes off, I wouldn’t be surprised to find them purple. Donovan wheezed from his cracked ribs, and a busted lip left dried blood caked over a dark bruise forming on his chin.
All in all, I was pleased with how he looked. My fists itched to get started, but business always took precedence over personal vendetta. My boots clicked against the hard floor beneath the tarp, and he slowly raised his chin. Our eyes connected, and I smiled the moment he recognized me.
The chair wobbled as he jerked against his restraints. “Help!” he screamed, his voice hoarse. “Somebody, help me!”
I made a complete circle around him. “Finley, that’s a little disrespectful, don’t you think?”
“Disrespectful?” he heaved, spittle dribbling from the cracked corners of his mouth. “You people kidnapped me! You beat me, and I’m supposed to be nice? Fuck you!”
I smiled, enjoying his prolonged his torture. He expected me to pull out my gun, so knocking him off-balance with conversation amused the fuck out of me. “You people? See, that’s the type of hate that pulls communities like ours apart, Finley. I’m kind of offended.”
He jerked on his bindings again. “Let me go.”
“I believe in honesty, Finley, so I’m going to give it to you straight.” Grabbing the back of his chair, I got right in his face an
d smiled. “That’s not going to happen.”
“What do you want from me?”
“That was an interesting little party you threw last night. I learned a lot considering I wasn’t on the guest list, as you were so kind to point out. However, I felt like we didn’t have a chance to get to know each other. You know, one-on-one.” I motioned between us then slapped a firm hand against his cheek. “Man to shitbag.”
“I’ll tell you anything. What do you want to know?”
It took five minutes for him to cave. I wanted to put a bullet in his head just because I hated weakness, but I held back.
“What the fuck is with your obsession with Leighton? And while we’re on the subject, what’s your connection with Alex Atwood and Emilio Reyes?” Lifting a boot, I stepped onto the chair, crushing his balls. Finn let out a tortured howl, so I pressed a little harder. “Before you answer, I want you to know how much I hate being lied to.”
“Leighton is my stepdaughter,” he wheezed. “Is it so hard to believe I’ve missed her? I’m sure you would agree she’s grown into a beautiful woman.”
Even with his ball sack flattened, the asshole still managed to disrespect Leighton. I fought to control my disgust. “What about Atwood?”
“Alex is just a generous campaign donor for my wife. I don’t know the other guy you mentioned.” Letting out a relieved breath, he smiled.
After all this, the motherfucker was smiling. He wouldn’t be for long.
Removing my foot, I pushed his chair back a few feet. “You like to play games, huh? I’ve got one for you. It’s called Musical Dicks.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and queued up the infamous video, turning the volume up as loud as it would go. Wearing my own smile, I flipped it around and let the show begin.
Finn watched the whole thing without a flicker of emotion. I didn’t expect him to break down in tears, but he seemed almost irritated.
I shoved my phone in his face. “What’s wrong with you? That’s your wife with another man.”
“Is that supposed to shock me?” he asked, his tone flat. “You think you’re telling me something I don’t already know?”
“You’re okay with this?”
His mouth curved in a smile. “I’ve had my share of...extra.”
His taunt blinded me to the point of madness. I wanted him to feel pain. I wanted him to hurt as much as I did until he lost touch with reality. I almost gave in to my need for it when Val’s words echoed in my head.
“Business over vendetta. No answers come from dead men’s lips.”
Squeezing my phone, I shook it in his face. “It doesn’t bother you that she’s sleeping with a cartel member?”
His infuriating smile widened. “It should bother you more. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
Letting out a roar, I pulled my arm back and punched him in the face, his nose exploding into a waterfall of blood.
“Ah,” he garbled. “You broke my nose!”
“Good.”
“What the hell was that for?”
“I hate weak men,” I snarled. “Plus, you’re an asshole.” I stormed toward the door, shaking my fist.
Fuck, he had a hard face.
“Let me go!” he yelled after me. “People will miss me.”
Stopping, I glanced over my shoulder. “Maybe, but they won’t find you.”
For the first time, fear flashed across Finn Donovan’s face. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll let you think about all the possibilities while I decide.” I slammed the door behind me to the sounds of him begging for his life.
I slept alone Thursday night, which was just as well. I needed time to decompress from my afternoon with Donovan. By the time I’d cleared my head, Friday had come and gone in a blur. Leighton and I barely saw each other during the day, and when I got back to the townhouse, she’d already left for work. For the first time, I didn’t even think about driving to Caliente and checking up on her. My mind was too preoccupied with trying to sort out all the different puzzle pieces that didn’t fit. Unfortunately, the most jagged piece of all was the woman who set all of this in motion.
Leighton shot one of our own men because she claimed he was going to kill her. That was what brought me here. That was what prompted Brody to involve us all. Yet, at every turn, more and more people were added to the puzzle, turning it from a cartel problem into one that reached beyond our borders and into so many political and judicial backdoors my head spun.
Nobody was who they claimed to be. Truths were coming out that had nothing to do with the blood on our hands, and I didn’t know how either of us were going to handle them.
Even now as it neared midnight, neither of us had spoken for the last hour. As Leighton lay draped across my chest, I knew she felt the tide turning too. It was like the less we talked, the less of a chance we had of destroying the bubble we’d created.
Unfortunately, bubbles didn’t exist in my world.
And I had a soldier tailing her.
“What happened at your mother’s office yesterday?” I asked, stroking her hair.
“What...” Leighton lifted her head, her chin digging into my chest. In the few seconds it took for the question to hover in her eyes, it cleared just as fast. “You had me followed.”
“I told you I’m going to protect you, Leighton. Even if it’s from yourself.”
“I wanted to ask her why Alex was at her party. It didn’t make sense to me. It still doesn’t.”
“Did she explain?”
She shook her head. “Not really. She said he’s an associate of Finn’s and a campaign investor. I don’t think she knows anything. My mother is a skilled actress, but even she can’t play dumb that well. Something’s off with Finn and Alex.”
I stopped stroking her hair and grabbed a handful, tilting her head back. “When were you planning on telling me this? Or were you?”
“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or do you want the truth?”
“The truth, mi amor. Always the truth.”
“I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know when.”
Hearing her speak with such sincerity filled me with hope. I pulled her toward me, but she pushed her hand against my chest.
“There’s more,” she sighed. “My mother’s campaign manager said some strange things to me. She asked me to look over the old clippings of my father’s career.”
“Did you?”
She nodded. “I found a picture of Alex at my father’s funeral. Why would he have been there, Mateo?”
I should’ve been surprised, but I wasn’t. Her admission was just another string in what had become a multi-layered web of deceit. “I have no idea, but we can look into it. Seems like our friend Atwood has more on his agenda than the law. Did you ask your mother about it?”
“No.” Sighing, she melted against my chest again. “She left to make some phone calls. I tried to call her on my break, but I guess she was out picking up Finn’s clubs.”
“His what?”
Leighton brushed her lips against my skin and raked her nails down my ribcage. “She ordered him a new golf club. I guess he lost his six iron. She was pretty pissed off about it.”
Something harsh stirred in my chest. “Did you say a six iron?”
“Yeah, country club life is no joke with the Donovan duo.” She let out a sarcastic laugh, but I fought to remain still.
Hector’s head was bashed in with a six iron.
Shit, I have to call Val.
Shifting to the side, I simultaneously reached for my phone while attempting to slide out from under her. Oblivious to my revelation, Leighton had other ideas, wrapping her small fingers around my wrist.
“Mateo, there was one other thing I talked about with my mother.” Her brown eyes glistened, darting around the room as if afraid to look at me. “I’m not sure if you care to know, but you keep saying you want to be with me, so—”
I cupped her cheek. “I do.”
“If you want to be with me, you’re going to have to accept all of me. You can’t ignore it anymore.”
My throat constricted. “What are you talking about?”
Tilting her face inward, she brushed her lips against my palm. “Matty, I told my mother about—”
My phone rang, cutting her off. “Jesucristo, what is it with this fucking phone?” Still holding her face, I reached across with my other arm and swiped it off the nightstand. “Yes?”
“You have a reprieve, Cortes.” Val’s clipped voice crackled through the line. “Eden is having some kind of pregnancy pain. She keeps telling me she’s fine, but I won’t leave her until I’m positive my son is all right.”
I have more time. Thank God.
“Understandable. Give Eden my best.”
He spoke to someone in the background before returning to our conversation. “It’ll be at least two or three more days until I can I arrive in Houston. Consider it a gift,” he added before hanging up.
Leighton tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, letting her go and scrubbing both hands down my face. “Eden is having some sort of pain. She’s okay, but for once, a kid came in handy instead of being a pain in the ass, huh?” Laughing, I leaned back against the pillow, pulling her with me. “What were you saying?”
Swallowing, she rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “It’s not important.”
Twenty-Nine
Mateo
“Has it started yet?” Handing Leighton a cup of coffee, I sat down beside her on the couch.
Her ponytail swayed as she shook her head. “Nope. Jackie just said a whole lot of nothing.” Tucking her bare legs underneath her, she played with the hem on the black T-shirt of mine she’d worn to bed.
I tilted my mug toward the screen. “What do you think she’s going to say?”
“I have no idea.” She shrugged, her eyes never leaving the screen. “I tried to call her all day yesterday, but she wouldn’t answer her phone.”
