Alex rolled his eyes as if he was insulted. “I like being in the open air. Corporate shit isn’t my style. Why? Do you want me to write up an official report? I will, if you insist, Leighton. Of course, I don’t think you’d like how you’d look on paper.”
“You were the one sitting outside Eden Lachey’s old townhouse. Weren’t you?”
“Me? No, stakeouts aren’t my thing anymore. I leave that to Swenson. But, yeah, I know you’re shacking up with Mateo Cortes.”
“I’m not—”
He held up his hand. “It wasn’t in the original agreement, but obviously, this isn’t a ‘by the book’ kind of case. I’ll look the other way so you can do whatever it is you have to do.”
“What I have to do?” I repeated.
He sliced his hand through the air. “Look, I don’t want to know what goes on between the sheets. Just get me something I can use.”
I didn’t know whether to be shocked or offended he’d just given me the green light to whore myself out. Even I knew that wasn’t standard operating procedure, and it didn’t sit well with me. Regardless, I should’ve just taken the gift for what it was and be thankful he didn’t know about my past with Mateo.
“So, do you have any pillow talk for me?” he asked, flicking the cigarette through the crack in his window.
I swear to fuck, when this is all over, I’m going to have his badge.
“First of all, you’re out of line,” I hissed. “Someone ran me off the road. I stayed with Mateo because it wasn’t safe at my brother’s place. Don’t read anything into it. Secondly, no, all I found out was that Valentin Carrera sent him to look out for me.”
He tapped his index finger against the dimple in his chin, his eyes glittering with curiosity. “Why do you think he’s looking out for you? You’re a threat to them. After all, you killed one of their men.”
Panicked, I said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the DEA. Why are you asking me?”
He seemed strangely amused. “Fine, but next time, I want something on Cortes. Also, get back in Reyes’s office. You said there’s a safe? I want in it. Blow the motherfucker up if you have to.”
He glanced at his watch, and I knew my eviction wasn’t far behind. Jumping across the seat, I grabbed ahold of his jacket with both hands. “I did what you wanted. Alex, you can’t keep hanging this over my head. It’s cruel. I haven’t even talked to them, and it’s killing me.”
“They’re safe.”
“Let me talk to them. Just once.”
Glancing down, he pried my grip off his lapels, refusing to speak until I’d slumped back into my own seat. “And then what? Allow Carrera’s men to trace the call and find them? Do you want that on your conscience?”
My heart lodged in my throat. I knew Mateo would never do that. Whether he gave a shit about them or not, he wouldn’t hurt them. Emilio was another story.
“But how are they supposed to understand this?” Hot tears blurred my eyes.
The corners of his mouth turned down in a pensive frown, and hope sprung in my chest. However, he just shook his head and sighed.
I screamed silently, the crushing blow of reality hitting hard. “You won’t stop until another Harcourt is in the ground.”
I wasn’t looking for a response. It didn’t matter because I was getting one regardless.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point. By the way, Cortes dismantled the bug you planted in your brother’s apartment,” he said, smirking. “We’re not stupid, Miss Harcourt.” Nodding toward the bright green clock on the dash, he pointed his finger across the street. “You’d better get back to work. Break’s over.”
Chapter Seventeen
Leighton
I balanced my elbows on the edge of the bar, digging my fingers in my hair and pulling hard on the strands. I waited all day, but Emilio never left his office. I even hung around after my shift ended, hoping he’d get called away, but it never happened.
Finally, at seven-thirty in the evening, he walked out without a word. Of course, it did me no good now. The place was getting too crowded. The risk outweighed the reward.
So why was I still here?
Good question. Hanging around Caliente didn’t seem like the most logical solution, but then again, neither did going home and facing Brody. I’d managed to avoid his inquisition about Mateo, but it wouldn’t last. Eventually, I’d have to come clean about our tangled past.
Shifting on the hard barstool, I pulled the crinkled picture from my back pocket. The edges had frayed, but the familiar grin still shone through the creases. As hopeless as I felt, just looking at it tugged the corner of my mouth into a half smile. Everything that was anything stared back at me in that picture.
Time was ticking.
“What’ll it be?” Glancing up, I noticed Sarah holding a shot glass high in the air like it was Simba from The Lion King.
“Huh?”
“That look on your face, sweets. You look like you lost your best friend,” she said, adjusting her newly-dyed ponytail.
I focused on the glass, trying not to stare at the fucktastrophe on her head. Sarah’s formerly blonde hair was now a garish bright red, an unfortunate side effect from playing bathroom beautician with a box of Clairol. I suspected Emilio had something to do with the drastic change, considering his obvious obsession with all things Eden Lachey.
“I only know one cure for a mood like yours and it goes in here,” she continued, pointing to the small glass in her hand. “Luckily for you, shots don’t require a recipe—just pour and slam. That’s my kind of mixology.”
Because you suck at your job.
I gaped at her. “Are you crazy? I can’t drink at work.”
She raised a blonde eyebrow, the color horrific against her orange hairline. “Didn’t your shift end a couple of hours ago? You’re off the clock.”
Her simplistic logic made perfect sense, and I slumped back into the barstool. “You know what? You’re right. Vodka, and keep ‘em coming.”
Her only response was a wide grin as she poured the shot and set it in front of me. I slammed it before I could change my mind. The straight alcohol burned, but in a sick way, it made me feel better. At least the pain in my throat made me forget about the one in my heart.
“Hit me again.”
* * *
I placed the empty glasses in a horizontal line and counted them.
Nine.
Nine was a good number. Ten would be better.
“Barkeep, another one!” I hiccupped and waved the empty glass in the air as Amanda appeared on my left. “Wanna know my secret,” I said, placing my finger against my lips. “I murdered Mufasa.”
Or Luis. Tomayto, tomahto.
“Thank God you’re here,” Sarah grumbled, snatching the glass out of my hand. “She’s been quoting The Lion King for the past hour and insists on calling me Simba. At one point she broke out into some drunk-ass version of ‘The Circle of Life’.” Glaring, she pointed an acrylic nail at me. “Control her.”
Amanda just sighed. “Leighton...”
“Oh my God!” Holding my phone in one hand, I flung the other one out wide, barely missing her face. “I just Googled the meaning of that song. It’s not an actual circle,” I informed her, sloppily forming the shape with my finger. “It means if something dies, it’s reborn into something else. That’s some deep shit!”
I waited for her accolades. Instead, she just shook her head as an amused chuckle filled my ears. Turning to my right, I noticed a guy hunched over the bar in a tan trench coat, his back shaking with laughter.
“Right?” I asked, happy for the validation.
He said nothing, simply raising his drink in solidarity.
“There you go.” I smirked, sticking my tongue out at Amanda. “He agrees.” Standing on my chair, I grabbed a bottle from behind the bar and raised it toward my new friend. “Cheers.”
Amanda jerked the bottle from my hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”
/> “There’s no such thing.” I huffed, plopping back into the stool.
“Yeah, but there is such a thing as drinking in uniform, and if Emilio catches you doing it, your ass will be fired.”
I glanced down the at the golden Caliente logo scrawled across my chest. “Oh, shit.”
“Yes, ‘oh, shit.’ Do you have a change of clothes?”
I dropped my phone onto the bar and snorted. “No, I didn’t plan on Simba over there getting me plowed.”
Sarah whipped around, eyes blazing. “It’s Sarah.”
“She can have my jacket. It’s pretty long. It should cover her.” Every eye turned toward my only ally as he removed his oversized trench coat and held it up with one hand.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I slipped it on, my hands disappearing inside the miles of material and dropped my phone in the pocket. “See?” I said to Amanda, stretching out both arms. “Circle of life.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Throwing her hands in the air, she shook her head at Sarah and turned to walk away. “You’re on your own.”
I slid my barstool next to my new friend and extended my hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Leighton.”
He nodded and smiled shyly. “Dan.”
“Dan. Dan. Dan the man. Dan—” I stopped, the familiarity of his smile registering somewhere in my brain. “Wait, don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Sliding off the chair, I failed to realize my feet had disappeared. Luckily, the edge of the bar caught my fall at the last minute. “Oops, watch out for that.” Inspecting him at a closer angle, I wagged my finger in his face. “Yeah, I do know you. You’re—” Then it hit me. The shyness. The quiet amusement. The unkempt brown hair. “Son of a bitch.”
Swenson.
The laughter faded from his lips, replaced by a scowl. “Quiet.”
“Did Alex let you off your leash tonight?”
“How about you lower your voice?”
I pushed my finger against his nose. “How about you bend over and kiss my blackmailed ass?”
Rising to his feet, he grabbed my hand. “It would be unfortunate to have to report this behavior to our mutual friend.”
We glared at each other, neither of us backing down as a blur of leather and muscle barreled across the bar and grabbed the back of Swenson’s shirt, twisting it into his fist.
“I suggest you take your hands off the lady if you want to keep your fingers,” Mateo growled.
Swenson released me, and as he clawed at his throat, I jumped to my feet again. “No, Matt—Mateo, it’s not...this isn’t...fuck. Look, it’s fine.” Mateo’s face darkened, and in a panic, I giggled way too much. “This is Dan the man. Dan let me wear his jacket. Wasn’t that chillvilral...chirraval...wasn’t that nice?”
He cocked his head. “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
Mateo arched an eyebrow.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted. “It doesn’t matter if I am or I am.” That didn’t sound right, and I thought about correcting myself, but I already forgot what I said. “Whatever, it’s not your problem.”
He tightened his hold. “He put his hands on you, Leighton.”
Even in my less than coherent state, a surge of independence flooded my veins. Wrapping my hand around his, I tugged until he released his grip on Swenson. “Matty, Matty, Matty,” I said, patting his cheek. “I can take care of myself. You should see the last guy who put his hands on me.”
Mateo’s face twisted, and he glared at Swenson. The traumatized agent backed away, his fingers already pressing buttons on his phone before even reaching the door. If I hadn’t been so focused on watching him leave, I would’ve seen what was coming. Instead, I squealed as Mateo bent down and tossed me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I yelled, kicking my feet. “I object!”
He slapped my ass. “You’re overruled.”
“You’re so bossy,” I ranted, all the blood rushing to my head.
He didn’t bother to answer as he stalked toward the door. I let out a frustrated scream and pounded my fists against his back. My assault did nothing but cause him to burst into laughter.
“What the hell are you laughing at? This isn’t funny!”
He pushed the door open with one hand and a cool gust of air hit my back. “You. Me. Us. This whole scene,” he mused. “It’s like the first night we met.”
He carried me the rest of the way to the Tahoe in silence. Memories flashed through my mind—snapshots of one of the worst and best nights of my life.
After gently settling me into the passenger’s seat, Mateo leaned over me to buckle my seatbelt, and it hit me again. Caramelized leather. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as it enflamed every possible emotion. Love. Lust. Sorrow. Regret. There was nothing like Mateo’s scent. It was crystalized warmth.
The seatbelt clicked into place, but he didn’t move. I opened my eyes to find a familiar look in his. It smoldered with an intoxicating heat a hundred times more potent than the alcohol flowing through my veins.
“Mateo...” I moaned his name, and his eyes cleared as if my voice shattered a spell.
“Safety first. Can’t be too careful.” Giving the shoulder harness a firm tug, he backed out of the truck without another word.
Ten minutes later, I broke the awkward silence. “I didn’t ask for a white knight, you know.”
“No? Well, good thing I’m not one.”
“I can’t believe you just picked me up and carried me out of there.”
“Why not? It’s not like it’s the first time,” he said, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. “Only, you were sober and modest back then.”
I tried holding onto my anger, but once I looked down at the slutty-looking uniform peeking out from under the ridiculously large trench coat, I laughed. “It’s no orange party dress, that’s for sure.”
“Yellow.”
“Huh?”
“Your dress was yellow,” he mused, changing lanes.
“You remember the color of my dress?”
He nodded. “I remember everything about that night, Leighton. You looked like a fallen angel. I’d always believed in hell, but you made me believe heaven existed too.”
His confession unleashed a part of myself I’d long locked away. In a few words, he’d ripped down my walls and shattered my self-control.
If he thought I was an angel, I might as well show him just how far I’d fallen.
“Pull over,” I ordered, unbuckling my seatbelt and tearing off the trench coat.
A panicked look crossed his face, and he jerked the wheel, turning the Tahoe into an abandoned parking lot. Slamming the gear shift into park, he unfastened his own seatbelt. “Fuck, if you’re going to throw up, make sure you...what the hell?”
Before I could change my mind, I crawled over the console into his lap and slammed my lips against his. Catching him mid-sentence, he hardly had a moment to react before I pushed my tongue inside, weaving my fingers in his long hair.
At first, Mateo was unresponsive, but the minute I circled the tip of my tongue around his, he let out a growl so low and primitive, I wasn’t sure if he was about to kiss me or kill me. I blinked, and he attacked, grabbing the sides of my face and deepening an already frantic kiss.
Back up.
My surge of seduction had run its course. Although I started this, I was no longer in control, and I couldn’t have that.
Time to redirect.
Releasing his hair, I braced my palms on the headrest, brushing kisses against the outside of his ear. “Did you have any remorse the first time you killed someone?”
“No,” he groaned. “Remorse is a useless emotion. Kill or be killed—that’s the basic law of my world, Leighton. Life is expendable. No one’s an exception.”
Shifting back a little, I caught his eye. “Want to know a secret?”
“Fuuuck.” Gritting his teeth, he nodded, the added pressure on his erection ca
using it to throb.
This is crazy. This is the alcohol talking. Don’t say another word.
Leaning in, I whispered, “I think I agree.”
Shock flickered in his eyes then quickly faded into darkness. “Let me ask you a question,” he coaxed, rubbing a finger against the tight denim between my legs. “Did you ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”
I whimpered, grinding against his hand. “What?”
“If things had been different. If we’d met that night and left town, I’d have been the only one, Star. The first and the last.”
His lips claimed mine in a possessive kiss, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed him to feel as lust-drunk as I did. Reaching between us, I cupped him, stroking his length through the confines of his pants. He let out a hiss and bucked his hips. Emboldened by his response, I released the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper, his cock springing free from the opening in his boxers. Glancing down at how hard he was, I bit my lip to keep from groaning.
I feathered my fingers down his shaft, and he grabbed my wrist, stilling my movement. “Dios mío,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “¿Estás tratando de matarme?”
“I am not trying to kill you,” I huffed.
He opened one eye. “You know Spanish now?”
“I know a lot of things now.”
The restraint he’d held onto broke in a flurry of movement. Fisting my hair, he tilted my head back. “Be sure,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Because once I touch you, I won’t stop.” Giving my hair a firm yank, he exposed my neck and swept his lips down my throat, his goatee brushing my skin.
Explosions detonated in my head as he pushed me toward the edge. “Oh, God, don’t you dare stop this time,” I gasped.
My words were his undoing. He reached over and grabbed the seat release, sending us tipping backward. I didn’t have a chance to protest. By the time I opened my mouth, he’d already flipped me around and had me underneath him, his tongue devastating me as his hands tore at my shorts. Mateo’s kisses were like a drug, and I’d become so high on him, I didn’t realize I was naked from the waist down until his skilled fingers found me again, this time without barriers.
Carrera Cartel: The Collection Page 40
