Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  “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 im
agined 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.”

  Alex wasn’t amused by my dismissive attitude. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t danced in the rain like a fucking moron, we would’ve been done already.”

  I twisted around to face him, rage boiling inside me. “And maybe if you hadn’t forced me to be your own personal Donnie Brasco, I wouldn’t be here in the first damn place.”

  Chuckling, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “You got balls, kid. I like that. Just don’t flash them around me again, or you won’t like what happens.”

  “Oh? What are you going to do, threaten to send me to jail?” I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Sorry, I heard that one already.”

  I waited for his response, but he just took a long drag off the cigarette. “What do you have for me? Don’t say nothing because I know for a fact you’ve been with Cortes again.”

  “Ah, yes, Caliente. Did your guard dog offer up all the sordid details, or should I give you the recap myself?”

  “From what Swenson told me, you were drunker than a sack of assholes. You’re lucky he was there, little girl,” he said, his large body crowding into me. “Eighty-proof lips spill secrets that get people killed.”

  I stared daggers at him, fighting back a wave of emotion as Mateo’s warning from yesterday came rushing back.

  “I know you think you can’t trust anyone, but holding things back could get people killed.”

  Neither warning was veiled. I knew exactly who they referred to and thinking about it made me sick. I came to Houston to protect them. I couldn’t do anything to jeopardize their safety.

  However, I also refused to show fear anymore.

  “First of all, I’m not your little girl,” I hissed. “I have a name, and if you’re not going to use it, don’t expect me to use yours, Agent Atwood. Secondly, your guard dog almost got me busted. You’re both lucky I think quickly on my feet, sober or not.”

  “Speaking of which, I want my coat back.”

  “Your coat?”

  “Yeah. Swenson pulled that gentlemanly shit with my jacket.”

  “Well, I suppose you can pay Mateo a visit and ask him for it.” I smiled.

  “You get it for me,” he growled. “Shouldn’t be that difficult considering you’ve become a permanent stitch in his sombrero.”

  “How racist of you.”

  “You’re quite defensive when it comes to Cortes. Whose side are you on, Leighton?

  Memories from last night flooded me. I wanted to do as Mateo asked and trust him, but painful experience was a more powerful teacher than hollow promises. Seeing was believing, and I’d seen all I needed to inked all over his back.

  “Mine,” I answered flatly. “However, I do have some information for you. Do what you want with it, but after this, leave me out of it.”

  Alex studied me, his gaze impassive. “That remains to be seen, but continue.”

  “Hector Diaz is dead. I think he might be connected to the man who was in Luis’s apartment that night.” I waited for the shock to register on his face before adding, “I think the Carreras are involved.”

  Alex didn’t flinch. He just sucked on the end of that damn cigarette, squinting an eye at me. “Have you found anything concrete?”

  “No.”

  “I’m getting real tired of this, Leighton.” He flicked his cigarette out of the crack in his window. “I’m a patient man, but even patient men have their limits.” Pressing a button on his door, he stared straight ahead as the crack in the window disappeared.

  Swallowing the panic crawling up my throat, I reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Frantic, I pushed the unlock button, but nothing happened.

  Just stay calm.

  “Let me out, Agent Atwood. I’m late for work.”

  Alex smiled, his lips pulling back to reveal nicotine-stained teeth as he unlocked the door. “Know your role, Miss Harcourt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Leighton

  I stood at the base of the pretentious imperial style brick staircase watching guests file past me, congratulating themselves on being superior to anyone who wasn’t them. The whole over-the-top show made me want to throw up.

  Fuck old money.

  I didn’t want to be here. I was forced into this by the person leaning against one of the massive brick columns four feet behind us. Well, misery loved company, and if I had to be miserable, so did he.

  Stepping off the ledge of the bottom step, I wobbled through the manicured grass, my six-inch heels sinking into the soil. With concerted effort, I finally stood in front of Mateo, my hand on my hip. “Aren’t you going in with me?”

  “No, it’s not safe for you to be seen with me,” he said, his eyes never dropping below my chin while his jaw ticked with anger. “Walk in with Brody. I’ll be watching.”

  We glared at each other in a battle of wills neither of us cared to lose. Logically, I knew he was right, but I was still irritated at the way he’d talked to me in the Tahoe like I was a child. I didn’t respond well to ultimatums, especially ones given by men who demanded transparency yet gave none. I wanted to kick him in the shins and walk away, but heat broke across my cheeks and scattered down my chest, settling deep in my stomach.

  He looked dangerously refined. He still wore his black jeans, but he’d traded his usual T-shirt for a black button-down shirt. However, my eyes couldn’t look away from his face where his shoulder-length black hair was pulled back and secured at his nape. My criminal wore the mask of a gentleman without missing a beat.

  And that made him the most lethal man there.

  A discreet cough came from my left as Brody popped his head over my shoulder. “Am I interrupting something?”

  I stepped back. “No. Mateo was just informing me he’d be hanging out in the rafters watching us like a stalker.”

  Mateo’s eyes darkened, and he stomped toward me, his finger raised in the air. “Look, I’ve had about enough of whatever has crawled up your ass.” For the first time since arriving, his eyes lowered along with his finger. “You’re lucky I even let you out of the car in that...that...”

  “That’s some outfit you’ve got there.” Brody snickered.

  I spun around and glared at him. “Problem?”

  “Nope. I’m just ready for dinner and a show.” Wrapping my hand around his arm, he led me up the staircase. Halfway up, he leaned in and whispered, “And where did you get your, um, dress?”

  I smiled as women in beaded ball gowns stopped to stare at me. “Adam and Eve.”

  Wisely, Brody let the subject die. My brother wasn’t stupid and having grown up with me, he knew nothing I did was without purpose. Tonight was no exception.

  Once inside, Brody placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered, “I know you’re aware of...well, of what I do, but there’s a whole world you know nothing about. I need you to understand there’ll be men here who aren’t who you think they are.”

  He looked so concerned for my fragile psyche that I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I just nodded. “Mateo has already informed me.”

  “And you cannot react.”

  “Wow, you two really think I’m some half-wit, don’t you?”

  “Not in the least,” he said, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “After what you’ve been through, I think you’re probably smarter than all of us put together.” Glancing around, he released me and painted on a plastic smile, transforming into the political figurehead he’d been raised to be. “Are you ready for this?”

  My stomach lurched. “Absolutely not.”

  The farther we walked into the room, the harder I squeezed Brody’s arm. Three massive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling,
and the walls dripped with green ivy entangled with tiny twinkling white lights. A black podium stood at the front of the room, rigged up with a microphone, teleprompter, and a lighting setup powered by enough juice to cause a citywide blackout. It was pompous, over-the-top, and fit Lilith Harcourt Donovan to a T.

  “Oh, my children have arrived! Brody, don’t you look positively dashing.”

  Speak of the devil.

  I slowly turned to see my mother air-kissing both of Brody’s cheeks. Her heavily beaded gown crunched as she moved, while her teased blonde hair remained unflappable. Once she released her hold on him, she rushed toward me, grabbing my hands and linking our fingers like we were best friends.

  “Leighton, darling! I’m so pleased you could make it.” Holding both our arms out, she swept a shrewd glance down my dress and forced a smile. “Don’t you look...unique.”

  My mind flipped through the English To Lilith Translation Manual I’d penned over the years, quickly translating the true meaning of unique.

  Ah, found it. It means whoretastic.

  Uniquely whoretastic was exactly the look I was aiming for when I walked into the adult store yesterday and perused the exotic dancewear rack. It didn’t take long to find the picture-perfect outfit for tonight’s celebration—a shiny fire-engine red pleather tube dress that squeaked when I walked and fit me like a microgrip condom.

  “Do you not like my dress, Mother? I spent all day shopping for it.” Just to be a shit, I bit my bottom lip and managed to tear up a little, thanks to four years of useless acting lessons.

  “Of course, darling. You look very...youthful.”

  Note to self: add youthful to unique synonyms.

  Brody excused himself, like the rat bastard he was, just as a tuxedoed waiter approached with a silver tray of champagne flutes, so I gratefully took two. Mother stared at me expectantly until finally taking her own and sending him away with a swift flick of her wrist.

  “Looks like another lucrative turnout.” Downing half the champagne in my right hand, I waved the left one around the room. “Kudos to whichever of your minions managed to acquire a list of 1099s to cultivate the guest list.”