Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  “Listening is a useful skill.” She winked. “You should try it sometime.”

  She had me by the balls. She didn’t have to say the words to confirm it. I didn’t want to hear them anyway. Especially from her. There was no point in denying it now. The only thing left to do was figure out a way to turn this around and beat her at her own game.

  Besides, if I was good at one thing, it was causing women to self-destruct.

  I scrubbed my hands down my face. “They weren’t together, you know.”

  Adriana glanced down at the shattered scotch bottle in front of her feet and sighed. “Does it matter? It was a selfish, risky gamble with low odds, Brody. One that an attorney such as yourself should know better than to attempt.” The shitty blue carpet squished under her high heels as she kicked a large piece of glass.

  “Well, obviously, my gamble, as you call it, didn’t pay out, so why turn Val’s life upside down over a bad roll of the dice? You wouldn’t be his savior. You’d be his destroyer. Would selling me out be worth the wrath that might come with that title?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she whirled around and glared at me. “A bad roll of the dice?”

  “That’s what you got out of all that?” I pressed, trying to ignore the way her crossed arms exaggerated her already displayed breasts. “Were you even listening?”

  “To every word.” The cords in her neck tightened, venom dripping from the forced pause between every word.

  “And?”

  Adriana took a calculated step, her stare hardening as broken glass crunched under the toe of her high heel. “And why not? I seem to have acquired a nasty little habit of reinventing myself these days.”

  One more step. Crunch. Two more steps. Crunch.

  Darting her tongue out, she licked her bottom lip while curling a finger around my tie. “Plus, no risk, no reward—and whatever wrath comes either of our ways, I’ll just chalk it up to a bad roll of the dice.” She gave my tie a hard tug. “At least this time, it’ll be on my terms.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “And you’ve been drinking since I left. What are you up to now, Brody? Half a bottle a day? More? I mean, you’re a bountiful mixed bag of sin. What are you trying to forget?”

  “The fact that you’re here.”

  “Maybe it’s the fact that you love the power of pulling that trigger a little too much. Quite possibly, it’s that your little rebellious phase caused you to go against a direct order and align with the Northside Sinners anyway.”

  “Don’t push me, Adriana. I’m warning you.”

  “There could even be a tiny part of you hidden away in whatever’s left of your conscience that’s haunted by what the roll of your dice did to me. But what you’re really trying to numb is buried deep within the dark and twisted layers of that ‘don’t give a fuck’ exterior. That’s where the real fear lives.”

  “Shut up!”

  “The fear that the all-powerful Valentin Carrera will one day find out the truth. That when you rolled the dice, you bet everything on the fact that her hatred for me would outweigh any love she had left for him.”

  “That’s quite a story.”

  “Yes, and quite cliched, if I’m honest. Even if you lost in the end, as long as Val lost too, that’s all that mattered, right?”

  Son of a bitch.

  This game of wits had turned into a battle to the death and sensing impending defeat, I flipped my middle finger in the air and headed for the door. “I’m out of here.”

  “Stop!”

  And like an idiot, I paused mid-stride, my hands clenched by my side with one foot in front of the other.

  The room went silent.

  “You’re running because I’m right. Because to look me in the eye would force you to see yourself. Not the man you pretend to be every morning, but the one you drown every night.”

  I closed my eyes, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth cracked. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Don’t I?” she said, the jagged rawness in her voice tearing at my skin. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to crave escape from your own darkness? To want something to stop the voice in your head that whispers it all would end if you turned that gun around?”

  I snapped. Suppressed rage erupted, hotter than lava and twice as destructive. Twisting around, I reached underneath my shirt, drew my gun from its holster, and pulled back the slide.

  “Shut up!” In three wide steps, I had her shoved against the wall, my hand wrapped around her throat and glass crunching under our feet. Before she could say a word, I pressed the Glock against her temple. “You know so much, huh? Did you know I came here to get rid of you, Adriana? Did you know if I pulled this trigger right now, Val wouldn’t know any different?”

  I waited for her to plead for her life. I wanted her to beg. I needed her to beg. I wanted to hear the words come from those tempting lips. All night I’d listened to them hurl insults and threats like it was her goddamn given right. Taunting me. Teasing me. Making me want things I had no business wanting.

  And that dress didn’t help.

  That tight, lacy, scrap of a dress that hugged her voluptuous body in all the right places. A dress that turned a man into a type of crazy that should never be left alone in a motel room with his boss’s sister.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she rasped as my grip tightened around her throat. “Do it.”

  My gaze shifted to where my hand gripped her slim neck, and I lifted my thumb, trailing it along the side of her jaw. The move was simple but undeniably erotic. A strange buzz swayed me off balance, forcing our bodies together until there wasn’t an inch of space between us.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She laughed, the force of her hard exhale pushing her breasts against my chest. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

  “Most women would be.”

  “Sorry, counselor. You’re not the first man to pull his gun on me.” The tip of her tongue rested at the center of her top lip as her eyes lowered between us, then trailed back to mine with a wicked glint. “You won’t be the last.”

  The hell I wouldn’t.

  As if drawn by a magnetic force, my head lowered, my lips hovering so close to hers I felt her sweet breath against my skin. Adriana inhaled sharply, swallowing hard as I pressed my erection against her. Her inhales turned to pants, the battle raging inside her playing out across her face as she tipped her chin down, her eyes squeezing closed.

  We stood there, immoral and reckless, toying with manipulative and dangerous. Two pinnacles of destruction that, if joined, would rip each other to shreds just to watch the other bleed.

  As the implications of what I was about to do hit me, I came out of my haze of lust and turned my face, slamming my gun against the wall. “Fuck!”

  Adriana flinched, but I didn’t stop. I slammed it over and over until the Sheetrock gave way under my repeated abuse. It wasn’t until I noticed blood running down my wrist that I spun around and stalked toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” she called after me.

  I swung the door open and stepped out onto the rickety balcony. “If you make good on your threat? To hell.” I stiffened as I heard her move behind me, refusing to look at her as I delivered my promise. “But don’t worry. No good deed goes unpunished. I’ll save you a seat.”

  Chapter Nine

  Brody

  The scotch bottle was empty.

  So were the other two.

  Frustrated, I swept my arm across the desk and watched as all three clattered to the floor. Grimacing, I rubbed my eyes and ran my tongue across the roof of my mouth. Ugh. It was as dry as the Sahara and tasted like a camel shit in it.

  This was what she’d reduced me to.

  After leaving Adriana’s motel room last night, the last place I wanted to be was alone in an apartment filled with ghosts. So, I did the only thing I could think of—I drove to a bar filled with even more ghosts and spent th
e night having myself a one-man party. A deeper descent into an alcohol-induced stupor in an effort to maintain control. A Band-Aid for the inevitable.

  A decision that didn’t seem as intelligent in the light of day.

  Plus, it solved nothing. My problems were still there, only now they were compounded by a raging hangover. The upside was, as long as that jackhammer continued pounding in my head, I didn’t have to think about missing consulate generals or Colombian drug lords or pissed off Irish mob bosses or lost shipments or disgraced cartel princesses who fucked with my head more than I cared to admit.

  Who said alcohol didn’t solve anything?

  Pressing the heel of my palms against my eyes, I forced thoughts of her out of my mind and typed out a quick text to Carlos I put off last night. Yet another forbidden thing I flipped a middle finger at and did anyway. Val hated texts. He claimed anything written came back to haunt you.

  Bullshit. Everything came back to haunt you sooner or later.

  Cancel the manhunt. Adriana Carrera showed up at Caliente yesterday. She’s not the one in charge of reorganization. She has a name. Will update soon.

  I barely put the phone down when it chimed with a reply.

  Fuck you. Fuck this. And fuck your mother. Delete this shit and get a new phone.

  What was with the sudden fascination with fucking my mother?

  The phone chimed again.

  Now deal with it.

  I rolled my eyes. Carlos’s subtly was on par with an atomic bomb.

  I let out a breath, trying to redirect my energy and failing miserably. This was ridiculous. I put an end to her bullshit last night. She was probably on a bus back to wherever the hell she came from. Swiping a folder from my desk, I attempted to do something productive, but the fight with Adriana kept replaying in my head. The crazy thing was I didn’t know if I was more pissed about her threats or the fact that I wanted to rip that dress off her and bury my cock between her legs.

  She was trying to blackmail me with the one thing that could destroy me. I hated her, but I was also man enough to admit I’d never wanted a woman more than when I had her shoved against that wall. Just thinking about it crossed all kinds of wires in my head again, and I threw my pen across the office.

  The ache was unbearable, and I adjusted my hardening erection, trying to find some relief and failing miserably.

  Fuck it. This was my office.

  Popping the button on my slacks, I pulled my zipper down and freed my cock. It sprang up, hard as steel, the tip weeping in gratitude.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back, wrapping my hand around the base and giving it a few rough pumps. It jerked in response, and with thoughts of her still fresh in my mind, I knew it wouldn’t take much.

  My face twisted as the image of Adriana in that tight lace dress filled my head. I pumped harder, taking my frustration out on the traitorous appendage that couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that she was trying to get both of us killed.

  Thoughts of her flashed through my mind. I imagined her walking in and finding me like this, that wicked grin creeping along that plush mouth of hers as she stalked toward me.

  I could hear her sultry voice begging me to forgive her, the conversation playing out in my head as I stroked.

  “I came here to apologize.”

  “Say that again; I think I’m hearing things.”

  “Don’t be an ass. After you left last night, I realized how wrong it was to hold something so personal over your head. That was low, even for me.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. I want to make it up to you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “We may be enemies, but our bodies don’t care. I saw the look in your eyes when you pushed me against the wall.”

  “So, what are you waiting for? Apologize.”

  Without another word, Adriana crossed the room and dropped to her knees in front of me. Holding my stare, she swirled a red nail around my wet tip, then slowly dragged the rest of them down the length of my shaft. My body responded like a ball being shot out of a cannon. My back arched, and my ass levitated off the chair.

  “Christ!” I growled, sucking air between my teeth. Grabbing her long, dark hair, I twisted it in my hand. “You want my forgiveness?”

  She nodded. “More than anything.”

  “Then fucking earn it.” Tightening my fist, I shoved her head down. “And don’t disappoint me.” She opened her mouth, taking me in until my cock hit the back of her throat.

  I threw my head back, my hips already thrusting. “Oh fuuuuck!”

  “Oh fuuuuck,” I groaned out loud, the fantasy egging me on. I squeezed my eyes tighter and pumped harder, pretending my hand was her wet mouth. The line between fantasy and reality blurred so fast I didn’t hear the door open or the sharp gasp that followed.

  “Holy shit! I—mean…that Rafael guy told me it was okay to come in. I—uh, he said you were just playing with your balls…I mean paying your bills.”

  My eyes popped open, and for a moment, I thought I was still trapped in my fantasy, but the horrified look on Adriana’s face told me otherwise. She widened her eyes and clamped her lips together in a bizarre expression somewhere between mortified shame and hysterical laughter.

  I wasn’t sure which one was worse.

  “Jesus!” I scrambled to tuck my dick back in my pants before I did something to make the situation worse. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

  Adriana’s lips pulled back in a dazzling grin. “Yes, but to be fair, most bar owners aren’t jerking off in their offices at nine-thirty in the morning.”

  Smartass.

  I cupped my balls and smirked, nodding to the floor between my legs. “Maybe if you’d gotten here at nine-twenty-five, I wouldn’t have had to jerk off.”

  “Interesting. And what would we have done with the other four minutes and forty-five seconds?”

  Damn.

  It was physically impossible to one-up this woman. Not like there was a good comeback for being called a one-pump chump. And for that matter, why couldn’t she have walked in here looking like the rest of my men’s sisters?

  I didn’t want to fuck them. Hose them down, maybe, but definitely not fuck them.

  But Adriana was a woman who knew her value and had no problem using it to her advantage. From yesterday’s tantalizing corporate secretary look to the sex-kitten dress she tried to distract me with last night, clothes were just the window dressing to her inner chameleon. I wasn’t sure what today’s outfit was supposed to portray, but at the moment, I really didn’t care.

  The tight black skirt she wore was short enough to drive a man to his knees but modest enough to allow her to bend over in mixed company. Long bronze legs extended from the edge, leading down to the same black heels. However, had my dick not already been hard enough to chop wood, her shirt would’ve given it a standing ovation.

  Her shoulders were bare, that thick dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail. My gaze trailed down to where two full sleeves covered the length of her arms, which was good because combined, they probably contained more material than the rest of the shirt. Two white bands of spandex crisscrossed over each breast, attaching to the upper part of each sleeve, exposing miles of cleavage.

  I swallowed hard. Somewhere in the past twenty-four hours, she stopped being Val’s sister and started being a woman. That was a dangerous park to play in, so I needed to calm down before I did something stupid.

  “What do you want, Adriana? I’m busy.”

  Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes, I see that.”

  Like I said, impossible.

  She should’ve been shocked and embarrassed, or at the very least, profusely apologetic for barging in unannounced to a private area. Instead, she leaned against the doorway of my office with her hip cocked and arms crossed, wearing the unmistakable look of triumph.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’m pretty sure we said all there was to say to each other
last night.”

  “No, you said all you had to say, and then you ran out like a little bitch.” Her lips quirked, trailing a pointed gaze down to where my erection still tried to break free from the confines of my pants. “I’m here to finish what we started last night.”

  My dick leaped at her words, beating against my zipper like a provoked gorilla. Instinct riddled my mind with images of bending her over my desk, jerking up that tiny black skirt and pounding into her from behind until we both collapsed from exhaustion.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Pulling the folder from my desk, I dragged it onto my lap and opened it, studying the stack of invoices to try and force my body into submission. “Maybe some other time. I’m swamped today, Miss Carrera.”

  Undeterred, Adriana pushed off the doorframe, sauntering over until she hovered directly above me and placed a hand on each arm of my chair. My brows dove together as I forced myself to focus on the blurry numbers in my lap while swimming in the intoxicating sweet and spicy aroma of licorice.

  “Brody…” she purred.

  Lust.

  Pure, unadulterated lust.

  That’s all this was. It had been way too long since I’d gotten laid. I should take bar bitch up on one of her many offers. Maybe if I had empty balls, I could handle this damn woman with a clear head and get myself back on track.

  Then I reminded myself she was a master of deceit.

  Don’t be an idiot.

  “Like I said,” I repeated, clearing my throat, “I’m busy with these invoices, so make sure not to let the door hit you in your ass on the way out.”

  She cocked her head, her heart-shaped mouth puckering into a luscious pout that did nothing for my waning self-control. “Yes, I can see how stressful that might be. Allow me.” Without waiting for a confirmation, she grabbed the end of the folder and flipped it around in a complete one-eighty. “There. That should speed things along.”

  It was only then I realized I’d been staring at the damn thing upside down. I fought the urge to smirk. I already struggled with wanting to fuck my enemy, but here I was dangerously close to actually liking the woman?