Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  I waited. For what, I wasn’t sure. For an argument? For vindication? For the door to be slammed in my face? What I got was a genuine smile as he shook his head in concession. “This is new,” he said, running a lock of my red wig through his fingers.

  I grinned. “Do you like it?”

  “No, but it definitely matches your temper.” Tapping me on the nose, he leaned against the edge of his desk. “So, what do you know so far?”

  Now it was my turn to pace. “His name is Ignacio. I know he has hijacked at least three Carrera shipments worth over thirty million. I know the Carreras captured one of the men who pulled the Chicago job.” Stopping to take a breath, I turned on my heels and launched into more word vomit. “His name was José Rojas, and yes, that’s in the past tense because he’s dead. He was the asshole with my name in his mouth who set this whole thing in motion. I also know this Ignacio fucker scared the shit out of Leo Pinellas enough to put a gun in his own mouth right in front of me.”

  “You have been busy,” he noted, stroking his chin.

  I groaned, my nerves almost shot. “Cris…”

  Closing the distance between us, he settled a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know who he is or his last name.” He tipped my chin up, and I met with eyes so serious I had to remind myself to breathe. “But I can tell you to stop chasing ghosts and start opening up closets. They’re full of skeletons that have been locked up for a long time.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “This isn’t about an outsider coming in to take over. This is a vendetta. You want to find the truth? You need to look in your own backyard.”

  “How would you know something like that?” I swallowed hard, not sure what I was more afraid of—his silence or his answer.

  He didn’t answer, and we stared at each other in silence, the words he said breaking apart and piecing back together in my head

  “I don’t—” Still in a daze, my voice trailed off as distant shouting drew my attention toward the closed door. Maybe subconsciously, I knew, and that was why I waited, listening as they grew closer and louder until finally capped off by the sound of bone hitting bone and a muffled grunt.

  I should’ve reacted faster.

  I should’ve held my ground with Cristiano.

  I should’ve done a lot of things.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I stood there like a statue as the door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it and then bouncing back into an open palm.

  An open palm attached to an arm wearing a black button up soaked with Johnnie Walker Blue.

  “Your ten minutes are up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brody

  The command may have been directed at Adriana, but my eyes never left the asshole with his hands all over her. Rage tore through me, my hands fisting by my side itching to take another swing. Coming here was risky, if not suicidal. I had a feeling not too many Muñoz men would dare bulldoze their way into this guy’s office, let alone a Carrera.

  The man’s gaze shifted from me to Adriana. “Friend of yours?”

  Adriana shifted under the weight of his hands, pulling away and crossing her arms over her chest. “Not even close.”

  Not even close? Was she serious? Every fiber in my body wanted to yell, “Last night I had my hand buried in your pussy. How’s that for close?”

  I scowled, and a clamor in the hallway broke the tension. All three of us turned as one of his men pushed past me, a stream of red blood pouring from his nose, his expression a cross between fury and fear.

  “I’m sorry, boss,” he whined, pointing back at me. “I had him, but he pulled a gun on me, and—”

  “It was a finger gun, you pathetic sack of shit!” Pointing my index finger, I cocked my thumb while tucking the other three fingers into my palm, and the guard’s hands flew in the air. I blinked at him a few times before swinging around to face his boss. “Where the hell do you recruit these guys? Walmart?”

  His boss crooked a finger over his lips, attempting to hide a smirk. “Let him in.”

  The guard reluctantly stepped aside, and I stormed past him, only stopping long enough to kick my heel back and send the door slamming into his face.

  “Was that necessary?” Adriana hissed.

  The condescension in her voice kicked my temper into overdrive. In three wide steps I stood in front of her, rage vibrating off me in waves. “I said ten minutes. I don’t make idle threats. You should know that by now.”

  “Brody—”

  The smirking man perked up at the mention of my name, appearing by her side out of nowhere. “Brody Harcourt,” he said, and I wanted to punch that smug look off his face. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Funny, I’ve never heard a damn word about you.”

  It took everything I had in me to remain in control. My body felt like a stripped electrical cord, and the more agitated I got, the more it seemed to amuse him.

  “Cristiano Vergara,” he said, sticking out his hand.

  The infamous Cristiano.

  I hated him.

  I stared at his offered hand, ignoring it to turn toward Adriana. She’d been gone so long, I’d convinced myself she was being held against her will, enduring all kinds of horrific torture. So, the first thing I did was search her skin for signs of bruising. The tension in my body uncoiled as my hand grazed her flawless cheek. “Are you all right?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded, the anger on her face fading. The movement inadvertently caused my thumb to caress her skin. I didn’t want to admit what that small touch did to me. I only wanted to do it again. So, I did, this time brushing the pad of my thumb over her cheekbone.

  “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  The moment shattered, and my eyes snapped toward Cristiano. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because the cartel you’re with tried to kill her? It tends to make people jumpy.”

  “It’s not my cartel,” he growled. “And I’d never hurt her.”

  I let out a sardonic laugh, my hand falling from her face. “Right. All Adriana has ever been is a cartel play toy. Why should I believe that?”

  Adriana charged toward me, holding up a finger. “Back the fuck up! I—”

  Cristiano cut her off, pushing her away as he squared his shoulders and bowed up to me. “First of all, you should believe it because you’re in my office and don’t have a choice. Secondly, not that it’s any of your business, but I was protecting her. Something you obviously can’t handle.”

  I pushed forward until we were nose to nose. “Step outside. I’ll show you what I can handle.”

  Adriana let out a scream, turning both our heads for half a second, but it was all the time she needed. Forcing her way in between us, she pressed a hand against our chests and shoved us apart.

  “Dios mío, are you two going to whip out your dicks and have a pissing match soon? I’m not a carnival prize, you know.”

  “Stay out of this,” I warned, cracking my knuckles.

  Cristiano bared his teeth in response. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Doesn’t concern me?” She repeated each word with a hard punch to his chest. “I’m so deep in this you couldn’t dig me out with a shovel, motherfucker.”

  Both of us backed off at the same time, staring at her like she’d sprouted horns and a tail. Apparently, a well-timed outburst from a deranged ex-communicated cartel queen got shit done.

  Who knew?

  Cristiano sucked a breath in through his teeth, not moving despite the fact she’d just used him as a punching bag. “I’ve given Marisol all the information I can.” Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he gently removed her hand from his chest and took a guarded step toward me. “I’d lay down my life for her, and if this Ignacio asshole were here, I’d rip his throat out and shove it up his ass. No man puts his hands on Marisol and lives.”

  “Adriana,” I mumbled, and when he furrowed his eyebrows, I scowled. “Her name is Adriana, and trust m
e, you’d have to get in line. Between me, Val, and Carlos, you’d have a long wait.”

  He hitched an eyebrow. “Carlos?”

  I waved my hand. “Freelance Colombian supplier. This Ignacio has made a habit out of intercepting my Chicago shipments. Carlos gets a little cagey when his product disappears.”

  Before he could respond, the wall behind us opened up, and a different man with arms the size of tree trunks appeared out of nowhere. Adriana and I exchanged glances as he whispered into Cristiano’s ear. Whatever he said wasn’t good because his eyes darkened, revealing the ruthless killer I suspected him to be.

  He cleared his throat and tugged on an impeccably straight jacket. “I’m going to have to cut this meeting short. It seems there’s a problem that needs my attention. Drinks are on the house, of course. Please, enjoy yourselves.” Adriana stiffened as he approached her, and my fists shook from the force of holding them back when he touched her. “Mari…” He paused, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Forgive me. Old habits die hard. Adriana, don’t make me wait so long next time, or I might have to come find you instead.”

  The hell he would.

  Giving her one last squeeze, he turned toward me, but I wasn’t feeling as benevolent. I’d had enough, and the minute I stepped in front of him, my silent stare said more than any threat ever could.

  Cristiano nodded. “Harcourt.”

  “Vergara.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leaned in making sure he was out of Adriana’s earshot. “I know who you are and what you did to her. Keep her safe.”

  I smirked and tossed his threat back in his face. “Or what? You’ll come find me too?”

  His lips pulled into a slow, sadistic smile. “I wouldn’t have to. I’ve always known where you were.” Brushing past my shoulder, he dropped his final bomb before turning around. “I would’ve never let her stay in that piece of shit barn house in Morelia.”

  Fuck.

  My mind spun in fifty different directions. I didn’t give a shit what Val had to say. I just added a second name to our intel mission. Every man had a story, and every story had a villain. Cristiano’s role in Adriana’s seemed to be a mystery, but one thing was for sure—I planned to find out.

  He made his way over to Adriana and crooked a finger under her chin. “Hasta la próxima, mi amor.” Until next time, my love.

  Before she could answer, he joined the man waiting at the opening in the back wall. Within seconds, two doors slid in from the side, and the minute they sealed, they were gone, leaving no trace of them ever being there in the first place.

  My gaze shifted to Adriana. She stood in a daze, her fingers pressed against the place on her chin where Cristiano touched her before running inside his wall like a fucking rat.

  “Screw this,” I muttered, turning around and stomping out of the office.

  “Brody!” she yelled, her high heels clacking against the floor as she ran to catch up with me. “Brody! Jesus, would you slow down?”

  I didn’t slow down, and she didn’t catch up until we reached the elevator. Dropping her head, she pressed her hand against the wall, her breath coming hard and fast. “I said to let me handle this.”

  “And I said you had ten minutes,” I snapped, punching my fist against the call button. “Seems like neither of us listened.”

  She tilted her chin toward me and glared. “You know this whole sit-there-and-look-pretty-while-the-men-talk-bullshit is getting old, Harcourt.”

  “That man is dangerous, Carrera.”

  Adriana rolled her eyes just as a loud ding announced the elevator’s arrival. “Here we go again,” she muttered, stepping inside the opened doors.

  Her ignorance fueled an already lit fire raging out of control. My knuckles were white from clenching my fists too hard, and I gritted my teeth in a futile attempt to remain silent. But I followed behind her, caging my anger until the doors closed. Once I knew we were alone, I snapped, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her against the wall. “He knew the exact stash house we stayed at in Morelia. If you don’t think he’s balls deep in this, you’re kidding yourself.”

  Her face paled. “You’re wrong about him.”

  “Jesus Christ, Adriana! How can you be so ruthless and so blind at the same time? He’s giving you just enough information for you to hang yourself.”

  The tension inside the tiny metal box was so thick I could barely breathe. She didn’t answer me, and I didn’t give a shit. I was mad, but not for the reason I should be.

  She’d given me nothing but trouble. She’d threatened me and blackmailed me into lying to the one man I should never lie to. She’d made my life a living hell and would probably get me killed. She insulted me, berated me, and disobeyed every order I gave her. But what pissed me off the most was that despite all of it, I wanted her. I wanted every goddamn inch of her. I wanted to wrap her legs around my waist and drive into her so hard, she’d forget how to speak.

  The most pathetic thing was I wanted her to want me too. I wanted her to willingly give herself to me. And yes, fuck it, I wanted her to kiss me.

  But I didn’t want her to do it with that damn wig on.

  The thought barely formed in my head before I had my hand on it. “I hate this damn thing. Take it off.”

  “Are you insane? I need it to—”

  “Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.” I had no idea where the command came from, but I wasn’t backing down. When she hesitated, I gave it a sharp tug, and she yelped.

  “Fine, Jesus. It’s pinned. Give me a damn minute.” Pins flew at my head like small torpedoes, but I got my way. The bright red atrocity landed at my feet, and I looked up to find her glaring at me, fists clenched and mad as hell.

  With long dark hair falling over her shoulders.

  The elevator stopped, and whatever force held us together snapped. Adriana shoved both hands against my chest, running a hand through her hair as she stomped into the darkened hallway leading toward the club.

  In a complete reversal, now I chased her as the muffled beat from the club vibrated the walls around us. “Adriana! Would you slow down? Christ, how do you run so fast in those things?”

  She was already halfway across the club when I caught her arm. Spinning around, she jerked out of my hold, eyes blazing. “Dios mío, are you always this suffocating? Because if so…” Her tirade trailed off as her eyes drifted over my left shoulder then widened in panic. “Oh shit.”

  “What?” I turned to see what she was looking at when she jerked my arm and tugged me back.

  “Why don’t you send up some flares while you’re at it?” Glancing over my shoulder again, she groaned. “Fuck, they’re blocking the exit.”

  “Who’s blocking the exit?”

  She grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

  I didn’t have a chance to argue before she dragged me toward the dance floor, refusing to stop until she had us sandwiched in the middle of what could only be described as a human petri dish. Bodies writhed around us in a hedonistic orgy as people grinded, touched, rubbed, and stroked to Latin-infused rap music set to a techno salsa beat.

  I’d never seen anything like it.

  Adriana turned around and pressed her ass so hard against me I groaned. “We’re being watched,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Act like you want me.”

  “Tell me what the hell is—”

  Lifting her chin, Adriana plastered a fake smile on her face, and that’s when I saw the fear hiding behind her eyes. The rare show of vulnerability struck a familiar chord inside me.

  I stepped back, but Adriana held tight, sliding a hand to my cheek and running her fingers through the stubble. “Play along, counselor. Your life may depend on it.”

  Whatever little control I had left splintered. Grasping her hips, I hauled her against me, pressing every inch of her body against mine. We fit together like a puzzle. Soft curves molded into hard muscle, and wrapping my hands around her waist, I roll
ed my hips to the sinful beat. I smiled at her sharp inhale and trailed a hand up her stomach, my fingers barely grazing the edge of her breast before sinking deep into her hair.

  “Brody?” The breathy way she said my name was so damn sexy I almost forgot why we were doing this. Good thing I was one hell of a multitasker.

  Tightening my hand in her hair, I pulled just hard enough for her ear to land by my mouth. “We’re going to play a game, princesa. It’s called I ask a question, and you answer.” Just to drive my point home, I ground my erection against her ass.

  She pressed her lips together, trying to hold in a lusty whimper. “Fine.”

  “Who’s here?” Sweat rolled down my temple as we dipped and swayed to the evocative rhythm. When she didn’t answer, I ran my hand down her thigh and slipped my fingers under her dress.

  “Men,” she groaned, digging her nails into the back of my neck. “Muñoz men. They…fuck…” Her knees buckled as I toyed with the edge of her panties. “They know me.”

  “See? This isn’t so hard.” I chuckled and nipped at her ear. “Or maybe it is. You tell me.” Bending my knees, I gave a sharp upward thrust under her dress. Taking advantage of the position, I moved my hips, my jean-clad cock rubbing against the outside of her drenched panties.

  “Ay, Dios mío.”

  “Let’s try another one. Is this what your fiancé left to arrange?”

  “Ex-fiancé.” Her breath hitched as I hooked my finger in the scrap of lace, pulling it to the side while continuing to roll and thrust my hips. “And no, he has nothing to do with this.”

  I stilled all movement. “I don’t share, Adriana.”

  She looked up, raw want in her eyes. “There’s nothing between us.”

  I didn’t answer. Partly because I wasn’t sure if I believed her, and partly because I was suspicious as to what she was doing. Was she giving into whatever was building between us, or was I simply getting played? She was supposed to fight me, flip me off, and tell me to go to hell. Instead, she wiggled, forcing the friction I denied her, and I let out a low curse.

  I stood still, my conscience at war with my cock. The choice was mine. Did I take what I knew we both wanted, or did I draw a line in the sand? Maybe on neutral ground, it would’ve been a fair fight, but standing in the middle of a hedonistic hurricane, my conscience never stood a chance.