Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  Throbbing with need, I resumed my slow grind, enticing a broken moan from Adriana’s lips. I glanced around at the sweaty bodies surrounding us. The dance floor was crowded, and nobody cared what anyone else was doing. The whole place looked like one big orgy anyway. We already looked like we were fucking. The only thing stopping it from happening was a scrap of denim and a thin layer of restraint. All I had to do was free both, and I’d sink right into her.

  Fuck it.

  Releasing her hair, I reached for my zipper when I heard the first gunshot.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Adriana

  Brody’s hand hit the back of my legs, and I closed my eyes. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve stopped him. I knew what he was doing. I knew the complications it would cause and the consequences.

  I just didn’t care.

  I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Brody Harcourt and I stood on opposite sides of the battle line, but hating the lieutenant didn’t stop me from wanting the man. And I wanted him with a desperation that clawed at my soul. He’d become a drug, poisoning my body with a fatal addiction I craved. Touching him was like flirting with death. I found myself risking everything for the high. But with risk came consequence, and tempting the devil never promised another breath.

  I felt him fumble for his zipper, and I bit my lip. Muñoz sicarios weaved through the crowd like mice, and I had no doubt Cristiano watched everything from one of the hundreds of hidden cameras, but the danger only added to the intrigue. This was the highest level of insanity, but I wanted it more than my next breath.

  I tightened my hold around his neck in preparation when a loud pop jolted me back into reality. I recognized the sound immediately. Growing up cartel, it was the nature of the beast. By age two, I knew the sound of a gunshot better than my mother’s voice.

  Brody’s hands fell from my body, our close embrace disintegrating as his head jerked up. A handful of people stopped to cast a curious glance around, but the majority of them ignored the prelude to chaos, continuing to dance in indulgent ignorance.

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked back to see Brody’s eyes wide and wild. “Adriana, get—”

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Shot after shot ripped through the club, confused partygoers standing stock still until people collapsed to the floor, blood splattering across their faces. Then screams drowned out the still thumping music and mass panic ensued. People were shoved, pushed, trampled, and used as human shields.

  Trying to stay on my feet while being shoved around like a pinball, I shoved my hand under my dress and unsnapped my thigh holster. Within seconds, I pulled my Colt 380 from the inside of my left thigh and scanned the chaos for a familiar face.

  Just not the one that showed up.

  “Son of a bitch!” Cristiano came barreling past me in a blur of rage and shoved Brody into a screaming wall of people. “Get her out of here!”

  All I could do was watch as Brody came back with a vengeance. Grabbing a handful of Cristiano’s shirt, he wrenched him forward and growled through clenched teeth, “You’re the one with invisible doors. You get her out of here!”

  Before Cristiano could react, Brody shoved him backward with so much force he tripped and slammed into the mirrored wall behind him. I stood there with my mouth open and a loaded gun in my hand in shock. I’d never seen anyone manhandle Cristiano Vergara like that. I’d never seen anyone dare try. I was surprised Brody was still breathing, and from the look on Cristiano’s face, so was he.

  I jumped as a new round of shots rang out. Steadying my trigger finger, I turned to shout orders when Brody’s muscular arm hooked around my upper back.

  “What the—” That was all I got out before the room spun in a frenzied swirl of light and sound as I crashed into Cristiano’s hard chest.

  “Dios mío,” he wheezed.

  It was dark, but that didn’t hide the glint of steel I saw in Brody’s hand. My stomach dropped. What the hell was he planning to do? Take them all out by himself? We were supposed to be in this together. I was a trained killer, not some damsel in distress.

  Stupid motherfucker.

  I scrambled to my feet, only to be spun back around into the arms of the abnormally large dickhead from upstairs. Cristiano took my gun out of my hand and nodded to him, something unspoken passing between them. “Take her to the rattle room,” he instructed, pulling his own gun from inside his jacket. “Keep her quiet by any means necessary.”

  “Give me back my gun!” I yelled. “And what the hell is a rattle room?” He didn’t answer. His back was already turned as he walked away, swallowed into the thinning but still hysterical crowd. When the guard started toward a door near the corner of the room, I did the only thing I could think of. I went limp and became one hundred and twenty-seven pounds of dead weight.

  He dragged me two feet before turning to glare at me. “You think I won’t throw your ass over my shoulder, puta?” I pinched my lips together and glared right back at him. Sighing, he bent down, scooping me up like I weighed nothing and tossed me over his shoulder. “Now shut up, or I’ll gag you. Boss’s orders.”

  I lifted my head, a cold numbness spreading through me as I took in the destruction and carnage. The room that moments ago was alive with the scent of desire now smelled metallic, a stench fueled by blood and revenge. Death never bothered me before, but as I watched Brody and Cristiano grow smaller and smaller with every step, my heart lodged in my throat

  I couldn’t leave them.

  I struggled, beating my fists against his back, but the harder I hit, the tighter his grip became. “Let me go!”

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  I sighed. “Have it your way.”

  I had long legs. They came in handy during strenuous physical activities like running, rock climbing or kicking a man in the balls while hanging upside down.

  Plus, they looked great in heels.

  Bracing my hands on his back and my knee against his stomach, I swung my foot as hard as I could and prayed. His muffled grunt was my only warning before we both hit the floor. Luckily, my hands took the brunt of my fall, and I quickly got to my feet, leaving him groaning on his knees.

  Brody and Cristiano stood back to back, guns firing when I ran toward them. Cristiano saw me a fraction of a moment too late. I pulled my fist back and swung, his head snapping back with the force of my momentum.

  Damn, that hurt.

  He grabbed his chin. “What the fuck?”

  “Give me my gun.” I half expected him to argue, but to my surprise he dug inside his jacket and dropped it my waiting hand. “If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll shoot your dick off and shove it up your ass.”

  He glanced at Brody. “Is she like this all the time?”

  “Yep.” Brody shrugged, and his face contorted in pain. That was when I noticed the sheen of sweat coating his forehead and the rip in the arm of his shirt.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t wait for an answer. My hands were on him despite multiple attempts to push me away. I prodded at the hole, my fingers coating in warm, sticky wetness. “Dios mío, you’re bleeding!”

  He’d been shot, and I wasn’t here to prevent it.

  Brody gently held my wrist. “Adriana, stop. A bullet grazed my arm. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing!” I yelled, a foreign panic tearing through me. “You could’ve been killed! Do you think about anybody but yourself?” Gasping for air, I braced my hands on my thighs and looked up to see both men staring at me like they’d encountered an untamed animal in the wild.

  Shit.

  Avoiding their eyes, I stood and cleared my throat. “Status.”

  Cristiano nodded. “They were definitely Muñoz. Five of them. Two at the entrance, one at the bar, and two at the east and west side of the dance floor. Three confirmed dead, one ran like a little bitch. I’ve got men o
n him now.”

  “And the fifth?”

  The two men exchanged glances. “That’s why we’re still shooting.”

  “But you’re an associate. Why would they turn on you like this?”

  He steadied his eyes on the entrance, then, drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled hard and leveled a stare at me. “I’ve told you, Mari. Information comes with a price.”

  Deep down, I already knew it, but it still cut deep to hear the words. “They came for me and sacrificed you.” For the first time, I really saw what I caused by coming here. The blood, the death, the bodies. The dozens of lives lost because of a last name that was never even mine to start with. “All these people…” I swallowed, glancing up at Brody, guilt washing over me in a sickening red wave. “We have to go.”

  “Adriana,” he said, his tone cautious. “If they found us here, they can find us anywhere. We can’t go back to the stash house. That’ll be the first place they look.”

  “I have a place you can go to.” We both turned toward Cristiano, still rubbing his now swollen jaw. “No one knows about it, not even my own men.” He shot me a pointed look. “You know the code.”

  Brody stiffened beside me, and I blew out a breath. I knew the place Cristiano referred to, and he was right. I did know the code. I knew it because I chose it, and the thought of being there with Brody sent my heart free falling into my stomach.

  Then reality arrived with a sharp reminder. “I don’t think…” I winced, blowing out a painful breath. “I mean, I have to go…”

  Cristiano held up a hand. “It’s okay. I have you covered. There’s still plenty—”

  “Perfect!” Taking Brody’s hand, I rushed toward the entrance before he said anything else. “We’ll go now.” Glancing back, I nodded toward his gun. “Got my back?”

  I blinked, confused at the hint of sadness that flashed in his eyes.

  “Always.”

  * * *

  Chapala, Jalisco, Mexico

  After I convinced Brody to wait until tomorrow to call Val with an update, we drove in silence for an hour in the rain before reaching Cristiano’s Lake Chapala house. As soon as the stone staircase came into view, I tensed. I spent sixty minutes steeling myself for Brody’s reaction, but still cringed when I heard the low, what the fuck muttered under his breath.

  I could’ve prepared him, but what was the use? It was going to be a fight regardless—one which I preferred not to have at sixty miles per hour.

  And one we still hadn’t had half an hour later.

  At least, not about that.

  “I told you it’s fine,” he growled.

  “And I told you even flesh wounds can cause gangrene if they’re not cleaned. Now shut up and let me look at it.”

  It was a little extreme, but he was being unreasonable. We were too close to uncovering the truth for him to die from septic shock and a petulant male ego. Plus, I could tell by his parted lips and labored breath he was in more pain than he let on.

  Groaning, he slumped onto the three thin steps dividing the kitchen from the living room, slamming his feet onto the bottom step, and hooking his elbow onto his knee. It wasn’t exactly an open invitation, but knowing Brody, it was the closest I’d get.

  I rummaged through the kitchen in search of a first-aid kit, flinging open cabinets and cursing Cristiano’s name and still coming up empty. Frustrated, I collapsed against the counter and scrubbed my hands down my face.

  Could one damn thing go right tonight? I’d already gotten a few dozen people killed. All I wanted was a bandage and some fucking antiseptic. Was that too much to ask? Tipping my head back, I pressed my palm against my forehead and twisted a handful of my hair between my fingers.

  God, I needed a drink.

  My head snapped up so fast the room blurred. Holy shit, that was exactly what I needed.

  I searched the kitchen again, this time focused and methodical. By the time I plopped down next to Brody, he was half-asleep, his forehead pressed against his opposite knee.

  “Rise and shine, counselor. It’s time to play doctor.”

  He popped one eye open. “Is this a joke?”

  “Nope. Take off your shirt.” Rolling my eyes at his smirk, I held up a pair of scissors. “You wish. I need to make a bandage.”

  He narrowed his eyes, clearly not trusting a word out of my mouth. Not that I blamed him. But he didn’t have much of a choice, and he knew it. I waited as he opened one agonizing button at a time, and the minute the fabric slipped off his shoulders, all the air sucked out of the room. He paused, raising an eyebrow at my choked gasp, our eyes tangling with ferocity.

  “Are you all right?”

  I forced my eyes away from his chest and settled them on the blood coating his arm. His beautiful unmarred skin was now stained a deep scarlet. Luckily, most of the bleeding had slowed down, only a trickle of red still snaking down in a jagged trail toward his wrist.

  He was right. It was a flesh wound, but a few inches to the right and we wouldn’t have been having this conversation. Pushing it out of my head, I busied myself cutting his shirt into strips, trying to ignore the heat of his stare. Setting them out in front of me, I forced everything out of my mind but the task at hand.

  “Face forward and put your elbow on your knee.”

  He did as I asked without arguing. Wadding up a few strips of his shirt in one hand, I picked up the bottle with the other and unscrewed the cap with my teeth. I’d barely tipped the neck when he flinched, and his elbow knocked against the side of the glass, dousing my legs instead of his arm.

  “Hold still and stop being such a baby.”

  He gritted his teeth and scowled. “It fucking burns.”

  “It’s eighty proof vodka,” I snapped. “It’s supposed to fucking burn.” Done coddling him, I trapped his injured arm between my forearm and his knee and turned the damn bottle upside down, watching most of what was left splash on his skin.

  He sucked in a harsh breath, muttering a slew of intelligible curses, but didn’t pull away. I didn’t know whether it was out of trust or necessity and I didn’t care to dig deep enough to find out. Keeping my head down, I cleaned, dried, and wrapped the remaining strips around his arm until there was nothing left to do. No reason left to touch him.

  Rubbing my thumb across the secure knot I made in the bandage, I gave his shoulder a soft pat. “There, I think you’ll live.” Gathering the scissors and empty vodka bottle, I started to stand when he grabbed my arm.

  “It was supposed to be yours, wasn’t it?”

  “What?”

  Lifting his uninjured arm, he motioned around us. “This place. You knew the code because he bought it for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Adriana

  I swallowed hard while taking in his tightened jaw and pinched expression. “Brody, come on, don’t do this.”

  “What happened between you and him?”

  “Does it matter?”

  He released my wrist, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before a vicious laugh wiped it away. “Considering it rained a fuckton of bullets in the middle of his nightclub tonight, I’d say, yeah, it matters a lot.”

  Sighing, I set the supplies down and rubbed my palms up and down my still damp legs. I didn’t want to have this conversation now. I didn’t want to have this conversation ever. But it was naïve to expect Brody to stay in another man’s house without demanding answers. But how did I give him answers to a question I still didn’t understand myself?

  I considered lying, but what was the use? We were too deep into this for such barrier tactics to work, and I had too little time to reap the benefits even if they did. Stepping off the final two steps into the living room, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I met Cristiano when I was nineteen,” I said, staring out the sliding glass doors at the falling rain. “He was a low-level runner trying to work his way up the ranks by doing all the wrong things. He had a chip on his shoulder and a problem with authority. Esteban and Manuel hated
him, but in less than a year, he was our highest earner, so there wasn’t much they could say. Cris was one of the few who didn’t think the path to the top detoured through my pants.” I laughed. “In fact, he hated me.”

  “You do have a pattern.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and shrugged. “You know how it goes. Tell a kid they can’t have a piece of candy, and they want it twice as much. When I wasn’t attending universidad, I hung around him and—”

  “Let me guess—you wore him down until he fell in love.”

  “Actually, I pissed him off so much he ratted me out to Esteban.”

  “You’re a glutton for punishment.”

  “What can I say? I love candy.” Flashing him a lethal smile, I cocked a hip against the back of the couch. “Esteban was so impressed he had the balls to do that, he took the time to get to know him and ended up making him a top sicario. I guess that was what finally pushed us together. Two years later, we were engaged, and he was about to make him a lieutenant.”

  “But, he didn’t.”

  I shook my head. “No. Esteban died two days before it was supposed to happen. By default, Manuel took control of the cartel, and Cris’s chance was gone. Manuel was already threatened by him, so he took immense pleasure in denying his rank. That was the beginning of the end.”

  “So, how did he end up with El Palacio?”

  I narrowed a suspicious gaze at him, wondering what angle he was pushing. However, he lost the snide tone and seemed genuinely interested in the answer, so I opened up and spilled my most private secrets to the one man who’d proven he couldn’t be trusted with them.

  “I didn’t have the power to make Cris a lieutenant, but no one could stop me from giving him one of our clubs. El Palacio is one of the cartel’s biggest money laundering fronts. Every Muñoz deal eventually runs through him. Manuel may have pushed him out of the inner circle, but I got the last laugh.” My eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “In the end, Cris had more inside information and power than any lieutenant ever could.”