Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  I had to stand my ground or get bulldozed.

  “I don’t remember asking for your permission.”

  “Adriana, you can’t go to Esteban’s estate.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “You’ll be shot on sight!” he yelled, throwing his arms out wide.

  “A possibility, I’ll give you that.”

  His eyes bore into me as if trying to pick apart the warped patchwork of my brain. “You’re really insane, aren’t you?”

  “Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.” Winking, I gave him a patronizing pat on the chest before walking toward the kitchen.

  “I can’t believe this,” he fumed, tearing across the room. “You’re risking your life on a few cryptic words from Vergara?”

  Dumping the coffee down the drain, I whirled around. “Do you have a better idea? You have to check in with Val tomorrow. What do you plan to tell him? That we have a few irons in the fire?” Rolling my eyes, I curled my fingers into air quotes. “We’ve been at this for three days now, and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’ve got nothing.”

  “Val wouldn’t want you to risk your life for him.”

  I blinked. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about him.” His eyebrows drew up, and I palmed my forehead. “Okay, maybe it started out as a way to clear my name while working my way into the Carreras, but don’t you see what has happened? I’ve tried so hard to outrun Marisol Muñoz that I couldn’t see that she was the problem.”

  “How so?”

  “Cristiano told me to stop chasing ghosts and start opening up closets. He said they were full of skeletons that have been locked up for a long time.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I asked the same thing, and he just said this wasn’t about an outsider coming in to take over. That it was a vendetta, and if I wanted to find the truth I needed to look toward my own family. This whole time we’ve been looking for this enigma who’d come in and taken over what was left of the Muñoz Cartel. We’ve been racking our brains to figure out who it could be. Is it a former lieutenant? Disgruntled sicario? An outsider who saw an opportunity?” I pushed away from the sink and moved toward him until we stood only inches apart. “What we failed to do was see what was right in front of our faces. How could someone command control of a cartel unless they had the name to back it up?”

  Brody looked me up and down, his eyes clouded with doubt. “But that makes no sense. Esteban and Manuel are gone. People can’t come back from the dead, Adriana.”

  Maybe I baited that out of him. It was possible I dug that hole just waiting for him to fall into it. Unresolved issues didn’t go away just because bigger ones pushed them under the rug. Eventually, they crawled out and showed themselves.

  A slow smile tipped the corners of my lips. “Are you sure about that? I did.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat, and he chewed on his words before responding. “Are you insinuating one of them is alive?”

  And they’re back under the rug.

  I sighed, fatigue catching up with me. “No, I’m insinuating that just because something isn’t visible doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

  “Stop chasing ghosts,” he grumbled, stalking toward the coffee pot, his eyes wild. Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet, he slammed it shut and poured.

  “It’s cold.”

  “Don’t care.” Brushing past me, he stomped up the stairs without another word.

  I didn’t go after him. He was furious, and I got that, but I also didn’t have the time for bruised male egos. I’d give him until ten o’clock tonight, and then I was going with or without him.

  * * *

  Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico

  I folded my arms across the top of the hood and grinned. “Ready to open up some closets, counselor?”

  Brody climbed out after me, the look on his face not as pleasant. He was lucky I let him come with me at all after he made me waste two hours driving to Guadalajara and back just so he could get his own clothes. I suspected it had to do with me suggesting he wear one of Cristiano’s T-shirts since I’d turned his into a sleeveless crop top.

  Crossing his arms, he moved toward the front of the car. “No, but I’m not letting this asshole take a shot at Val.”

  My grin faded. “Right.”

  “Or you,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “You said being together was worth dying for. Maybe so, but it won’t be today.” I met his stare, expecting to see his eyes swimming in lies, but I found stormy defiance. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. As if expecting my silence, Brody nodded at the backpack slung over my shoulder. “Are you ready to face Marisol again?”

  Using that name wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was a dart aimed at my heart intended to dissuade me from continuing and proved his blindness.

  However, darts couldn’t pierce what didn’t exist, so ignoring him, I drew my gun and walked toward my past.

  As a precaution, we parked far enough away from the estate so as not to cause suspicion. However, it was an unnecessary tactic because the closer we got to the iron gate Brody’s stride slowed. A few more steps and my jaw dropped.

  “Well,” he said, lowering his gun. “I didn’t expect this.”

  That was an understatement. The estate where I grew up was a palace. A house built for opulence and excess. It was a labyrinth of mazes Manuel and I would purposely get lost in until someone sent a servant to retrieve us.

  Esteban Muñoz wanted the people of Mexico to revere him, and the world to bow to his power. It was why everything had to be bigger and better than the Carreras. A bigger and more lavish mansion. A deadlier and more heavily armed army. Smarter and more ruthless children.

  More, more, more.

  The more he pushed, the weaker everything became. The inside of our house turned chaotic. Our army turned on itself. And his children became self-destructive machines.

  However, it didn’t matter what lay behind the curtain as long as people believed what they saw in front of it. I wondered if he’d stand by that creed if he saw what had become of his precious legacy.

  The gate swung on bent and torn hinges, opening and closing as if daring us to enter, and once we did, my mouth dropped open. Large chunks of the three-level stone staircase leading up to the front were strewn about the lawn, and jagged, sharp holes existed where windows once stood. But it was the white exterior, barely visible behind a rainbow of spray-painted gang signs that had me stumbling backward into Brody’s chest.

  “You’re not going in there. There’s no way, Adriana.”

  Spinning around, I waved my gun like a crazy woman. “Why? It’s not like we have to fight our way in. Obviously, nobody gives a shit.”

  “Then let me go.”

  I let out an incredulous laugh. “You have no idea what you’re looking for.”

  “Neither do you!”

  I pursed my lips and glanced up at my childhood home, a distant memory humming low in my throat. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “Look, I appreciate the offer, but you would be more helpful watching my back out here and letting me know if anyone is coming.” I started toward the door when he pulled me back.

  “What am I supposed to do, strike up a conversation and keep the nice vandals busy while you sift through garbage?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Patting his shoulder, I stepped through the open door before he could drag me back.

  “Adriana!” he called after me, but I was already headed toward the only place I could think of to go. Cristiano said to stop chasing ghosts and open up my family’s closets. If there were skeletons hidden in any room in this house, it would be the one I was always forbidden to enter.

  Keeping my head down, I stepped over trash and cracked marble as I made my way through the deserted hallways. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stopped outside the door to Esteban’s o
ffice, closing my eyes and taking a breath before pushing it open. Stumbling through the darkness, I felt my way to the enormous oak desk situated near the back of the office activating the flashlight on my phone so I didn’t break my neck.

  Once I was seated, it only took a moment for the smell to hit me. Even in the destruction it lingered. Cohiba Siglo VI Cuban cigars. Rain-soaked earth. A dank, sweet leather scent that hurled me through a black hole of time. The smell surrounded me. It covered my skin, seeped into my pores, and killed everything inside.

  Just like he did.

  I gripped the edge of the desk until my arms shook. Spilling blood created this mess, and doing it again was the only way to end it. “Okay, Esteban, twenty-four years of silence for five minutes of my time. The clock starts now.”

  I wasn’t surprised when I found the drawer under the desk missing.

  Fucking thieves.

  Undeterred, I searched for the other four only to find the same situation. Flopping back into the chair, I curled my fists and dug my nails into my palms.

  Well, that was pointless.

  Time was ticking, so I scanned the room, frantic to find something—anything—I could get my hands on, but there was nothing. There wasn’t a damn thing that wasn’t destroyed, and to make matters worse, my eyes started to sting.

  I will not cry.

  I refused to let fear control me anymore.

  “I’m coming for you, Ignacio,” I announced, pushing back my chair. “And I’m pulling back the curtain.” With renewed determination, I stood and slammed my hand against the desk, knocking off something metal, heavy, and extremely loud. “Shit!” Scrambling around the desk, I bent down, and my fingers brushed against cold steel. I knew what it was without looking. That stupid pendulum. The one that echoed outside his office day and night. The one I still heard in my sleep.

  Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack.

  The rhythm pounded in my head, causing my brain to swim. I wasn’t surprised the vandals didn’t want it. It was a useless piece of shit belonging to a selfish monster who valued power and revenge over a child’s innocence.

  I was a thing to him. A possession.

  Gripping the pendulum tightly, I turned to slam it back on the desk when the light from my phone passed over a glint of gold. It sat in front of my shoe, inviting me to come closer. Daring me to listen to its secrets. Beads of sweat scattered across my forehead and my heart felt like it had clawed its way outside my chest only to be left swinging like his stupid pendulum.

  Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack.

  I picked it up with a shaking hand, curious and afraid of what I might find. And then I laughed. Low at first, and then uncontrollably with my head thrown back. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe.

  It was a motherfucking key.

  I turned it over to find three engraved numbers on it.

  384

  No location. No nothing. Just a numbered key to an unknown lock, which I had no doubt hid all of Esteban’s skeletons. Who better than me to open it and watch them all tumble out?

  “Nice try, old man. You’re good, but I’m better.”

  It was a pretty safe bet that somewhere in Guadalajara, there was a safe deposit box housing a ticking time bomb, and here I was with a key in one hand, a pendulum in the other, and a lot of questions for Cristiano Vergara.

  The weight of the pendulum caused it to shift in my hand, and I felt the small slit underneath the base. Without hesitation this time, I flipped it over and held it next to my phone.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  The light shined on a perfectly cut rectangular opening, no more than an eighth of an inch wide and just long enough to fit a key. I’d bet my life that lying somewhere around here was a piece of wood that once sealed all this illogical secrecy.

  My grip tightened on the pendulum as footsteps shuffled outside the hallway.

  “Adriana! Where are you?”

  Shit.

  Why couldn’t that man listen for once? Standing, I dropped the pendulum back on the desk and pocketed the key. “I’m coming,” I yelled.

  I’d gotten a lot of things wrong in life. I’d made wrong calls and trusted the wrong people. Maybe I didn’t know how I planned to stop myself from ending up the final Muñoz casualty, but I did know two things. One, my father was a psychopathic narcissist who kept a detailed log of everyone’s dirty little secrets, and two, I was about to reveal them all.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Brody

  “You’re going to do what?”

  I held the phone out and let Val yell while opening a can of what I hoped was soup. When he brought it down to a low roar, I held it up to my ear. “I said we’re going to check banks and see what we can find. It’s like playing slots. Sooner or later, one has to pay out.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  “You get yourself and my sister involved in a shooting at a club belonging to her ex and you don’t call me. Then you trespass on rival property and you still don’t call me.” He let out a low laugh, but it wasn’t out of humor. “My charitable side is wearing thin, Harcourt.”

  “As soon as I have more information, I’ll call back.”

  “Brody,” Val said, hesitation in his voice. “Adriana’s back is against the wall. She has nothing to lose and everything to gain. While I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, I won’t trust without verifying. You should do the same.”

  “Right.”

  “By the way, I’ve got some news on your friend Leo Pinellas.”

  Ten minutes later, I ended the call, my chest tightened, but it had nothing to do with Leo.

  Everything he said about Adriana was true. I knew better than anyone lies were told by the sweetest of lips. I had to remind myself she was a dangerous killer, just like the one I’d become.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t know if that deterred me or excited me.

  * * *

  I glanced up at the big round clock on the wall.

  4:47 p.m.

  If the bitch in front of us counting out coins like she was about to play slots until her next birthday didn’t move, the bank would close before we had our turn. Clearing my throat and tapping my toe did nothing but feed my irritation. Finally, she swept them into her huge old lady bag and waddled past us, returning my glare as she walked by.

  Last night, we determined the key Adriana found was to a bank safe deposit box, so after we got up this morning, we set out to find the bank it belonged to. Only now, it was eight hours later, and after driving from bank to bank, my patience ran on fumes.

  “¡Próximo!” Next!

  Adriana and I stepped up to the teller window, and I ground my teeth as Adriana held up the key she stole from her father’s house, reciting the same ridiculous speech in Spanish I’d heard six times already. If there was a seventh speech, I couldn’t promise that damn key wouldn’t end up shoved up someone’s ass.

  Because to tell the truth, I was fucking tired of not knowing what they were saying. “¿Alguien de aquí habla inglés?” Does anyone here speak English?

  Adriana glared at me, but thankfully, the bank teller flashed an overly white smile. “Yes, of course. I speak very good English.”

  “Good. Use it,” I growled, her overly perky attitude grating on my last nerve.

  Her lips wavered a little at my tone, but she was still smiling when she turned back to Adriana. “Yes, Miss Muñoz, box 384 does belong to Esteban Muñoz. According to our records, it has been untouched for three years.” A line formed between her eyebrows as she stared at her computer screen. “Very strange.”

  “What’s strange?” Adriana asked.

  “Usually, our customers pay yearly, but when Mr. Muñoz rented the box, he prepaid ninety-seven thousand pesos. It’s highly unusual. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

  “He knew he wouldn’t be around to make the payments,” I muttered.

  The teller tilted her head
. “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Look, we’re on a tight schedule. Can we just see the box?”

  “I’m sorry, that’s not going to be possible.”

  Adriana’s head shot up. “Why the hell not?”

  The teller gave her a thin smile. “Mr. Esteban Muñoz is the only name listed on the safe deposit box. Just because you have the key and claim to be his daughter, that doesn’t give me authorization to allow you access, Miss Muñoz .” She tapped a pink painted nail against her computer screen as if we could see it. “Your name has to be on the account itself. I’m sorry.”

  She was sorry?

  Somewhere in that vault was a truth bomb ticking away the seconds of the Carrera Cartel’s destruction. Unless I could convince some half-wit to stop wasting my time and unlock the gate, it would detonate, and Adriana and I would both be as good as dead.

  And she was fucking sorry?

  With a quick look around, I noted there were only two tellers and one office manager in the entire place and made a snap decision.

  Pulling my gun, I glanced at her nameplate while aiming it at her face. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Maya. You’re going to let Miss Muñoz back there to get her father’s shit right now. If not, I’ll put a bullet in your head, and…” I swung the gun toward a younger woman two windows down from her. “I’m sure Selena over there would be happy to do it for you.”

  Maya nodded like a bobblehead and let out a high-pitched wail while she blubbered, snot flying everywhere as she begged for her life.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Adriana hissed beside me.

  “Shut up and take this.” Keeping my gun level, I reached for my ankle holster and handed her another one.

  Her eyes widened. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  From Guns R Us—where the hell did she think I got it?

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe from the haul you requested from your fiancé. Now stop asking me stupid questions and go!”