Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  It was the response I anticipated. “You do that,” I challenged, pulling the certificate away from the window. “I’d love to tell them how your son hunted me then chained me up like a dog. Or how he’s the one rebuilding the Muñoz Cartel.” She jumped as I slapped my palm against the glass. “How many people do you think you’ll have at your door then, Rosita?”

  The curtain fell, and she disappeared. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt too small, and the air too thick.

  Brody placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Adriana, it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay! She can’t just—”

  There was a soft click, and we both turned as the wrinkled face from the window appeared in the doorway. “Come, I’ll put the dogs away.”

  Ten minutes later, Brody and I sat on a stained floral couch in a pathetically bare house. A few pictures hung on what was probably once vibrant orange walls, and a small square table sat tucked in the corner covered in a serape.

  That was it.

  A door opened near the kitchen area, and she made her way toward us, the battered cane she gripped in her gnarled hand scraping along the dusty floor. Lowering herself into a rickety chair, she settled a hesitant eye on me and waited.

  However, Brody waited for no one. “Is Ignacio Vergara your son?”

  I glared at him, but he kept his eyes on Rosita, who shifted her attention toward him, transitioning into broken English. “Yes. But I haven’t seen him in many years. Not since…” She looked away, a sudden cloud shadowing her face.

  “Not since what?” he pushed.

  “Not since…” Her frail voice trailed off, and tilting her head, she narrowed an accusing gaze at me. “How do you know Esteban?”

  I froze, the words stuck in my throat. Panicking, I looked at Brody, who gave an encouraging nod. “I’m his daughter,” I said.

  She studied me. “His daughter is Marisol. You said your name was Adriana.” My name barely left her mouth before recognition sparked. Her eyes widened, and both hands wrapped around her cane as she flung herself out of the chair and snatched the crucifix off the wall. Holding it close to her chest, she dropped to her knees and closed her eyes, chanting a prayer in frantic Spanish.

  Ave Maria. Hail Mary.

  She knew who I was.

  There was a harsh edge to Brody’s face, and his eyebrows pinched together in confusion. But I knew exactly what was going on, and if I was going to get answers out of her, it had to be woman to woman.

  Victim to victim.

  I fell to my knees beside her and wrapped my hand over hers. Raising my voice, I overpowered her chanting with rapid fire Spanish.

  “You know who I am. You know Esteban murdered my mother and stole me from her arms. Now you tell me what Pablo Muñoz’s bastard son has to do with it!”

  Without warning, her incessant chanting stopped, and her eyes flicked toward mine. “Esteban wasn’t the one who killed your mother, child. It was my son.”

  I released her hand, falling backward as if I’d touched fire. “What? Why?”

  “Adriana, what the hell is going on?” Brody shot off the couch, but I didn’t move. I never averted my eyes as the harsh truth spilled from Rosita’s parched lips.

  “It was a test,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “To prove his loyalty. All my boy wanted was to be accepted by his brother, and Esteban used him as a pawn.” She spat the words like poison. “Pablo refused to acknowledge Ignacio, so no one knew my son existed. Esteban used our shame to his advantage. He sent Ignacio away for months to make a trade alliance with promises to make him lieutenant of the new syndicate.”

  “Let me guess; Esteban lied.”

  She didn’t answer, pressing her lips in a thin, tight line. “He gave him one last task to complete. ‘All or nothing,’ he said. If he succeeded, the new territory was his, but if he failed…” She trailed off, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “The task was a revenge mission in Mexico City. I told him it was too dangerous, and Esteban couldn’t be trusted, but he wouldn’t listen. He was willing to risk everything to return to what he’d built. But I was right. Alejandro Carrera demanded justice, and that lying pendejo handed Ignacio over like a sacrificial lamb.”

  “Obviously, he didn’t kill him.”

  “No, Ignacio overheard the conversation and ran for his life.”

  “You act like he was innocent!” I yelled. “This wasn’t a cartel hit, Rosita! Your son went after women and children. He killed my mother and my aunt. Had my brother not escaped, he would’ve been slaughtered too.”

  I vaguely heard Brody’s voice, and when his firm hand landed on my shoulder, I knocked it off. I only hoped he didn’t try dragging me out by force. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t turn on him.

  Rosita’s cold eyes softened. “You still don’t know, do you?

  “Know what?”

  “Why you were taken. It wasn’t to punish Alejandro Carrera. It was to punish his wife.”

  All the air whooshed out of my lungs. “What?”

  “Alejandro didn’t want another child, so after you were born, he rarely came home. Liliana was a lonely woman, and Esteban was a very handsome and powerful man who saw an opportunity. They became lovers, and Esteban found himself so enamored with his rival’s wife, he would’ve left his own for her. However, she feared Alejandro’s wrath too much to risk the same.” She looked upon me with pity. “Jealousy has more power than love. Your mother ripped out his heart, so Esteban—”

  “Took hers,” I whispered. “He ripped me out of her arms…”

  “She rejected him,” she finished for me. “She wasn’t supposed to die, but she fought for you.”

  As the words sank in, so did the surge of hatred. Climbing onto my knees, I clenched my fists, the accusation boiling on my tongue. “Your son has my mother’s blood on his hands.”

  “He had no choice.”

  “Don’t!” I growled, squeezing my fists so tightly, my bones cracked under the pressure. “Everyone has a choice. Ruining my life once wasn’t good enough for your boy. Now he’s trying to do it again. You’ve kept your mouth shut for twenty-four years, and you’ll have to answer for that, but you make this right, old woman. You tell me where he is.”

  I waited as she did nothing but stare at me.

  “I know he’s in Guadalajara because he held me here against my will. Are you still proud of your son, Rosita?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and while part of me knew berating guilt into an old woman was wrong, I refused to stop.

  “If you don’t tell me where he is, you might as well put that crucifix down. When he kills again, it will be your hands stained with the blood.”

  That was the straw that broke her. Rosita let out a wail, her aged hands cupping her face. “There’s a warehouse near Tlajomulco de Zuñiga. It’s about half an hour from here.” Rattling off the address, she pressed her palms together under her chin. “He’s all I have left. Please show mercy.”

  “I’ll show him exactly what he showed me.” Climbing to my feet, I left her sobbing on the floor and flung open the front door. My chest burned as bile crawled up my throat. I didn’t know where I was going—all I knew was that I had to get out of here.

  I made it halfway to the car before Brody grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around, his face barely containing his rage. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what the fuck just happened in there.”

  “I can’t…” The words stuck in my throat like cotton. “Get me out of here. Please.”

  He stared at me, and I knew his internal debate was between losing his shit in public or private. Either way, he wouldn’t back down. Not this time. Closing his eyes, his nostrils flared, as he inhaled a deep breath before blowing it out hard and fast. “Get in the damn car.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Brody

  Adriana had gone rogue, so whether I liked it or not, I needed back up.

  I contemplated calling Val again, b
ut it was too soon. I couldn’t call the boss of the Carrera Cartel with half a story and an excuse of, “My Spanish is shitty, so I missed half the conversation. However, I’ll call you back with more of an update as soon as I fuck it out of your sister.”

  Obviously, calling Leo was out of the question. Not after what Val told me.

  That left only one person, and I had no doubt his help would cost me almost as much as the debt that got me into this mess in the first place.

  Karma was a hateful bitch.

  I dialed his number, watching Adriana through the glass doors as she paced a continual line outside, her thumb in her mouth, chewing on her nail like it was her last meal. All of this could’ve been avoided if she’d just been straight with me and stopped trying to do shit on her own.

  “Harcourt. ¿Cómo estás?”

  He didn’t care how I was doing any more than I cared about him. So, I got straight to the point. “I need you to find everything you can on Rosita Vergara and Ignacio Vergara from Guadalajara.”

  “That’s interesting. Last time I checked, I wasn’t your bitch.”

  “I don’t have time to fuck with you, Carlos,” I growled, now starting to fall in line with Adriana’s pacing. “Just do it. And get back to me as fast as possible.”

  A low laugh rumbled in my ear. “Information has a price—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Information has a price tag, amigo. I remember. I’ll get you your money. Just do it.”

  “These Vergaras,” he said, his voice becoming deadly serious. “Are they the ones responsible for fucking with my kilos?”

  “I think so. But it goes a lot deeper than that.” I stared through the glass at Adriana’s hunched shoulders, her body a coiled spring ready to snap. “They’re both tangled in the Muñoz family tree, and I want every root dug up.”

  “Muy bien. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Oh, and Carlos? Find a location on Cristiano Vergara as well as any background information.” Disconnecting the call, I dropped my phone on the coffee table. I’d given Adriana enough time to pace. It was time to talk.

  She jumped at the click of the sliding glass door but didn’t turn around. “Are you going to tell me what you tattled to my brother about?”

  “Depends,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened back there?”

  She snorted, wrapping her arms tighter around her chest. “You’ve learned fast. Good for you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s the cartel way. Answer a question with a question. Never give without getting. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Adriana brushed her chin over her shoulder, a distant smirk pulling at her lips. “Well played.”

  I wanted to grab her and kiss that damn smirk off her face. Spending twenty-four hours a day with someone for almost a week stripped away all their plastic bullshit. I knew her well enough to recognize a stone wall when I saw one. Whatever happened with Rosita Vergara tore her apart, and now she’d built a shield around herself to keep me out.

  “Well, I did get a crash course this week.”

  She whipped around, her cheeks flushing blood red. The violent reaction confirmed my suspicions, and I almost pushed her just to see if I could get her to crack, but that was what she wanted. Provoking me gave her justification and a clear conscience for shutting me out.

  But I was done playing that game.

  “They found Leo Pinellas.”

  “Oh?”

  “Official cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.” She stiffened and turned away. Sighing, I pushed off the glass and stood beside her while staring out at the water. “It took so long to find him because he was listed as a John Doe in the morgue at Houston Methodist.” I faced her. “You dropped him off at the hospital?”

  She shrugged. “Not personally. Leo had a full wallet. You’d be surprised what a few street thugs will do for a couple hundred.”

  “Why not just get rid of him?”

  “Did you know my mother…?” She sighed. “…I mean Josefina. Did you know she shot herself?” When I shook my head, she glanced down at her feet, her voice losing its edge. “Right in front of me. Esteban was so shamed by it, he didn’t give her a funeral. He just cremated her and tossed her away like garbage. I couldn’t do that to him.”

  Her confession was like a punch in the gut, and I couldn’t stop myself from curving my palm around her jaw. “Adriana…”

  But the floodgates had opened, and words came spilling out in an avalanche of truth. “Do you know why I was in Leo’s office that day?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “No, you don’t,” she countered, pulling away. “There was a price on my head for something I didn’t do, so I came to Leo for information. When I heard him on the phone with you, I knew I could get him to tell me anything I wanted to know, and he did.” She let out a dry laugh, a rare breeze blowing her hair across her face. “Sang like the piece of shit canary he’d always been. When he told me you ruined my life just for Eden, that was when I knew I had you. I’d won.”

  The weight of her words sank in. “You were going to tell Val regardless of whether I helped you or not.” It wasn’t a question. “You were going to ruin me, and you didn’t even know me.”

  “You didn’t know me either. That didn’t stop you.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “To let you off the hook. I still think what you did was shitty, but you can stop pretending to like me. No matter what happens, your secret dies with me.”

  I let out a harsh laugh. “Is this where I’m supposed to thank you? To be grateful that you’re so selfless to deny me what I want?”

  Chuckling, she brushed past me while walking into the house. “You don’t want me, Brody. What you want is redemption.”

  I stopped her and turned her around. “Redemption for what?"

  I saw the wall coming down moments before it slammed into place. “You think you failed Eden,” she hissed. “You’re convinced you failed Leighton and your niece because you couldn’t protect them from your batshit crazy mother. You have a damaged hero complex, and you think saving me will absolve you of your sins.” Anger tore through her as she shoved both hands against my chest. “News flash, counselor, I can’t be saved.”

  “Jesus Christ, I’m not trying to save you, Adriana! I’m beating my head against the wall trying to help you, but you keep fighting me for no damn reason!”

  “I’m fighting you because you won’t admit I’m exploiting your insatiable need to punish yourself, and you’re using me to make yourself feel better about it!”

  Her words burrowed deep into a decayed part of my mind and detonated, severing the last thread of my self-control. My smile was not a gentle one as I stalked toward her. “Well, if you’re going to convict me without a fair trial, I might as well make good on what I’m being accused of.”

  Adriana parted her lips, stumbling as she backed up. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if that’s all you think I’m doing, then I should use you to make myself feel better. Right here. Right now. Because I’ll feel good, Adriana. I’ll feel so fucking good.”

  “Go fuck yourself!” she yelled, stepping back until there was nowhere left to go. She was trapped, her back pressed against a bookcase as tall as the ceiling. Her gaze lowered, and I wasn’t sure if she knew whether it was out of fear or anticipation.

  “Look at me.”

  She pushed her hand out in a weak attempt at stopping me. “Don’t.”

  “I said, look at me.” She did, those damn gold flecks in her eyes as electric as the sun. “No one decides what I want for me, Adriana. If I want these,” I pulled down the top of her shirt along with her bra and exposed her breasts, cupping them in my hands. “I’ll have them.” I ran my thumbs over her puckered nipples. She was so damn tempting. Leaning down, I took one in between my teeth, biting down gently as I sucked.

  “Ah, shit!” Adriana went off like a fir
ework, grabbing handfuls of my hair as she moaned.

  But I wasn’t done. Dislodging her hold, I shifted her wrists into one hand and held them over her head. “If I want this,” I said, daring her to look away as I released the button on her shorts and dove a hand inside. “I’ll have it.” As soon as my finger slipped in between her wet folds, her mouth dropped open in a wordless whimper. I allowed a cruel smile just before sinking it deep inside her.

  Jesus fuck, I was getting off just on the sounds she was making. She was up on her toes, grasping for purchase onto books and then tossing them off the shelf as her moans became more frantic. She begged for mercy, but I wasn’t letting up for shit. Her pleasure was mine, and I was taking it.

  The minute she cried out my name, it was like a symphony in my ear. Tired of not seeing all of her, I pulled my hand out and tugged both her shorts and panties down her legs in one hard jerk. Her eyes went a little unfocused, and I watched curiously as she lifted a shaking hand toward my pants. My cock was hard enough to cut steel, but I was trying to prove a point, and coming in her hand didn’t support it.

  I grabbed her wrist and held it between us. She blinked in surprise, but I didn’t waver. “Both hands on the shelf and don’t let go.” Once she reached behind her and held on, I soaked in the control I’d commanded, taking my time unzipping my pants. Her eyes followed my every move, so once I had them pushed over my hips along with my boxers, I stroked myself, letting her get a good look at what had already claimed her.

  “If I want this inside you,” I growled, stroking harder. “I’ll fucking have it.”

  She groaned and licked her lips.

  “So don’t fucking tell me what I do or don’t want. I don’t take orders.” She expected me to take her against the bookshelf, but this was my show, and I was the goddamn ringmaster. Turning around slowly, I walked to the oversized chair in the corner and sat down. “I also don’t feel like chasing you tonight. So, if you want me, you’re going to have to come over here and work for it.”

  I fully expected her to flip me off and walk away. To my surprise, she released the shelf and stumbled toward me, blinking as if not sure what to do next. The power fucked with my head, and I was half tempted to tell her to get on her knees and wrap those smartass lips around my dick, but that wasn’t what I really wanted.