Carrera Cartel: The Collection

by Kenborn, Cora

  I wanted her to own this fucked up thing between us.

  “Tick tock, Adriana. Are you going to show me you know how to fuck a man, or do I do as you asked, and go fuck myself?”

  A fire ignited in her eyes so intense I almost lost control. Adriana braced a hand on the arms of the chair and knelt on either side of my thighs. She didn’t say anything. She just held my gaze and reached between us, wrapping her hands around my cock and circling the head around her entrance until I thought my eyes were going to roll back into my head. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to grab her by the hips and impale her.

  Sweat beaded across my forehead as she teased me by sliding down a few inches before lifting back up. I bit my lip so hard I drew blood, five seconds away from throwing her on the floor when she sank down slowly, and I slipped fully into her wet heat.

  All the air sucked out of my lungs in one breath.

  Holy fucking hell.

  She shifted her hands, gripping the back of the chair behind my head as she lifted her body up and down so agonizingly slow, I swore I was losing my mind. We were nose to nose. My eyes dimmed. My hearing muddled. My insides twisted.

  But damn, could I feel.

  Adriana’s pace picked up, her body rising and falling with frantic speed. It wasn’t enough. Giving up, I dug my fingers into her hips and lifting her up, I pulled her down rough and hard on my cock. Over and over, we worked in tandem, her riding me on top as I pumped my hips from the bottom.

  Faster. Harder. Deeper.

  My balls tightened, and the pressure built to the point that I knew if we didn’t stop now, I’d come inside her again. I opened my mouth to tell her to slow down when she came.

  Hard.

  Her hands dove into my hair, her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth dropped open as her body spasmed, wave after wave claiming her and dragging her under. The violent contraction gripped my dick like a vice, and I came with a roar, my hands holding her hips down until I had nothing left.

  We sat there, stunned as we gasped for air. Adriana was still holding the back of my head when we opened our eyes. Her long eyelashes fluttered as we sat pressed together from our foreheads to our noses to our mouths.

  Our open mouths.

  Stealing breath and flirting with danger.

  It would’ve been so easy to kiss her. I didn’t think she would’ve stopped me. But she had rules, and rules weren’t made to be broken.

  They were meant to be changed.

  So, without breaking our connection, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning, still exhausted.

  Rolling over, I peered at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. Three hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough, but I’d trade sleep for sex any day. I smiled, remembering how I took her three more times once we made it into bed, and how she’d fallen asleep curled up next to me.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept with a woman in my arms.

  Whatever this was between us, I’d be damned if I’d let her shut me out again. We were going to talk about what happened at Rosita Vergara’s house and stop all this secretive shit.

  “Adriana, baby, we have to get up.” Still half asleep, I flung my arm across the bed, only for it to fall on top of a cold sheet.

  I ignored the rock settling in the pit of my stomach as I grabbed my discarded boxers off the floor before stumbling into the attached bathroom. “Adriana?”

  It was silent.

  A combination of dread and rage fueled me as I tore through the house, searching every empty room, the call of her name becoming angry shouts.

  Then I looked out the window toward an empty driveway.

  “Fuck!” I slammed my palm against the glass, trying hard to resist putting my fist through it.

  If she wanted to have conversations behind my back, so could I. All Carrera vehicles were equipped with specialized GPS. One call to Val and he’d track her down in five minutes.

  Turning around, I stalked toward the living room and reached for the coffee table where I left my phone only to find it missing too.

  “Son of a bitch!” Hurling a nearby lamp across the room, I cursed as it shattered against the wall into hundreds of irreparable pieces.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Adriana

  The longer I drove, the hollower the ache in my chest became. Why did selflessness hurt so damn bad? Having a taste of happiness last night made leaving him this morning the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  Whereas most people hungered for light, I found solace in shadows. But last night, Brody stripped my defenses, and I let myself need someone. Want someone.

  I almost kissed him.

  His lips were right there. I wanted to kiss him—something I’d never done. I’d fucked many men. I’d pleasured them with my mouth. But I’d never kissed one. However, last night, I was about to give the one thing I held the most sacred to the man who ripped my life apart.

  And then he pulled away.

  I had my rules, and maybe he had his too. I needed the words to justify the kiss, and he needed the kiss to justify saying the words. But maybe kisses and words weren’t important when actions spoke louder.

  Was what I felt love? Was it lust? I didn’t know. I’d never truly been in love before. But if it meant shielding me from gunfire in a crowded nightclub, or doing whatever it took to unlock the secrets to my past, or lying to a man who could end his life just to give me more time to figure out mine—then I guess that was exactly what it was.

  But love didn’t invite danger. It met it head-on.

  And that’s why I left him sleeping.

  Love also knew when to walk away.

  He never would’ve let me leave, or even worse, he would’ve tried to come with me. This was dangerous cartel territory. To these men, oaths meant nothing. Pledges meant nothing. Affiliations meant nothing. I would’ve never forgiven myself if something happened to him.

  It took a little over an hour to get to the Tlajomulco de Zuñiga address Rosita gave me. The warehouse was hidden three miles down a secluded road. It was everything and nothing I expected it to be. Run-down, gray, plain, and boxy. It blended in as nothing special which was just what he wanted.

  As soon as I stepped out of the car, a thick foreboding hung heavy in the air, and the quiet hum of destiny whispered in my ear. That’s when I felt it. That’s when I knew.

  He’d been waiting for me.

  I didn’t bother to knock. There was no use. I pushed the latch down and opened the door, knowing it wouldn’t be locked. A dank, musty smell hit me as soon as I walked in, a metallic rust that only lingered with the stain of blood. As much as it turned my stomach, I ignored it, keeping a blank face as the heavy door slammed behind me.

  My eyes fought to adjust to the dim overhead lighting, scanning for hidden Muñoz soldiers, but there were none. Only a folding table with a metal chair and the bright glowing end of a lit cigar.

  “Ignacio Vergara.” The words slithered past my lips.

  He removed the cigar from his mouth, his voice echoing off the bare walls. “Marisol Muñoz.”

  “It’s Adriana Carrera.” I squared my shoulders. “You’re a hard man to track down.”

  His lips parted in a sadistic smile. “Invisibility is a learned skill. I’m good at it.”

  “Well, I found you, so obviously, not that good.” Clasping my hands behind my back, I walked a strategic line parallel to the table. “Plus, I know who you are now, so I suppose the only question I have left is to ask what the hell you think you’re doing.”

  “I told you before. I’m taking what’s owed to me.”

  I paused and lifted an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  I knew exactly what he meant, so I was shocked when my abrasive belligerence came out of nowhere. I didn’t fear his aggression. I wanted it.

  We locked eyes. “The Muñoz name,” he growled.

  “See, that’s whe
re you’re wrong.” Turning toward the middle of the table, I placed both palms down and leaned forward. “The Muñoz name died with Manuel. You’re not a Muñoz, Ignacio. You’re just Pablo’s bastard son, and Esteban’s little bitch.”

  I barely saw him lift the back of his hand before my head snapped over my shoulder. “I would be careful what I said if I were you.”

  I should’ve walked away. I should’ve run out that door, got in the car, and never looked back. But I was done running, and I refused to spend the time I had left looking over my shoulder. So I braved the consequences and faced him.

  “Was being accepted by a brother who hated you worth killing two innocent women? Destroying a family? Ruining a child?”

  “You know nothing.”

  “I know he lied to you. Esteban used you to satisfy his vindictive jealousy then sold you out. He never had any intention of giving you a rank. That would’ve forced him to acknowledge his family’s dirty little secret.”

  Ignacio raised his hand again, and damn it, I flinched. A sick smile broke across his face as he traced my face with the back of his hand. “Little Marisol. Never fear the knife to your throat as much as the one in your back.”

  I knocked his arm away. “I didn’t escape before. You let me go.”

  He laughed. “Why chase a rat when you can set the kitten free and wait for her to drop it at your feet?” Pulling the cigar back to his mouth, he took a long puff, blowing out the smoke in a cloudy haze. “You think this is about you? Puta, you’re nothing but my puppet. I barely did any work. I just stole a few Carrera shipments and put your name out there. You and your new boyfriend, Brody, did the rest.” The orange end of his cigar zigzagged as he pointed it at me. “Gotta admit, that one took me by surprise.”

  “You set me up.”

  Tucking one hand in the pocket of his dirty black pants, he rounded the desk with a confident swagger. “I simply put cheese on a plate. You’re the one who gobbled it up and got your fucking neck snapped. You did exactly what I thought you’d do, which was to try to save your ass by selling mine out.” We stood face-to-face, the low laugh he let out slithering down my spine. “You thought you were so smart, getting revenge on Brody Harcourt and shutting me down, all while using that new name to work your way into the Carrera family. You didn’t count on that being exactly what I wanted you to do.”

  “You think you can take him down from the inside?”

  “No, but you can.”

  “Fuck you!” I exploded, but my outburst only seemed to amuse him.

  “How do you think Valentin Carrera and Brody Harcourt would react if they knew that you were behind all this from the beginning?

  I clenched my arms by my side so as not to take a swing at him. “They wouldn’t believe you.”

  “No, puta, they wouldn’t believe you,” he sneered. “Not when they find out you were engaged to my son.” His words sank low and hard in my stomach. “Not when they find out you gave him El Palacio to launder all Muñoz money. Not when they find out you lured Harcourt to his club and tried to get him killed.”

  Brody was right, and betrayal hit hard with a vengeful hand.

  “Cristiano.” I stared at him, silently watching as my misguided thirst for vengeance stole every trace of the fragile humanity I’d reclaimed.

  I was trapped, a pawn in my own game, with death at both ends of the board. Ignacio Vergara’s blind ignorance might have changed my fate, but in a cruel twist of irony, it was my own that sealed it.

  “What do you want?” I whispered.

  “I want Alejandro Carrera’s son to kneel before me. I want him to beg for my mercy, just as his pinche cabrón father expected me to do.”

  “Val kneels for no one.”

  The glowing tip of his cigar magnified the hatred in his eyes. “He would for his son.”

  My body stiffened, blood roaring in my ears as I made the connection between his cat and mouse game and his end game. “No.”

  No. The ironclad will that moments ago looked my mother’s killer in the eye shriveled behind that one word. He told the truth. This was never about me or claiming either of our birthrights. This was retaliation twenty-four years in the making.

  He warned me. I heard him say the words. I just refused to listen.

  “Putting a bullet in your brain would be such a waste. Especially when your powers of persuasion could be put to much better use.”

  “Against who? According to you, I’m public enemy number one.”

  “There’s no truer revenge than an eye for an eye…is there, Adriana?”

  “No. No, no, no, no, no.” The same word fell from my lips over and over, my voice breaking with finality.

  Ignacio grabbed my chin, his calloused fingers digging into my bruised skin. “This sanctimonious act is getting old. Don’t lie to yourself, puta. Santiago Carrera is the heir to the throne. You’re nothing but an afterthought. A useless inconvenience. Without him, Valentin and Eden Carrera implode. It’s what you wanted, remember? Reclaim who you really are and stop pretending to be this pathetic shell of a queen. Besides,” he added, his knowing smirk sickening me as he loosened his grip to trace the traitorous dark circles shining under my eye. “I’ll put you back on top and make sure you live to see it.”

  “You can’t want me to—”

  “I want Valentin Carrera to remember my name,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he stalked forward, forcing me backward toward the door. “So you go back to Mexico City, Adriana Carrera, because I have a task for you. Don’t fuck it up, or I’ll kill you. But first, I’ll make you watch everyone you love suffer—including Brody Harcourt. I’ll enjoy the look on his face when he sees how blind he’s really been.”

  * * *

  I had to stop four times on the way back to Chapala to throw up. The rest of the drive was a never-ending blur of cars, trees, houses, and static. By the time I pulled into the driveway and around to the back of the house, my head felt as empty as my body.

  That’s how I felt as I stumbled toward the house.

  Empty.

  “Adriana!” Brody stormed toward me, his green and brown eyes blazing with deadly fire and the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.

  “You’ve been drinking again.”

  “You’re damn right I have. Where have you been? No, don’t answer that. I already know you confronted Ignacio alone. You don’t—” His hand flew to my chin and turned it to the side. “Is that a bruise? Did that motherfucker hit you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. The truth would send him into a drunken rage, but lying was pointless, so I said nothing.

  “He’s a dead man.” He spoke the words with such cold malice, I shivered. Diving both hands in his hair, he pulled at the roots as he paced. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Adriana? I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t answer to you, and you sure as hell don’t get away with stealing from me! I’m a goddamn Carrera!” His voice boomed, rage pouring out of him as he hauled me against him. “Do you hear me?”

  All I could do was nod.

  “That’s it? A nod? After what you did, that’s all I get?” Brody threw his head back and let out a harsh laugh. “Fuck this. I’m done.” Shoving both hands into my jeans pockets, he pulled out the keys to the car and his phone. “You won’t be needing these.” He tucked them away, and seizing ahold of my arm, dragged me inside the house. I didn’t resist. Truthfully, I was thankful for the help.

  Once we were inside, he threw me onto the couch, where I collapsed, my body giving into fatigue and strain. My head lolled back, and I stared up at the man looming over me, his muscular body taut with unleashed rage.

  “You need to lay off the booze. I’ll never understand why people willingly destroy their bodies. It’s disrespectful to those who never got to make that choice.”

  “Thanks for the PSA. Now, explain yourself.”

  “I swear, I—”

  “Don’t!” he yelled, his fists balling. “No swears. No promises. Just truth.”
r />   I winced at the disgust in his voice, but I couldn’t fault him for it. Truth was a two-faced beast dancing on my shoulders. Each whispered words of evil in my ear that would damn me if spoken out loud.

  So, I gave him the only truth I could.

  “Yes, I went to see Ignacio, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”

  He stood still as a statue while I gave him a very abridged version of Rosita’s story. I told him about Esteban’s rank promises to Ignacio. About his ultimatum. About the affair and how Alejandro knew about it. I also told him how Esteban handed Ignacio over to the Carreras without a second thought.

  I did not tell him about Cristiano, and I hated myself for it.

  “So, why reorganize after twenty-four years?” he asked. “Why implicate you? The shit doesn’t add up.”

  He was right. It didn’t. But only because I left out pertinent information that incriminated me.

  “Ignacio was a hunted man, so he had to bide his time. After Esteban and Alejandro died, he only needed Manuel out of the way. Once that happened, there was nothing preventing him from reclaiming what he believed to be his birthright.” I shrugged. “He was the only one left alive who knew it wasn’t mine.”

  “So, now what?” A distant black calm deadened his voice. “That’s it? You just exchanged contact info, and now you’ll send each other Christmas cards once a year?”

  “What did you want me to do, Brody? Challenge him to a duel? You’re lucky I came back in one piece.”

  I glanced up to see the tight lines in his face fading, his anger slowly dissipating.

  He bought it.

  A fact that should’ve relieved me. Instead, I’d never been more miserable.

  He let out a heavy sigh. “You can’t keep doing this shit.”

  “I didn’t want you to get hurt, and that would’ve happened if you’d gone with me.”