I busied myself with counting out the money in the register, catching pieces of Nash’s conversation with the two men. Their voices elevated as they argued about cable ties, rope, and duct tape.
I barely held in a snicker. It wasn’t the first time men had come in with that supply list sinceFifty Shades of Greyhit the big screen. It wouldn’t be the last. They all pretended we didn’t know exactly what freaky-ass games they were playing in the sack, and we indulged them until they walked out with their bags of sin.
Glancing at my watch, I blew out a frustrated breath and untied my apron, knowing Emilio would kick my ass for being late for my shift at the bar. I hated leaving so soon, but my job at the hardware store didn’t keep my lights on.
Before I got a chance to lift the apron over my head, four hands shoved a bounty of rope and duct tape on the counter in front of me. Jumping, I gasped as I covered my chest with my hand.
“Jesus. You scared the shit out of me.” My shock suddenly turned to unease as the taller one with scarred fingers and a long black ponytail leaned in close.
“Many apologies,señorita.” Something seemed off as he bared his yellowed, stained teeth. “SeñorLachey said you’d ring us up.”
Hesitating at first, my fingers finally found the keys on the register. After bagging the merchandise, a shiver shot down my spine when his fingers lingered over mine as he took the bag.
“Gracias,” he said, indulging himself in a slow perusal up and down my body. I swallowed slowly while the man laughed low in his chest.
As he turned, I nodded to the bag, and the words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush of impetuous nerves. “Big DIY project?”
Throwing a sharp and predatory look over his shoulder, he sneered with a wink that had my skin crawling. “I always do it myself, Eden. Otherwise, you have to go in and clean up someone else’s messes.”
I opened my mouth for a rebuttal, closed it, then opened it again. “Do we know each other?”
His dirty fingernail flicked the name tag on my apron. “We do now.”
Confounded and more than creeped out by his plastic smile, I watched them both walk out the door and disappear before being jarred out of my thoughts by a light hand on my back.
“Assholes,” Nash explained, reading my thoughts. “They wanted to argue with me over everything. They even wanted to know what time we closed, because if it wasn’t what they wanted, they said they’d be back.” Rolling his eyes, he smiled and pushed me forward. “Get out of here. You slept through half your shift, and the local drunks will have my ass if you’re late for their shitty beer and chips.”
Balling up my apron, I sighed and logged out of the cash register. As I retrieved my purse from under the counter, something snagged on the top of the cabinet door, sending the contents flying across the carpet.
Bending down, I grabbed the strewn papers and stifled a second groan as I realized what had been shoved in my purse. Still squatting on the floor, I ran my fingers across the top of the University of Texas brochure.
“Nash,” I warned, waving the brochure in the air. He grinned and held his hands up innocently, walking toward the front of the store.
I shook my head and tossed the brochure into the trash can beside the register. Seven brochures had found their way into my purse, car, and apartment. All seven had made their way into the garbage.
Humidity smacked me in the face as I kicked the back door open with more force than necessary. Turning the ignition, my little PT Cruiser purred to life, and I backed out of the parking lot on my way to the cantina.
Nash refused to give up hope that one day I’d fall in line and enroll in college. Maybe his head filled with visions of me graduating with some fancy degree, but at twenty-five years old, I didn’t need to take Intro to Algebra with a bunch of pretentious teenage assholes to prove a point. I spent three years proving I could be what someone else wanted, and it destroyed me.
Nash had no clue he was slowly proving he could be what Dad always wanted him to be—a replica of himself.
I punched the gas out of frustration, and the car protested, lurching hard into a busy intersection.
I’d die before I’d let that happen.
Chapter Five
BRODY
Still aggravatedat the morning’s turn of events, I slammed the car door and straightened my red power tie. My closet overflowed with variations of tones and patterns, but all were red. Red symbolized power, and it used to inject a jolt of confidence through my veins by just wearing it.
Now those damn red ties made me sick to look at them. The power was a façade.
My agreement with the Carreras had been made rashly with the ambition of a hungry assistant district attorney with eyes focused on a man too old and sick to run for reelection. The candidate pool had been vast, and I knew the only way to rise above the pack was to sell my soul to the devil himself.
So, I did.
Aligning myself with the Carrera Cartel was the biggest mistake of my life. Had I known what singling myself out from honest men would cost me, I’d have never made the deal. Now, with her life literally in my hands, I had no choice but to play the devil’s game.
