Mateo paced the floor, convinced we were all sitting targets. He was right. But I’d argued it didn’t matter where we went. Unless we drove until the wheels fell off the SUV, eventually they’d find us. I’d be damned if I’d run like a little bitch. No Carrera backed down from a fight, and this would be no different. Fucking with me was one thing, but those bastards made it personal when they killed my men, put an innocent employee in the hospital, and endangered the life of a woman who confused the hell out of me.
She sat curled up in the corner of my oversized, black leather couch, her knees hugged to her chest, staring off into the open kitchen. With her brows drawn and her lips pulled tight, I had no idea what she thought, but I had a feeling she hated me. With good reason.
I brought her into this against her will. She still associated me with the death of her brother, and now, there stood a very good chance, we’d all die before the end of the day. Not exactly the kind of guy every girl dreamed of bringing home to meet the family.
Then again, background info told me Eden’s mom had split when she was born, her father took one of my biggest unpaid drug debts and left town, and my best cleaner did God knows what with her brother’s body. There was no family left to meet.
But as much as I wanted her, as much as my body craved her, and her presence calmed the chaos, I knew the only safe place for her would be far away from me. The Muñoz cartel would take what they knew would hurt me the most. They wouldn’t take pleasure in torturing me with physical pain. We’d all grown up with the same code and creed—endure until death, but divulge nothing.
No, they’d never inflict direct pain on me. They’d do it through her. The longer I kept her, the higher the price on her head became.
Ensuring Mateo’s attention remained on his phone and his incessant pacing, and Emilio remained outside talking with lower ranking men, I stole the moment to ruin the only good thing that’d ever been mine.
Taking a seat beside her, I clasped my hands in front of me to stop myself from touching her. “Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right?”
Attempting to lighten the heaviness in the air, I picked up a lock of her shocking flame-colored hair and rolled it between my fingers. Nodding to her white shorts and blue top, I somewhat managed a smirk. “You look like an extremely fuckable flag.”
She rolled her eyes, dropping her head back against the cushion. “God, you’re crude.”
“What do you want me to say, Eden? I’m doing the best I can here.”
“I want you to say we’re going to be okay,” she answered, rolling her chin toward me.
“I can’t.”
She remained quiet for a moment, and I didn’t know whether to break the silence or let it ride as long as I could before I made her hate me. The decision was made for me when she abruptly sat up, rubbing her palms roughly down the length of her thighs.
“These are the men that killed my brother?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then let’s stop fucking around,” she said balling her fists, her body taut. “Let’s take the fight to them instead.”
While on some sadistic level, the monster in me would love to see those Muñoz shits on the receiving end of Eden Lachey’s barbed tongue, the suggestion made me laugh out loud. When she turned her icy stare my way, I choked on my own amusement. “You’re fucking serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking? Why do you keep asking me stupid questions?”
“Because you keep saying stupid shit.” I raked my hand through my hair. “No way,Cereza. You have no idea who these men are or what they’re capable of.”
Calm, almost too calm for my liking, she crossed her legs and sat back into the arm of the sofa, her elbows supporting her. “Oh, I think I know exactly what they’re capable of, Danger. I watched it with my own eyes while hiding in a pantry. I saw them put a gun to the back of my brother’s head and pulled the trigger. I had to watch it all, because if I moved—if I screamed—if I said one goddamn word out of place, I’d be next.”
Without a word, she wrapped an arm around my waist, resting her small hand above my lower back. My gut twisted at the images she created in my head. I hadn’t stopped to think of what she’d been through. My entire life had been lived in a pantry. By the time I was sixteen, I had no idea how to ride a bicycle, but I could blow a man’s head off from twenty yards away.
Our worlds were opposites, and I’d thought taking her had saved her life.
Seeing her hardened scowl and the determined bloodthirst in her eyes, I realized I’d ruined it.
* * *
An hour later, the front door slammed open as Emilio pulled his gun, engaging all four deadbolt locks and punching in the security code. Lifting my head from its propped position at my bar, I followed his movement with mild irritation.
“Reyes, what the hell? This is my house, not a bomb shelter.”
Checking the windows, Emilio’s face held no amusement as he swung his gun from where I sat to the middle of the living room. “Move. Now!”
My blood ran cold. “Emilio,” I asked, drawing out every syllable to buy time. “What are you doing, man? Put the gun down.” Shifting a glance toward Eden, her eyes widened and I barely shook my head, indicating for her to stay still. I had no idea what would go down in the next few seconds and I didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.
