Page 115 of Drawn Blue Lines

Reality was a cold and soulless place.

So, I kissed him with all the passion and hunger inside me, trying without words, to reassure him that the act and the words weren’t mutually exclusive.

I loved him.

And because I loved him, as he lay sleeping, I gave his lips one last kiss and left my heart next to his pillow as I walked out.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Brody

For the second time, I woke up to an empty bed.

However, we weren’t in Chapala, and this time, I had a feeling it had less to do with sneaking out to avoid an argument as much as sneaking out to avoid a confrontation. One that had one hell of a right hook, I might add.

Despite the fact Vergara was still out there. Despite the fact the Muñoz Cartel was still intercepting our shipments. Despite the fact we now knew why he had a vendetta against the Carreras, especially Adriana, I couldn’t stop smiling.

She never said the words, but then again, neither did I. It didn’t matter. I felt them. She loved me. No woman had ever surrendered herself to me like Adriana did last night. If I ever wavered before, I didn’t now. Adriana Carrera was mine, and God help the man who tried to take her from me.

After a quick shower, I started to shave, then remembered Adriana’s nails raking through the scruff filling in my cheeks and tossed the razor in the trash. Maybe it was time to ditch the clean cut, boy next door look. After all, I was a cartel lieutenant, and an intimidating image was everything in this world.

I smirked at the reflection in the mirror.

Yeah, it was time to lay Brody Harcourt, assistant district attorney to rest, and breathe life into Brody Harcourt,, first lieutenant of the Carrera Cartel.

And the first thing the new Brody Harcourt needed to do was get rid of the Armani suits. Adriana was right. They made me look like an investment banker. But my choices were limited, so I pulled on the black jeans she made me buy and a white button-up shirt, rolled up at the sleeves.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

My phone chimed with a text, and I groaned, knowing if Val heard it, there would be hell to pay. However, once I saw it was from Carlos, I didn’t care.

Not much on Cristiano Vergara, but Ignacio and Rosita are Colombian. Funny since I’ve never heard the name. Maybe an alias since I can’t find any record of Ignacio existing.

I forgot I’d asked him for intel. Since he had nothing on Cristiano’s whereabouts, I decided not to text him back since I had more information at this point.

Opening the door to the sitting room Val used for our meetings, I was met with silence. Val stood in his usual spot at the bar, glass in hand and eyebrow cocked. Mateo sat on the couch, one ankle crossed over his opposite knee, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“When’s the rodeo, cowboy?”

I stalked past him, flipping my middle finger. “Fuck off, Cortes.”

Val just poured a glass of scotch and held it out. “You’re late.”

Rolling my eyes, I reached for the glass, then hesitated as Adriana’s voice filled my head.

“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.”

“Hell, Harcourt. Are you drunk already?”

I dropped my hand and stepped away from the glass. “No, not drunk. In fact, I think I’m going to stop drinking for a while.”

He stared at me, his face deceptively neutral. “Casual clothes? Sobriety? Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my lieutenant?”

“Cupid shoved an arrow straight up his asshole.” Both of us turned to see Mateo, not even trying to hide his arrogant smirk.

I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him. “Are we going to discuss business any time soon, or is he planning to toss out shitty one-liners all morning?”

Val set down the untouched scotch and lifted his tequila to his mouth. “Shut up, Mateo. That fucker shoved his arrow so far up your ass, I had to bail it out of jail. You have no room to talk.”

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