Page 24 of Drawn Blue Lines

Were those fucking tears in my eyes?

Adriana Carrera did not cry. I didn’t cry when my own men sank a blade into my flesh, and I wouldn’t cry over a few stupid words. Especially in front of him.

“I didn’t know,” he said softly.

I blinked until my eyes cleared. “Well, now you do. Things at first glance are rarely what they seem. Dig deeper, and you’ll find the truth lies more in what you don’t see than what you do. Arrogance is the eye’s worst enemy, Brody. Men always make the mistake of looking at what’s in front of them instead of watching out for what’s behind them.”

Thankfully, Brody let the subject die, redirecting his focus back to the subject at hand. “Still, even if I thought about humoring you, which I’m not, approaching Val is something that has to be eased into. Just flying to Mexico City and playing house like you didn’t try to kill him a year ago isn’t going to happen.”

Ouch.

“I don’t want to play house, and I’m not looking for instant absolution. I’m looking for a chance to prove myself by warning him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, yes. About this infamous man of mystery.”

Here it was. Time to show my hand.

“When I was being held captive, there was a man who seemed to be in charge. I barely saw him for the first day or so, but then he came to taunt me. He never told me his name, but he knew things about me. Things no one should know. He offered me a place in the new Muñoz Cartel if I’d turn Val over to him.”

“Wait, this is your argument for me to take you to Val?” I glared at him, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, continue. Let me guess, you told him no.”

“What? Hell, no. I couldn’t agree fast enough.” Brody’s lips thinned, and his eyebrows drew together. “Oh, don’t look so constipated. It was my only way out of there. Do you think if I had refused they would’ve said, ‘Oh, bummer, well, look us up sometime, we’ll do lunch.’ They would’ve slit my throat right then and there. I did what I had to do to secure my freedom.”

“Then you came here to…do what?” He asked, throwing his arms out wide. “Warn Val about the impending threat?”

“Exactly.”

He dropped his arms by his side with a slap. “Well, mission accomplished, sweetheart. You’ve told me, and I can relay the message. No need for you to go anywhere.”

“There is if you want to know his name.”

Like I said, checkmate.

“Sweetheart, you don’t know his name.” His burst of arrogance caught me off guard, but before I could come back at him, he reached forward and pinched my lips shut. “That’s what the hell I mean. Like most women, you don’t know when to stop talking.”

With his fingers holding my face in a vice grip, I channeled the words trapped in my mouth into a glare that could plow through plaster. In response, a slow, purposeful smile crept across his lips as he brushed them against the shell of my ear.

“You just said yourself he never told you his name.”

It took everything I had in me not to knee his nuts halfway up his throat.

Jerking away from him, I forced this deplorable union of hate and desire into a mask of control. “I said he wouldn’t tell me his name. I never said I didn’t overhear it from another sicario.”

He stepped forward, his eyes blazing. Something primal lurked in them. An innate need to dominate and control. “Tell me.”

“No,” I repeated, standing my ground. “I tell Val, or I tell no one.”

“I don’t take well to threats, princesa.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you start considering I know all about your dirty little Chicago deal.”

There was nothing but silence. Brody’s body went completely still. He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. I almost wondered if he was even breathing. But unlike before, this time, his silence didn’t mean acquiescence.

It was just the calm before the storm.

“Son of a bitch!” Coming out of his catatonic state, Brody whirled around and grabbed the scotch bottle from the table by the neck. Hitching his arm back, he pitched it across the room, his chest heaving as he watched it slam against the wall and shatter into pieces.

“Well, that was a little—”

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