Page 70 of Drawn Blue Lines

“The hell you are.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” Dirt kicked up around my heels as I stomped around him and snatched the keys out of his hand. “Now get in the damn car. As impossible of a task as it is, you have to try to blend in. If you walk into this place looking like a Wall Street Ken doll, you’re going to get us both killed.”

“Jesus, who owns this bar?”

I flung the driver’s side door open and paused, questioning my own sanity. “My ex.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Adriana

If there were a rating system for stash houses, this one would be a two star. A step above last night’s which would’ve received about fifty health code violations and a tetanus shot. At least I didn’t hear the sound of rodents running through the walls, and there were real beds instead of roadside mattresses. Plus, the shower had hot water and a tub that didn’t look like the remnants of a crime scene. My standards had seriously taken a nosedive.

However, there were so many cracks in the bathroom mirror, it was like trying to get dressed in a funhouse. I had no idea if my smoky eye makeup made me look like a sultry vixen or a rabid raccoon. Sighing, I tucked a stray piece of hair inside my wig and gave myself one last check.

“I’m not wearing this,” Brody called from the bedroom.

“Yes, you are.”

Our shopping excursion was an exercise in patience and restraint. Both of which I required not to kill him and dump his body on the side of the road. He argued with everything I said, refused to try clothes on, and sulked the rest of the way to Guadalajara.

“Stop being so dramatic. I’m sure you look good.” Giving my lips one last swipe of red lipstick, I swung the door open and froze. My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare.

Black boots replaced his pretentious designer dress shoes, and the tailored suit pants I had to pry out of his hands were gone. In their place were black jeans that hugged him in all the right places. Wall Street Ken left his starched white shirt, power tie, and jacket behind and got dirty with a fitted black button up, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was a mad genius or a witch with a death wish.

His eyes were still lowered as he held out his arms, the sleeves rolled up. “I look like I’m about to tie a woman to some train tracks.”

I wasn’t listening to a word he said. I was too busy following the sculptured muscles up his thick forearms until they disappeared under the dark fabric of his shirt. Before I could stop myself, I moved from the doorway and stood in front of him, my hands on his collar.

Brody’s head snapped up, his jaw going slack as he took in my dress. “Jesus.”

Folding down the upturned side of his collar, I smoothed it over the tight cords in his neck. The air between us crackled with unleashed tension, and the way he looked down at me had me struggling for words.

Clearing my throat, I lowered my hand and stepped back. “There. It’s fixed.”

“That dress is…” He swallowed and shook his head. “Damn.”

I felt my cheeks flush and lowered my gaze at the skintight red dress while trailing a hand over my stomach. “Do you like it? It’s your sister’s.”

He glanced down at the prominent bulge pushing against his zipper. “I’m going to defer to visual cues to answer your question and pretend like I didn’t hear that last part.”

I laughed. “Fair enough. Are you ready to do this?”

His response was quick and simple. “Not in the least.” Pushing his fingers into the small of my back, he maneuvered me toward the front door. Just as I was about to open it, he tightened his hold on my waist. “By the way, what’s with the wig?”

I was waiting for that.

Did I pick the color on purpose? Maybe. Maybe I wanted to see how he’d react. Maybe I wanted to prove a point. Maybe I wanted to give him a subtle reminder of what was at stake. Or maybe a part of me had an innate need to correct the imbalance of power he’d created.

Glancing over my shoulder, I ran a piece of the bright red bob-cut wig between my fingers. “Camouflage. I can’t risk being recognized. It only takes one Muñoz asshole to spread the word I’m looking for Ignacio, and this will be over before it even starts.”

“So, this ex, how close are you two?”

“Not very.” My answer seemed to appease him. He ushered me out the door, the deep line between his eyes relaxing, only to reappear when I added, “I mean, how close can you be after breaking off an engagement?”

* * *

El Palacio was on fire tonight.

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