Page 75 of Drawn Blue Lines

“I know.”

“Then stop arguing with me and help me stop this pendejo.”

He crossed his arms, his stare evasive. “Even if I know something, what makes you think I’ll tell you? After all, El Palacio is still a Muñoz front.”

“Because a lion doesn’t stop protecting his mate just because she left the pride,” I said, throwing his own metaphor in his face.

I waited. For what, I wasn’t sure. For an argument? For vindication? For the door to be slammed in my face? What I got was a genuine smile as he shook his head in concession. “This is new,” he said, running a lock of my red wig through his fingers.

I grinned. “Do you like it?”

“No, but it definitely matches your temper.” Tapping me on the nose, he leaned against the edge of his desk. “So, what do you know so far?”

Now it was my turn to pace. “His name is Ignacio. I know he has hijacked at least three Carrera shipments worth over thirty million. I know the Carreras captured one of the men who pulled the Chicago job.” Stopping to take a breath, I turned on my heels and launched into more word vomit. “His name was José Rojas, and yes, that’s in the past tense because he’s dead. He’s the asshole with my name in his mouth who set this whole thing in motion. I also know this Ignacio fucker scared the shit out of Leo Pinellas enough to put a gun in his own mouth right in front of me.”

“You have been busy,” he noted, stroking his chin.

I groaned, my nerves almost shot. “Cris…”

Closing the distance between us, he settled a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know who he is or his last name.” He tipped my chin up, and I met with eyes so serious I had to remind myself to breathe. “But I can tell you to stop chasing ghosts and start opening up closets. They’re full of skeletons that have been locked up for a long time.”

“What does that even mean?”

“This isn’t about an outsider coming in to take over. This is a vendetta. You want to find the truth? You need to look in your own backyard.”

“How would you know something like that?” I swallowed hard, not sure what I was more afraid of—his silence or his answer.

He didn’t answer, and we stared at each other in silence, the words he said breaking apart and piecing back together in my head

“I don’t—” Still in a daze, my voice trailed off as distant shouting drew my attention toward the closed door. Maybe subconsciously, I knew, and that was why I waited, listening as they grew closer and louder until finally capped off by the sound of bone hitting bone and a muffled grunt.

I should’ve reacted faster.

I should’ve held my ground with Cristiano.

I should’ve done a lot of things.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood there like a statue as the door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it and then bouncing back into an open palm.

An open palm attached to an arm wearing a black button up soaked with Johnnie Walker Blue.

“Your ten minutes are up.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Brody

The command may have been directed at Adriana, but my eyes never left the asshole with his hands all over her. Rage tore through me, my hands fisting by my side itching to take another swing. Coming here was risky, if not suicidal. I had a feeling not too many Muñoz men would dare bulldoze their way into this guy’s office, let alone a Carrera.

The man’s gaze shifted from me to Adriana. “Friend of yours?”

Adriana shifted under the weight of his hands, pulling away and crossing her arms over her chest. “Not even close.”

Not even close? Was she serious? Every fiber in my body wanted to yell, “Last night I had my hand buried in your pussy. How’s that for close?”

I scowled, and a clamor in the hallway broke the tension. All three of us turned as one of his men pushed past me, a stream of red blood pouring from of his nose, his expression a cross between fury and fear.

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