Page 93 of Drawn Blue Lines

“My white skin?”

Adriana’s lips parted. “I didn’t say that.”

She didn’t have to.

“You don’t think I have to work three times as hard as anyone else just to prove myself?” I didn’t bother hiding the steel in my voice. “I have more eyes on me than I care to count. Hell, half the time I don’t know if someone wants to shake my hand, cuff it behind my back, or fucking cut it off at the wrist.”

“So, why do it?”

Baring my teeth in a cold smile, I cupped her cheek. “Newsflash, sweetheart, other than a 6x8 jail cell or a 3x6 grave, this is all I have left. And until I’m forcefully shoved in one or the other, I am your fucking familia.”

Her eyes darkened as she slapped my hand away. “How dare—”

“So,” I continued, cutting her off. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’m still figuring out the proper protocol for entertaining my boss’s recently resurrected petulant sister while she holds my balls in her hands.”

“I’m not petulant,” she growled, folding her arms across her chest.

For the next thirty minutes, we gave each other the silent treatment, the conflict inside me driving me insane. I'd never had such a violent urge to simultaneously sink a blade and my dick in a woman before. I hoped for both our sakes she kept her mouth shut, but by the time we made it back to Chapala, my anger gave way to curiosity.

Tilting my chin, I nodded to the envelope resting in her lap. “Are you going to look inside that thing or what?”

“Later.”

“Adriana…”

“Don’t push me,” she warned, placing a protective hand over the it. “You may have been the boss in Houston, but you’re in Muñoz territory. That means I call the shots here, not you.”

“Fine,” I growled, flinging my door open. “But if you think I’m calling you boss, you can shove that crown up your ass, princesa.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Adriana

Chapala, Jalisco, Mexico

“You can’t put it off forever you know.” Brody’s eyes shifted to the unopened letter, still sitting in my lap.

We sat on the stairs in between the kitchen and the living room, just like when I tended to his injury. Only this time, he wasn’t the one who was bleeding. At least, not in the literal sense.

My wound went much deeper than the simple graze of a bullet, and there wasn’t enough vodka in the world to cleanse it. Its gnawing presence never left me. It kept me on edge, pulling me forward while pushing others away. Hiding its dark secrets while slowly destroying me.

The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.

Sometimes I wondered if a part of me always knew things would end this way. That sins of the past would come full circle, and the one who was spared would be the one who ended the reign.

“Adriana?” Brody lightly bumped my shoulder, and I blinked away the burn behind my eyes. “Did you hear me?”

I picked up the envelope and ran my fingers along the edge. “Yeah, I heard you. Listen, before I open this, I need to say something, but I need you to not make it weird.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“When I came to Houston, I wasn’t lying. Adriana Carrera was the only name I had left, and I wasn’t going to sit by while some pinche cabrón ruined it. I never hid that I knew bargaining information would force Val to align with me.”

Brody’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Bargaining? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Would you shut up and let me finish?” I growled, slapping the envelope across his injured arm.

“Ow! Jesus, okay!”

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