Page 97 of Drawn Blue Lines

“He had no choice.”

“Don’t!” I growled, squeezing my fists so tightly, my bones cracked under the pressure. “Everyone has a choice. Ruining my life once wasn’t good enough for your boy. Now he’s trying to do it again. You’ve kept your mouth shut for twenty-four years, and you’ll have to answer for that, but you make this right, old woman. You tell me where he is.”

I waited as she did nothing but stare at me.

“I know he’s in Guadalajara because he held me here against my will. Are you still proud of your son, Rosita?”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and while part of me knew berating guilt into an old woman was wrong, I refused to stop.

“If you don’t tell me where he is, you might as well put that crucifix down. When he kills again, it will be your hands stained with the blood.”

That was the straw that broke her. Rosita let out a wail, her aged hands cupping her face. “There’s a warehouse near Tlajomulco de Zuñiga. It’s about half an hour from here.” Rattling off the address, she pressed her palms together under her chin. “He’s all I have left. Please show mercy.”

“I’ll show him exactly what he showed me.” Climbing to my feet, I left her sobbing on the floor and flung open the front door. My chest burned as bile crawled up my throat. I didn’t know where I was going—all I knew was that I had to get out of here.

I made it halfway to the car before Brody grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around, his face barely containing his rage. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what the fuck just happened in there.”

“I can’t…” The words stuck in my throat like cotton. “Get me out of here. Please.”

He stared at me, and I knew his internal debate was between losing his shit in public or private. Either way, he wouldn’t back down. Not this time. Closing his eyes, his nostrils flared, as he inhaled a deep breath before blowing it out hard and fast. “Get in the damn car.”

Chapter Thirty

Brody

Adriana had gone rogue, so whether I liked it or not, I needed back up.

I contemplated calling Val again, but it was too soon. I couldn’t call the boss of the Carrera Cartel with half a story and an excuse of, “My Spanish is shitty, so I missed half the conversation. However, I’ll call you back with more of an update as soon as I fuck it out of your sister.”

Obviously, calling Leo was out of the question. Not after what Val told me.

That left only one person, and I had no doubt his help would cost me almost as much as the debt that got me into this mess in the first place.

Karma was a hateful bitch.

I dialed his number, watching Adriana through the glass doors as she paced a continual line outside, her thumb in her mouth, chewing on her nail like it was her last meal. All of this could’ve been avoided if she’d just been straight with me and stopped trying to do shit on her own.

“Harcourt. ¿Cómo estás?”

He didn’t care how I was doing any more than I cared about him. So, I got straight to the point. “I need you to find everything you can on Rosita Vergara and Ignacio Vergara from Guadalajara.”

“That’s interesting. Last time I checked, I wasn’t your bitch.”

“I don’t have time to fuck with you, Carlos,” I growled, now starting to fall in line with Adriana’s pacing. “Just do it. And get back to me as fast as possible.”

A low laugh rumbled in my ear. “Information has a price—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Information has a price tag, amigo. I remember. I’ll get you your money. Just do it.”

“These Vergaras,” he said, his voice becoming deadly serious. “Are they the ones responsible for fucking with my kilos?”

“I think so. But it goes a lot deeper than that.” I stared through the glass at Adriana’s hunched shoulders, her body a coiled spring ready to snap. “They’re both tangled in the Muñoz family tree, and I want every root dug up.”

“Muy bien. I’ll be in touch.”

“Oh, and Carlos? Find a location on Cristiano Vergara as well as any background information.” Disconnecting the call, I dropped my phone on the coffee table. I’d given Adriana enough time to pace. It was time to talk.

She jumped at the click of the sliding glass door but didn’t turn around. “Are you going to tell me what you tattled to my brother about?”

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