Page 27 of Blurred Red Lines
“But they pay with torture. That’s the way you taught us, boss. There are no mistakes. Never admit mistakes. But I didn’t look in the side lot when we brought him in. I never thought…”
“Emilio!” I yelled, fed up with his incoherent ramblings.
He looked up, his eyes rimmed red. “We got the wrong guy.”
“I thought you said it was done?” Alarm crawled up my spine as I ran over every order I’d given in the past few days.
“Lachey. The debt he owed us.” He stopped and shook his head as if remembering something unpleasant. “We got him and took him to Caliente after hours. I did just as you ordered, but boss…” He trailed off, tugging at his collar. “I just found out my crew were taken out. The men who dropped off Lachey at Caliente weren’t our men, and they didn’t get the man who owed us. They got his son.”
I walked past him, pulled him inside, and slammed the door. Circling him, I crowded right beside him and growled in his ear. “What the fuck? What son?”
Emilio visibly swallowed. “Lachey had a son who worked at his store. The old man has been MIA for weeks. My men wouldn’t have gotten it wrong. This had to be Muñoz work. I swear, boss, I only took his fingers and roughed him up. That’s when I went outside to call you.”
Emilio’s normal commanding presence shriveled as he shook his head violently. A sense of dread filled me that I couldn’t explain. I motioned for him to continue.
“I saw her car after we hung up. I called out to her, but there was nowhere for her to hide, and Lachey distracted me. The cantina was empty, boss. She told me she’d gone home, and I know sometimes she leaves with dates, but I don’t have a good feeling. I don’t know what happened.”
My fists curled inward at my side. “Who?”
He closed his eyes as if blocking out sound would block out the punishment he knew would come. “My bartender, sir. I think she was there. I went back to make sure my men had taken Lachey home.” He paused, his face growing pale. “But others came in after me and put a bullet in the back of his head.”
“What makes you think she didn’t leave with a man as usual then?”
His fist curled around a gold bracelet as his face grew pale. “I found this in the kitchen near Lachey.”
Recognition fueled me as I scanned the intricately looped gold bracelet. “Was there a message?”
He nodded fiercely. “Carved into his chest.La Muerte.”
I vibrated with anger and pushed past him. Scaring my secretary was one thing. Brewing a war by interfering in my business was on a whole other level of uncharted territory. I wouldn’t sit by and wait for another message from the Muñoz Cartel. I’d almost stepped over the threshold when Emilio’s bloodstained hand stopped me.
“Let go,” I demanded.
“Boss, my bartender is an innocent. If they have her, you know what will happen.”
I knew all too well what happened to innocents who’d seen too much.
“Name?” I had no time for conversation.
“Eden,” he sighed. “Eden O’Dell.”
Whether driven by lust, fear, or revenge, my body stiffened and my blood boiled as I made the connection. I had no idea why, but I just knew.
Cereza.
Chapter Eleven
EDEN
After stoppingthree times to throw up, the car barely stopped moving before I threw it into park and tore out of the driver’s side, almost taking the door off its hinges. Blood roared in my ears, and I knew a momentary break in my stride would snap the control I held onto by a thread.
Climbing the stairs to the front porch of my childhood home, I opened the glass door and pounded on the huge paneled door with my fist.
Nothing.
I pounded harder, each slam of my skin against the wood timed with the slam of my heart against the wall of my chest.
Still nothing.
