Page 74 of Faded Gray Lines
I warned her once that I knew her better than anyone. I guess she forgot that. However, I let it go because there were too many other questions I had about tonight. That necklace was about to get one hell of a workout.
“Who was that man you were talking to? The one with the gray hair and bad suit. Why did he make you so tense?”
“He was just a campaign donor. There were hundreds of them there in bad suits making me tense.” Holding her pendant still, she smirked. “Couldn’t you see that from your perch behind the pole?”
“Nice try, but I don’t buy that for a second. However, I’ll humor you and move on. What’s this shit between you and your stepfather? Don’t tell me you were just tense because that wasn’t tension on your face, little lamb. That was terror.”
Fighting a reaction, she released her necklace and scrubbed her hands down her face. “Matty, I’m tired. This whole night has been more than I can handle. Everything about it reminded me why I ran away the night we met. Being there was like stepping into a time machine. I became a little girl again—the one petrified of everything and unable to stand up for herself. The thing is, that little girl grew up, and tonight I realized nothing’s changed.”
The weakness in her voice unnerved me. It drew me to her until I found myself cradling her cheek. “You’re wrong. Can’t you see how strong you are now? Look at what you’ve survived since coming back here.”
Her blank stare looked hollow, as if the weight of the world had finally crushed her. “Just promise to never make me go back there again. I can’t do it.”
We stood in silence. I still deserved to know what happened tonight, and she would still answer for her calls to the number on Luis’s phone, but it could wait. My desire for her was stronger than my suspicions. She needed me whether she’d admit it or not, and I craved her like air.
No, I hungered for her. The beast in me clawed and gnashed to be released, and in that dress, I had no hope of containing him. If I couldn’t coax the truth from her then I’d fuck it out of her.
“I hate this fucking dress,” I growled, digging my fingers into the top of her strapless dress and tugging her against me. “Take it off.”
She just blinked at me—testing my limits.
“Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you,” I warned.
She still didn’t move, so I grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her around. Gripping the top of the zipper in two hands, I jerked hard and ripped it in two. My violent appetite for her intensified, my balls tightening as blood rushed to my groin. Tonight would be rough. All the secrets she kept bottled up summoned a darker side of me demanding to be appeased. I’d never hurt her, but I needed an outlet and her tight pussy was the perfect source.
Just as I pushed the tattered dress off her shoulders, my phone rang. I ignored it, her shallow little gasps spurring me on and feeding the animal in me.
“Mateo...” She groaned as I wrapped my arms around her and twisted her nipples between my fingers.
The incessant ringing eventually stopped, then immediately started again. The beast took over, lashing out one last time. Sliding a hand up her throat, I gave it a slight squeeze and pinched her nipple hard enough to elicit a gasp.
“Un momento, por favor,” I whispered. Releasing her, I jerked my phone out of my pocket and growled into the mouthpiece, “Not now, Reyes.”
“Why the hell was my new waitress on the news tonight talking to a fucking DEA agent?” he yelled in Spanish. “Start talking, Cortes, and don’t lie to me because I know she’s serviced your dick more than my customers.”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I turned Leighton’s chin over her shoulder and slammed my lips against hers. “I’ll be right back. Don’t fucking move.”
I stepped outside onto the deck and closed the glass door behind me. I had no idea what the hell Emilio was talking about, but my blood thrummed with rage at the thought that she’d lied to me again.
“I’ve got this under control,” I said, a deadly calm overtaking my voice.
Emilio laughed. “You’ve got shit under control. She’s parading around with our enemy, and you’re just watching. I’ve been dealing with this situation, and it was being handled until you and your bitch showed up and turned it all to shit.”
“What do you mean you’ve been dealing with it? Nothing’s been run by Val.”
“I don’t answer to anyone in my city. I shed Carrera blood while you were still in diapers. As for Agent Alex Atwood? I’ve been tailing that son of a bitch for months trying to sever his connection with your boy Brody’s stepdaddy. I don’t need the feds dipping their dicks in my political pussies.”
The irony of his choice of wording didn’t escape me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant them literally. Was Emilio trying to hide his indiscretions with the mayor from the watchful eye of the DEA, or was all this stemming from some fucked up territorial claim on the woman herself?
The question needed answering, but during his tirade he presented one way more dangerous.
Emilio had never once mentioned being in contact with the DEA. All dealings with political figures from councilmen to congressmen were dictated by Val. He’d just tipped his hand, unknowingly giving me proof of his disloyalty.
Fucking the mayor was one thing. Fucking our cartel was his endgame.
I fisted my hand, my knuckles cracking in protest. I wanted to hit something, but the only thing in front of me was the glass door. While a little blood didn’t bother me, it could scare Leighton enough to send her straight to the police.
So, instead of causing destruction, I invited it. “I said I’ve got it.”
