Page 76 of Bad Blood
Wait, where the fuck did that come from?
The only claim I have on Thalia is a legal one. Just because she let me touch her pussy last night, that doesn’t mean we’ll be getting his and hers monogrammed towels.
“The new Mrs. Carrera is the least of my concerns since a shipment of dead women was dropped on my doorstep.”
A third peanut flies in the air, this time hitting its target. Monroe’s eyes widen, and he lets out a hacking cough.
I’m not sure if he’s choking on the peanut or my revelation.
“I heard.” He clears his throat, tucking what’s left of the bag of peanuts back inside his jacket. “One of the port terminal operators is an old friend. We…talk.”
Jack Wentworth. Anotherpendejoon my payroll with his hand out. Meaning that the two associates whose asses I own because of the morality I bought,have been trading war stories.
“You know what they say about loose lips, don’t you, Monroe?”
“Santi—”
“They sink ships…and careers. So, I suggest you shut yours.”
His face pales. “I want out.”
“What did you just say?”
“Look, I know who your family is, Santi. I know what they do…” He pushes his glasses back onto his nose, swallowing hard as I grip the edge of my desk. “I took your deal because it’s none of my business if somebody wants to take a line up the nose. But I didn’t sign on for dead hookers.”
“They’re not hookers,” I say, my tone low and deadly. “They were trafficked women.”
He waves his hand. “Either way, they’re dead. Something I don’t want to be. I agreed to pull some political strings, but no amount of money is worth this, Carrera. Not at the risk of getting caught in the middle of a cartel war.”
“The risk?” I bark out a dark laugh. “Monroe, there’s no risk anymore. You sank balls deep in this shit the minute you walked through my door. There’s only one way out of our arrangement, and it leads six feet under.”
“But I’ve done my part. The Barfly is nothing but soot and ash.”
A cold smile slowly parts my lips. “You wanted to be business partners, remember? I warned you then if you chose to play in my league, you’d either win big or lose your life. You reached for the brass ring, Monroe. Whether it stays in your hand or gets wrapped around your neck is up to you.” I wait a beat or two and let that sink in before nodding toward the door. “Now, get out. I have work to do.”
Within seconds, his chair flies backward, and Monroe Spader becomes nothing more than a department store, blue-suited blur.
Once my office door closes behind him, I spin away from my desk and collapse back into my chair.Dios mío, what the fuck else is going to go wrong?
My eyes travel up to the oil painting above my head where my silent challenge is met by the smiling skull-faced reverence ofSanta Muerteherself. “Don’t answer that…” I tell her, and after another glance at her haunting stare, I quickly add, “Por favor.”
Even with the weight of the Terminal attack weighing heavy on me, my thoughts drift back to Thalia. She let her guard down last night. Not only did she offer me a glimpse behind that iron wall she’s always hiding behind, but she also offered me herself.
I took what I wanted.
And then I broke what was left.
Loosening my tie, I unbutton the first button on my shirt. Something inside aches. It burns. I press my palm against my chest. It’s starting to spread.
Fuck, maybe Lola was right. Iamgoing have a stroke before I’m thirty.
As if summoned, my gaze drifts back to Santa Muerte who is staring down at me in judgment. “Fine,” I grumble, digging my phone from my pocket. “I get it.”
Svetlana picks up on the first ring. “Sir?”
“Have Francois make spaghetti for dinner.” Before she can ask any questions, I add, “And none of that boxed shit. I want fresh pasta and gourmet sauce.”
“Of course, Mr. Carrera.” I can hear the smirk in her voice so loudly she might as well have ended it with,you overbearing fuck.
