Page 38 of Blurred Red Lines

“Well, I just assumed, you said cantina, and I know your guy, Emilio owns Caliente.” He laughed nervously. “Simple process of elimination, Val.”

Goddamn it. Stop saying my name.

This conversation was obviously headed nowhere fast. Harcourt knew more than he’d divulge over the phone. He needed some face-to-face encouragement to not be a rat bastard.

“Nothing happened. The alarm must have tripped and alerted the authorities.”

He audibly swallowed. “Yeah, sure. That has to be it.”

Of course, it does, you lying motherfucker.

Once I got Eden settled, and Mateo came back, I’d pay our fair ADA a visit and jog his memory. Until then, I’d humor his selective amnesia.

“Enjoy your day, Brody. Watch out for cars when you cross the road.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

It meant absolutely nothing. I just enjoyed fucking with him.

“Traffic. I heard it’s bad today. You’re late for court.” I disconnected the call in the middle of his string of curses.

Every man in the Carrera Cartel knew the penalties for lying. That knowledge prevented lies from being told amongst our men. Unfortunately for Brody Harcourt, he’d find out soon enough why there was rarely a crack in our cartel family code of honor.

Chapter Fifteen

VAL

An hour later, I still held the phone in my hand, my eyes shifting to the closed door that led down the stairs to the basement. Mateo made sense. Continuing to interact with her wasn’t the smartest move, but I couldn’t deny the magnetic pull she had over me. No matter how many times my brain told my body to shut up and turn away, I found myself facing that goddamn door.

I’d taken three steps toward it when the phone vibrated. Since only business associates knew my number, I didn’t hesitate to answer in my native tongue.

“Si?”

“It’s Consuelos.”

Chris Consuelos had been hard to bring to control when I’d arrived in Houston six years ago. One night of Nando sitting across the street from his house in a tinted SUV cracked the Chief of Corpus Christi Port Security’s shell before I could pull my phone from my pocket. Nothing changes a man’s attitude faster than an unspoken threat to his family.

I kept my gaze on the basement door. “Not a good time.”

“Your boat never arrived, Carrera.”

The edge in his voice gave me pause. “What do you mean, it never arrived?”

“Exactly what I said. The boat was never found, but the bodies of your boys washed up on the Padre Island National Seashore. There’s no proof, of course, but if I was a betting man, I’d say they were intercepted not long after they left the coast of El Mezquital.”

Son of a bitch.

Small shipments had been MIA here and there for months, but lately, the frequency had tripled. Stolen cargo was a nature of the business, and I’d learned to eat the cost, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Writing it off as a coincidence wasn’t an option.

With the weight of his words distracting me, I stepped away from the door. “What the hell happened, Consuelos?”

For the first time, fear crept into his detached voice. “I have no idea, but my guess is there’s only one group with thecajonesbig enough to cross you.”

Muñoz.

My hand tore through my hair as my fingers ripped the strands from the root. Scenes of what would happen when word reached my suppliers that Muñoz enforcers had intercepted their shipment flashed through my head. “Do you realize what this means, Consuelos?”

“It can’t be good.”