Page 63 of Blurred Red Lines

“Val…”

“Would I have done it?” His eyebrows shifted upward. “That’s what you want to ask, isn’t it?”

I nodded, my fingernails digging into my palms.

“I’d like to tell you no,Cereza, but I’ve got Carrera blood inside me. I don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t believe that.”

We stared at each other, our two opposing forces colliding with a ferocity neither of us could understand or rationalize. On paper and in conversation, Valentin Carrera and I made no sense. We were a Hollywood script, destined for an Oscar night win. In real life, we were two people, incapable of walking away, regardless of the mutual destruction we caused.

Val’s low laugh caught me off guard. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Somehow, the damn Muñoz bastards know where we are every minute of every day. We go somewhere,”—he threw his arms up—“boom, shit goes up in flames.”

Risking rejection, I sat on the edge of his desk. “Could you have a traitor in your organization?”

“No. Mateo’s cleared everyone.”

I crossed my feet at the ankles, hunching my shoulders in a protective move. “What about Mateo?”

He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t go there. Mateo is a good man, and I’ll not have you wrecking his name within my ranks.”

“You never know, Val. People aren’t always what they seem.”

“I never get it wrong.”

My fingers curled under the edge of the wooden desk. “You got it wrong with my brother.” Seconds ticked by before either of us spoke again. “Okay.” I changed tactics by sliding off the desk. “Let’s break down what we know.” Walking around the edge, I moved his feet off the corner and leaned in, my palms flat on the surface.

“People blow up when I’m around.” He smirked, his eyes swimming in the half bottle of tequila he’d consumed.

“Yeah, but why? We had to leave the first safe house in the middle of the night because we were being shot at, right?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“Because they didn’t get a thank you note for a housewarming gift? I don’t know, Eden!” Messing up his midnight black hair, he threw himself back into his chair as it protested with a loud creak. “Maybe because our families have tried to wipe each other off the face of the earth for decades.”

“Yeah, but how did they know we were at that safe house? You have a lot of them, right?” Moving again, I stood in between his legs, and braced my hands on the armrests of his chair. “Then, you go to a stash house in Corpus Christi, and minutes before you leave, it blows up.”

He eyed me curiously, a wrinkle embedded in his forehead. “Go on.”

“Today, we leave a second safe house minutes before; it too, blows the hell up. RVC explodes, and after we stop for gas, it’s lit up not long after we leave. How are they doing this, Val? It’s not like they could put a GPS on your car without you or your men knowing about it. Besides, you’ve been in different cars each time.”

Val waved a hand, effectively dismissing the notion. “No, our cars are checked daily for foreign devices. That’d be impossible.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “I don’t know, then. Maybe your illustrious vet confused you for one of his usual patients and embedded a canine tracking chip under your skin.” Shaking my head, I pushed off the chair arms to move when his jaw tightened and he grabbed my wrist.

“What did you just say?”

“Val, I was kidding.”

With his free hand, his fingers skimmed down his neck and pulled out the long chain attached to my St. Michael medallion. Holding the porcelain face up, he gripped it with a fierce hold. “Where did you get this?’

I blinked, not understanding his tone. “My father gave it to me.”

“When?”

“I went to see him after Nash…after I left the cantina. He seemed flustered and in a hurry. I was upset and ranted about finding Nash’s killers and making them pay with or without his help. Before I left, he gave it to me for protection.”