Page 78 of Blurred Red Lines

“Val!”

“You’ll have your justice, Eden, and I’ll have mine.”

The sheer square footage of Alejandro Carrera’s estate was mind-blowing, but the ornate detail work in the framework above all the archways and molding indicated just what a self-indulgent, pompous asshole the man was. Mirrors covered every wall as if he couldn’t walk two feet without stopping to admire himself. I almost gave myself a headache from all the constant eye rolling it involuntarily pulled from me.

Feeling stifled from the overwhelming presence of such a narcissistic man, I searched for an escape. I needed air, and I needed it now. I breathed a sigh of relief when my eyes landed on intricate brushed gold French doors that led out onto a terrace.

Thank God for small favors.

As I reached for the handle, a hand with thick, rough fingers grabbed me around my upper arm. “Miss Lachey, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Whipping around, my hand immediately flew to my leg, fingering the gun holster that sat nestled on my inner thigh. Once I recognized him, my eyes widened, then narrowed. “Jesus, Joaquin. You think you could wear a cowbell or something? You scared the shit out of me.”

“A cowbell,señorita? I don’t understand.”

“Forget it,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m just going to get some air.”

“We have air here.” Motioning around us with both hands, he took an exaggerated deep breath.

Oh, great. Val left me in the care of a fucking comedian.

Joaquin Salazar was a new soldier in Alejandro’s army. He was what Val explained was in limbo between something called a falcon and asicario. A falcon was somewhat of a watchdog—the eyes and ears on the street—and the lowest ranking man in a cartel. One step up from that, asicario, or a hitman, was part of the armed group who carried out the assassinations, kidnappings, and real dangerous shit for the higher-ups.

Joaquin had proven his worth in an attempt made on Alejandro’s life near Guadalajara nearly six months ago, but hadn’t yet risen in the ranks enough to qualify for a place at the sit-down with Val and the other lieutenants. As a consolation prize, he qualified as my shadow.

Lucky me.

“Look, Kevin Hart, I realize you’re just following orders, but if you don’t get out of my face and let me walk onto this terrace to get some air by myself—you and me—we’re going to have a problem. Do you get what I’m telling you?”

“Who is this Kevin Hart? Is he new? Mateo told me nothing of another guard.”

Screaming in frustration, I grabbed the sides of my hair and gritted my teeth. “Go. Away.”

“But,señorita—”

“Joaquin, do you have children?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Do you want to?”

He blinked slowly before answering. “Someday.”

“Then I suggest you leave before I tie your nuts in such small knots, you’ll never shoot another load the rest of your life.”

I’d never seen a man move so fast in my life. One minute he was there, the next—gone.

Men were so easy. One threat to the boys and they folded like a cheap house of cards.

Outside the walls of that monstrous house, I finally began to breathe again. Sinking into a plush outdoor recliner, I put my feet up and enjoyed the impressive view of the city lights.

The long trip, coupled with the stress of worrying about Val and what he’d walked into, finally wore on me, and my eyelids closed a heavy curtain over the world.

I had no idea how long I’d slept until a crash from inside woke me with a jolt of adrenaline. Muted voices carried through the house as my pulse picked up a furious tempo.

“Joaquin?”

Attempting to keep a level head, I stood up and tilted my chin over the railing.