Page 44 of Faded Gray Lines

Mateo. Mateo. Mateo. Shit.

If he noticed my slipup, he didn’t correct me. “First of all, the party is four days away. Secondly, your reasoning is invalid.”

“On what grounds?”

“You’re sitting in a room, unarmed, with one of those bad guys.” Never moving his hand from my thigh, he leaned forward, his hair hanging over me like a curtain. “Does that scare you?”

“No.”

Yes. So much yes.

“It should,” he warned. “Remember what I told you at the cantina—the only person you should ever trust is yourself.”

“Why? Do you plan to hurt me?” Despite the bravado in my voice, I didn’t really know the answer.

“I could,” he said, his breath fanning over my face. “In so many ways, little lamb. You’re still so lost, so unaware of everything around you. I’m a different version of the man you knew. I don’t wait for things anymore. I take what I want.”

His words felt like a lead weight on my chest. “What do you want?”

Mateo’s lips parted, and as he leaned in, I closed my eyes, the bruising pressure of his hand on my thigh creating a tornado of pleasure and pain. It was wrong, but I wanted it. My body was a selfish seductress who chained my convictions somewhere in the recesses of my mind and took control.

But the kiss never came. Instead, a harsh crunch rang in my ear followed by a sticky drip on my bare shoulder. Opening my eyes, I watched Mateo pull away from my raised hand, chewing a chunk of my apple, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Breakfast,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick juice from his bottom lip. “I want breakfast.”

I didn’t know whether to pass out or smack him.

Prying my fingers off the fruit, Mateo tossed it in the air and caught with ease. With a condescending wink, he took another bite and pointed to my phone. “Call your mother back and tell her you’ve changed your mind and you’re going.”

“Why the hell would I do that? My mother and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“Still, she’s high profile, which makes you high profile. I assume since she’s in a race for the governor’s mansion, word has spread that her estranged daughter has returned home, yes?”

I nodded, my head feeling way too heavy all of a sudden.

He cocked his chin to the side. “Do you not see how this affects you? Leighton, I don’t give a shit about your mother, but don’t give anyone a reason to question you. If you don’t show up at the party, people are going to wonder why, which is going to lead to more investigating—”

“Which is going to lead to finding out about my relationship with Luis and that he’s missing.”

Mateo’s expression didn’t change. “You have to keep up appearances, whether you like it or not. What affects you affects me, and what affects me affects your brother. Keep that in mind, and don’t let personal vendettas cloud your judgment, or you’ll look guilty.”

“To who?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. “Your cartel? From what I’ve seen, they don’t care about guilt—only power and money.”

I expected him to fight me, but he calmly walked toward the window and pulled back the blinds. “Friends of yours?”

I jumped off the bed and scrambled to the window. A dark sedan was parked across the street, eerily reminiscent of the same one that sat across from the cantina and the same one used to follow me all the way back to Houston. The windows were tinted just enough that I couldn’t see inside, but it didn’t matter. I knew who it was.

“Oh, God.” I covered my mouth.

“Open your eyes, Leighton,” he growled. “If you don’t think they’ve watched you, me, and your brother since you left Houston, you’re more naïve than I thought.”

I should’ve been scared, but I’d quickly learned fear was a form of madness and both were valuable if used properly.

“I’m not naïve,” I seethed between clenched teeth. “I left that girl behind a long time ago.”

“Prove it,” he challenged. “It’ll be raining politicians there. Someone has to have a contact we can use.” His smoldering eyes scanned my body one last time before he turned toward the bathroom. Pausing at the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. “Just bat those innocent doe eyes. They worked on me.”

Sixteen