Page 58 of Faded Gray Lines

“No.” Which was a lie. Alex and his trench coat-wearing guard dogs knew. However, there were only so many truth-bombs my brother could handle in one day, and I was pretty sure he’d reached his quota.

Trench coat.

Oh, God.

Remembering that Swenson’s coat was in Mateo’s possession broke me out into a cold sweat. The last thing I wanted was for him to find out I’d been talking to an agent instead of an overly-friendly barfly.

However, when Brody let out a string of curses, Swenson became the least of my worries.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, running his hand over the top of his messy blond hair. “Does this mean Mateo—”

I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter.”

He snapped his head around and glared at me. “The hell it doesn’t! You’ve got to tell him.”

“He knows.” The words tasted bitter.

“What do you mean, ‘he knows’?”

I faced him with a sardonic smile. “Seventeen.”

He turned into Caliente’s parking lot and furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I left seventeen messages. Are you telling me he didn’t get any of them when he got out of prison?” I let out a humorless laugh as he pulled around to the back of the cantina. “Don’t sit there and preach to me about what I have to do. I don’thaveto do shit but protect the people I love.”

Parking the car, Brody turned, shaking his head in denial. “You can’t think he’d be a danger. You’refamilia.”

“Fuck yourfamilia,” I hissed, reaching for the door handle. “For once, things are on my terms. I’ll handle this myself.”

I was halfway out of the car when he grabbed my arm. “You’ve always got me.”

In theory, I did, but because of who he’d aligned himself with, our relationship had changed.

“I can’t stay here, Brody,” I said, releasing his hold before I broke down. “You know it, and I know it.”

Slamming the door, I left one confrontation and walked straight into another.

* * *

Amanda wagged her thumb over her shoulder. “Table number twelve requested you.”

“You take it,” I groaned while passing a drink order to Sarah. “I’m not in the mood to deal with my brother again.”

“It’s not your brother.”

I spun around, paranoid that Mateo had shown up. However, the strained smile that met me made me wish he had. Cursing under my breath, I pulled my order pad from my apron and slowly made my way to the back of the cantina. Last booth, of course, so no one could see her slumming it.

She watched me approach, tucking her chin-length blonde hair behind her ear. She’d bleached it for years—I assumed to give the illusion of a youth that had passed her by a decade ago. Not that the Botox wasn’t taking care of that on its own.

“Dining alone, Mother? It’s Sunday night. Shouldn’t you be at church kissing babies and praying with the other sinners?” Glancing up through my lashes, I watched her lip twitch in the middle of her smile. It took a lot to get to Mayor Donovan, and it felt good to cause a chink in her Vera Wang armor.

“For your information, I attended the eleven o’clock service. Besides, darling, you know I never dine alone.”

Confused, I looked around when I caught the unforgettable scent of nutmeg and cedar—the earthy scent that still haunted me.

“Hello, Leighton.”

His voice crawled along the base of my spine and slithered its way up my neck. Pins and needles shot through my hands as I gripped the order pad as if it were my only link to reality. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.