Page 7 of Faded Gray Lines

“You promised if I helped you find her you’d look after my sister.”

“That deal was made in the event that you didn’t make it out of that stash house.” Pausing for a drink, he raised the glass toward the phone. “Clearly, you’re very much alive.”

“Val, this is serious! Leighton is on her way to Houston, and she’s in trouble.”

Val drained the glass and slammed it on the table. “What the fuck have you done, Harcourt?”

Brody was a top lieutenant, trying cases as an assistant district attorney by day with cartel blood staining his hands by night. Bound by oath and code, he passed killers through the system because they were marked with Carrera ink.

“Technically, nothing.”

“What the fuck does ‘technically’ mean?” As Val paced, a vein in his forehead pulsed with rage. I had to take control, or we’d soon have a vacancy in the Houston hierarchy.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked calmly.

“Her boyfriend tried to kill her.”

“So, what, technically, you killed him and turned him into bait?”

“No, she did.”

Val’s eyebrows drew up to his hairline. “What was that?”

“The fucker pulled a gun on her. I guess he didn’t expect her to fight back. They struggled, and it went off. Leighton panicked and called me.”

Silence engulfed the room as Val pressed his palms together. “I see. Well, what we have here isn’t a Carrera problem. This isn’t even a Houston problem. This, my friend, is a Harcourt problem, and you need to take care of it.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Brody insisted. “The guy she killed was one of ours.”

Shit. Job opening in Houston. Apply within.

“Hijo de su puta madre!” Son of a bitch.

“Val...” I tried to intervene as a storm brewed on his face.

Val’s nostrils flared. “Why was your sister fucking a Carrerasicario?”

“Whoa,” I interjected. “Brody isfamilia.”

For now.

“Your point?”

“That means his sister isfamilia. Whatever she’s done, remember your own code.”

Val’s face paled. It was a low blow, but his control issues were brewing a war I had no intention of fighting.

Val’s strict code against any member harming a woman was a hard pill to swallow for a cartel used to fifty years of indiscriminate brutality. Unfortunately, blood was blood in the eyes of the loyal followers of his father. It didn’t matter the gender of the vein from which it dripped.

“Fine,” he grumbled. Humility wasn’t an emotion he handled graciously. “How did Leslie get mixed up with one of our men?”

Brody spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. “Her. Name. Is. Leighton.” He let out a long sigh. “Muñoz tried to force me to turn against you by harassing her. After he died, I was still worried, so once I became a Carrera, I sent a soldier to San Marcos to watch over her.”

Val snorted. “Taking our oath doesn’t give you free rein, Harcourt.”

“We need a name, Brody,” I asked, trying to maintain control of the conversation.

“Luis Delgado.”