As I tossed the phone onto the passenger’s seat, my gaze fell on the damn trench coat again. I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore, so I rolled down the window and just as I drew my arm back to chuck it out of the car, a piece of paper fell out of one of the pockets. Picking it up, I read the words printed on the front.
You Are Cordially Invited to a Fundraiser for Mayor Lilith Donovan.
Questions flew through my mind, none of which had any answers. Why the hell did the guy who hit on Leighton have an invitation to her mother’s campaign party? I hated questioning her, especially after last night, but I’d learned never to underestimate anyone for any reason. Especially when the heart was involved.
Picking up Leighton’s phone again, I scrolled through her call history. Besides Brody’s, there were two other number she’d called lately—one of them looked familiar, so I called it.
Before the first ring even completed, a man answered, his voice impatient. “What do you have for me?”
I hung up when it hit me why the number looked so familiar.
It was the same one I’d seen on Luis’s phone.
Chapter Twenty
Leighton
The truth shall set you free.
However, after the few glances I stole at Brody’s profile, I realized the truth could also cause my brother to have a stroke. From the moment he stormed through the door of the townhouse and dragged me into his gray BMW, I knew a confrontation would be unavoidable. He had me trapped, and the longer he drove in silence, I was positive the muscles in his neck would snap at any second.
I couldn’t hold onto my innocent persona any longer.
Brody squeezed the steering wheel as I rubbed my damp palms over my bare thighs, the thick tension in the car breaking as we spoke at the same time.
“What the fuck is going on with you and Cortes?”
“I’ve been lying to you.”
“What?” Brody shouted, his eyes widening in shock.
“Brody...” I started, unsure how to navigate the conversation from here.
“Leighton...” My name was a slow breath of barely contained anger. “You called me for help, and I’ve been trying to give it to you, but every time I turn around, you’re with him—a stranger. I’m not stupid, so either you tell me the truth, or I’m done.”
My heart squeezed. My big brother had always been the one person I could count on to be in my corner. I had to come clean no matter what my confession cost me.
“Mateo isn’t a stranger.” Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to say the words out loud. “I knew him when I was in high school.”
“How the hell did you manage to meet a... He’s a... Leighton, how?”
“I know what he is, Brody.” I sighed. “I mean, I didn’t back then. I took off from one of Mother’s campaign parties one night and ended up in a place no girl should’ve been alone. Mateo was there and saved me. We spent the next seven months together in secret.”
“So you knew who he was at Caliente?”
“Yes and no. When we were together, he told me his name was Matty. I had no idea his real name was Mateo until you said it.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Because of something that happened four years ago?”
“No, because he came here to help me and didn’t have the balls to tell me that—”
“I lied to him about my name too. He had no idea the whole time you worked together I was your sister.” I gently pulled his hand away from his face, so he could see the truth in mine. “Let’s just get all this out now.”
His face paled as my confession registered. “Does this mean you know about me?”
“Yes, I know.”
“For how long?”
“Since I got back.”
His apologetic stare hardened. “And you didn’t say anything?”
His tone dulled my remorse. “Exactly how is one supposed to confront one’s own brother about such a thing? ‘Hey big brother, thanks for giving me a place to crash after I murdered a guy. By the way, I know you’re a wanted man and work for a cartel.’ Sorry, it just didn’t come up.”
Brody sighed, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Does anyone else know?”
“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’t have to 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’re familia.”
“Fuck your familia,” 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.