One hour. Two hours. Who cared? Timing meant nothing. Not letting her get her way meant everything.
“So bossy,” she chided, swaying her hips as she made her way toward the door. I almost let out a breath when she glanced back over her shoulder. “Oh, and Brody?
Turning my head, I glared at her between two fingers.
“Don’t ever fuck me over again. Sometimes I forgive, but I never forget.”
Chapter Ten
Adriana
After throwing what little I owned into the tattered bag I carted across the border, I walked in the door of Caliente exactly fifty-nine minutes after walking out of it. Brody demanded I wait two hours, but I’d lived long enough to know anything could be a trap. Sometimes the element of surprise was the sole difference between survival and ambush.
Setting my bag on a nearby table, I surveyed the scene. It was too quiet. Granted, it was still only eleven o’clock in the morning. The lunch crowd probably wouldn’t swarm in for another half hour, but I didn’t like the unnatural silence.
“You’re early.”
I yelped and spun around with my hand shoved in my bag, in position to knee somebody in the balls then blow them off. Luckily, I recognized that steel cut jaw from earlier and punched him in the shoulder instead.
It was like punching a brick wall.
“Jesus!” I hissed, glaring at Brody’s lapdog as I shook my injured hand by my side. “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to sneak up on someone who could blow your dick off?” I glanced down to find my knuckles red as hellfire. “Dios mío, do you have concrete under that T-shirt?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Brody told you not to be here for another hour.”
“Aw, that’s cute. Do you wipe his ass for him too?”
“Look, lady, I don’t know who you think you are, but when Brody Harcourt gives an order around here, you listen.”
He was like an obedient little Rottweiler.
If Rottweilers were ten seconds away from stabbing you in the face.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, puppy. I had to check out of the motel by eleven, or I would’ve had to pay for an extra night. Let’s be real here. If he had to choose between having me show up a little early or having $65.60 charged on his credit card, I think we both know what he’d prefer.”
“I don’t know if…” His voice trailed off, and those dark eyes gave me a few slow blinks. “Wait, how do you have his credit card number?”
Because I stole his wallet last night.
“Is that really important? I think we have bigger issues to worry about, such as the fact that it’s way too quiet in here.” Tucking my hand back inside my purse, I turned my attention back toward the open cantina.
“You’d prefer a bar brawl?”
“I don’t like quiet.” I narrowed my eyes and glared at him over my shoulder. “If you were any good at your job, you wouldn’t either.”
Technically, I was right. A second in command should be patrolling the area with an eagle eye, watching for anything out of the ordinary. An unfamiliar face. An anxious stare. Eyes fixated on a watch. Especially with my former men edging dangerously close to Carrera territory.
“That’s Frankie.” He moved beside me and nodded at an older man sitting at the bar, shoveling chips and salsa in his mouth so fast I half expected him to choke. “He’s been a regular for years. Comes here every day for lunch, then drags his ass back in at night to drink himself into oblivion.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Maybe his job sucks. Maybe he’s in debt up to his eyeballs. Maybe he found out his wife’s fucking his best friend. Who knows? It’s not my business to ask.”
Before I could argue that everything happening on Carrera property was his business, he continued assaulting me with everyone’s life story.
His gaze shifted across the bar to a lone booth. “That’s Antonella Reyes. Her husband died about six months ago.”
“Emilio Reyes’s widow?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Puppy nodded, and I made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl. Emilio Reyes was once one of Valentin Carrera’s most trusted men. Not only did he own Caliente, but he also ran all stateside operations before becoming one of the worst traitors the cartel had ever seen.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I fumed, staring crater-sized holes in the woman. “Why would you let her in the door, much less serve her?”
He bumped my shoulder. “Put your claws away. She wants no part of the family. She proved that by selling this place to Brody for a dollar.”
“So, why would she come back here? Is she masochistic?”
I didn’t like the pity in his eyes as he tilted his chin and studied me. “Emilio chose the wrong path, but that doesn’t erase the twenty years she spent loving the man who didn’t.”
And just because Esteban murdered my family, it doesn’t erase the twenty-four years I spent loving the man who spared me.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. You know all about me.
Good for you.
“Hey, you okay?”
I vaguely heard his voice echoing over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. When I didn’t respond, he called my name louder and louder until the fog finally dissipated.
“Adriana?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” Shaking my head, I cleared my throat and pulled myself together. “I’m fine. Long trip and too little sleep. You know how it goes.”
I diverted my attention back to the bar area then felt a strong hand on my shoulder. “Look, I know it’s none of my business—”
“You’re right. It is none of your business.” Picking up two of his fingers, I slid his hand off my shoulder. “Well, this has been fun, but I think I’ll go freshen up. Point me toward the ladies’ room?”
He offered a lackluster motion left of the bar. “Down the hallway to the right.”
Stepping behind him, I dragged my suitcase off the table and gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, puppy.”
“It’s Rafael.”
“Huh?”
“You keep calling me puppy. My name is Rafael.”
“Oh, I know who you are, papi.” Smiling, I tossed him a wink before making my way down the hallway.
For once, luck seemed to be on my side.
I stood in the bathroom with my head poked outside the door, listening for the slightest sign that Rafael Suárez had changed his mind and decided to get rid of his boss’s burgeoning problem before it could wreak any more havoc.
The problem, of course, being me, and the havoc being the fact we both knew I had as much intention of freshening up as he did.
But as the minutes ticked by, other than the expected clatter of pans and dishes from the kitchen, the hallway remained silent. Either Brody’s enforcer didn’t believe I had a gun in my bag, or he had this insane notion I wouldn’t open fire in the middle of the bar.
He was wrong on both counts.
The muscles in my neck twitched, my shoulder aching under the weight of my overstuffed bag. So even though it had only been a little over five minutes, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway.