However, there were so many cracks in the bathroom mirror, it was like trying to get dressed in a funhouse. I had no idea if my smoky eye makeup made me look like a sultry vixen or a rabid raccoon. Sighing, I tucked a stray piece of hair inside my wig and gave myself one last check.
“I’m not wearing this,” Brody called from the bedroom.
“Yes, you are.”
Our shopping excursion was an exercise in patience and restraint. Both of which were required not to kill him and dump his body on the side of the road. He argued with everything I said, refused to try clothes on, and sulked the rest of the way to Guadalajara.
“Stop being so dramatic. I’m sure you look good.” Giving my lips one last swipe of red lipstick, I swung the door open and froze. My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare.
Black boots replaced his pretentious designer dress shoes, and the tailored suit pants I had to pry out of his hands were gone. In their place were black jeans that hugged him in all the right places. Wall Street Ken left his starched white shirt, power tie, and jacket behind and got dirty with a fitted black button up, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was a mad genius or a witch with a death wish.
His eyes were still lowered as he held out his arms, the sleeves rolled up. “I look like I’m about to tie a woman to some train tracks.”
I wasn’t listening to a word he said. I was too busy following the sculptured muscles up his thick forearms until they disappeared under the dark fabric of his shirt. Before I could stop myself, I moved from the doorway and stood in front of him, my hands on his collar.
Brody’s head snapped up, his jaw going slack as he took in my dress. “Jesus.”
Folding down the upturned side of his collar, I smoothed it over the tight cords in his neck. The air between us crackled with unleashed tension, and the way he looked down at me had me struggling for words.
Clearing my throat, I lowered my hand and stepped back. “There. It’s fixed.”
“That dress is…” He swallowed and shook his head. “Damn.”
I felt my cheeks flush and lowered my gaze at the skintight red dress while trailing a hand over my stomach. “Do you like it? It’s your sister’s.”
He glanced down at the prominent bulge pushing against his zipper. “I’m going to defer to visual cues to answer your question and pretend like I didn’t hear that last part.”
I laughed. “Fair enough. Are you ready to do this?”
His response was quick and simple. “Not in the least.” Pushing his fingers into the small of my back, he maneuvered me toward the front door. Just as I was about to open it, he tightened his hold on my waist. “By the way, what’s with the wig?”
I was waiting for that.
Did I pick the color on purpose? Maybe. Maybe I wanted to see how he’d react. Maybe I wanted to prove a point. Maybe I wanted to give him a subtle reminder of what was at stake. Or maybe a part of me had an innate need to correct the imbalance of power he’d created.
Glancing over my shoulder, I ran a piece of the bright red bob-cut wig between my fingers. “Camouflage. I can’t risk being recognized. It only takes one Muñoz asshole to spread the word I’m looking for Ignacio, and this will be over before it even starts.”
“So, this ex, how close are you two?”
“Not very.” My answer seemed to appease him. He ushered me out the door, the deep line between his eyes relaxing, only to reappear when I added, “I mean, how close can you be after breaking off an engagement?”
El Palacio was on fire tonight.
Flashing strobe lights flickered around the darkened nightclub, painting everything in shades of magenta and purple as the rhythmic beat of reggaeton vibrated the walls. Brody stood behind me scowling as I paid our cover fee, and I would’ve slapped him if it wouldn’t have drawn even more attention to us. He already stuck out like bright yellow caution tape. Causing a scene wouldn’t help the situation.
“If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience, could you take that stick out of your ass?” I hissed, tucking a wad of pesos back into my purse. “People are staring.”
“We waited in line for over an hour.”
“Your point?”
His nostrils flared, shifting closer as more people filtered in. “I would’ve thought the owner’s fiancée would have expedited entry.”
I groaned. “Ex-fiancée, and are we still talking about this?”
“You tell me.” Clenching his fists, he crowded against me. “Up until an hour ago, I was under the impression we were going into this thing blind. As crazy as it sounds, I thought maybe we were on the same side, but you keep doing shit to prove my instincts were right about you.”
“And what instincts would that be?”
Crowd. Step. Crowd. Step.
To the casual onlooker, our habitual catch and release ballet seemed like a mating dance. In reality, it was a never-ending chase between stalker and prey. Only the roles weren’t defined and always reversed in the middle of the hunt.
“That you’re hiding something.” He tilted his head, and the scent of scotch and sage hit me so hard I stumbled. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his chest and further toward the edge.
I felt myself weakening. Every time my head put an iron wall between us, my body reminded me it wasn’t the only one in control.
With one hand digging into my hip, Brody wrapped the other around the back of my neck, stroking his thumb up the length of my throat until it came to rest under my chin. “Maybe you’re being set up, but there’s something else going on.” He tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at him. “You can spin all the bullshit lies you want, Adriana. I’m going to find out what it is, and when I do, you’d better hope it doesn’t involve Val or his family or—”
“Or, what?” I challenged. “You’ll kill me?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push me, Carrera. You won’t like what happens.”
“Don’t threaten me, Harcourt. You already know what happens.”
His face boiled with rage, and at that moment I had no idea if I wanted to watch him burn and dance in his ashes or stoke the fire and get licked by the flames. Twisting out of his hold, I glared at him before heading toward the bar, his mocking voice echoing in my ears.
“So, do you actually have a plan, or are you winging this whole thing?”
“Watch and learn, counselor.”
I assumed he followed behind me, but I didn’t particularly care. By the time I pushed my way through the throngs of people, my walls were firmly in place, and it was showtime. No fewer than four bartenders raced around filling drink orders, sweat pouring down their temples. Leaning over the bar, I put my assets on display while watching everyone’s movements. When I caught the one in the middle sneaking repeated glances at my chest as he wiped down the bar, I smiled.
Folding my arms over the chrome railing, I painted on a seductive smile and crooked a finger, beckoning him over. Ignoring the protests and raised hands, he made his way toward me.
“Busy night?” I purred in Spanish.
The bartender’s lips twisted. “Are you going to point out the obvious or order a drink?”