Brody’s nostrils flared. “You know what the hell I mean.”
Of course, I knew what he meant, but I also knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Cristiano had them delivered early this morning.”
As predicted, Brody’s sharp jawline twitched, his hand squeezing the gun as if he couldn’t decide whether to shoot me or throw it out the window. “Any particular reason?”
“Probably because I called him and asked him to have them delivered early this morning.”
He stared at me, and I stared right back. The standoff lasted until he let out a harsh breath, slamming the gun back onto the table. “It’s too goddamn early for this.”
“Coffee?” I smiled, pushing my half-empty mug of coffee in his face.
His eyebrows pinched together, and for a moment, I thought he was going to take it, but then he turned around and sank onto the couch, his hand dragging through his hair. “Okay, let’s start over. Why did you call Vergara and request…” Pausing, he shifted his gaze toward the coffee table while counting, “…eight guns?” Cocking an eyebrow, he shook his head and sat down, draping an arm across the back of the couch.
This was going to get a little ugly.
“Oh, I’m glad you asked. Because I thought I’d pay a visit to my childhood home today.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Okay, maybe a lot ugly
“Cristiano gave me some solid leads last night when I was in his office. He said my family had secrets that would give us answers.” As soon as Brody’s mouth opened, I held up a hand. “I would’ve told you last night, but if you remember, we got a little sidetracked.”
I remained quiet. Not because I had nothing else to say, but because leaving the ball in Brody’s court was a strategic move. It was time for him to put up or shut up. Either he proved he was all in, and I could believe him when he said he didn’t want to break me, or he proved me right when I said if given a chance, he’d drive a knife in my back.
Which was exactly what I thought he was about to do when he pushed off the couch. “No fucking way,” he growled, pressing into me.
His fiery stare sent a chill across my skin, reminding me how little clothing I wore. Not to mention what I wore. All I could find after storming into the house last night was one of Cristiano’s old T-shirts, which was another argument I didn’t wish to have with him.
I had to stand my ground or get bulldozed.
“I don’t remember asking for your permission.”
“Adriana, you can’t go to Esteban’s estate.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’ll be shot on sight!” he yelled, throwing his arms out wide.
“A possibility, I’ll give you that.”
His eyes bore into me as if trying to pick apart the warped patchwork of my brain. “You’re really insane, aren’t you?”
“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.” Winking, I gave him a patronizing pat on the chest before walking toward the kitchen.
“I can’t believe this,” he fumed, tearing across the room. “You’re risking your life on a few cryptic words from Vergara?”
Dumping the coffee down the drain, I whirled around. “Do you have a better idea? You have to check in with Val tomorrow. What do you plan to tell him? That we have a few irons in the fire?” Rolling my eyes, I curled my fingers into air quotes. “We’ve been at this for three days now, and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’ve got nothing.”
“Val wouldn’t want you to risk your life for him.”
I blinked. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about him.” His eyebrows drew up, and I palmed my forehead. “Okay, maybe it started out as a way to clear my name while working my way into the Carreras, but don’t you see what has happened? I’ve tried so hard to outrun Marisol Muñoz that I couldn’t see that she was the problem.”
“How so?”
“Cristiano told me to stop chasing ghosts and start opening up closets. He said they were full of skeletons that have been locked up for a long time.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I asked the same thing, and he just said this wasn’t about an outsider coming in to take over. That it was a vendetta, and if I wanted to find the truth I needed to look toward my own family. This whole time we’ve been looking for this enigma who’d come in and taken over what was left of the Muñoz Cartel. We’ve been racking our brains to figure out who it could be. Is it a former lieutenant? Disgruntled sicario? An outsider who saw an opportunity?” I pushed away from the sink and moved toward him until we stood only inches apart. “What we failed to do was see what was right in front of our faces. How could someone command control of a cartel unless they had the name to back it up?”
Brody looked me up and down, his eyes clouded with doubt. “But that makes no sense. Esteban and Manuel are gone. People can’t come back from the dead, Adriana.”
Maybe I baited that out of him. It was possible I dug that hole just waiting for him to fall into it. Unresolved issues didn’t go away just because bigger ones pushed them under the rug. Eventually, they crawled out and showed themselves.
A slow smile tipped the corners of my lips. “Are you sure about that? I did.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat, and he chewed on his words before responding. “Are you insinuating one of them is alive?”
And they’re back under the rug.
I sighed, fatigue catching up with me. “No, I’m insinuating that just because something isn’t visible doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“Stop chasing ghosts,” he grumbled, stalking toward the coffee pot, his eyes wild. Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet, he slammed it shut and poured.
“It’s cold.”
“Don’t care.” Brushing past me, he stomped up the stairs without another word.
I didn’t go after him. He was furious, and I got that, but I also didn’t have the time for bruised male egos. I’d give him until ten o’clock tonight, and then I was going with or without him.
Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico
I folded my arms across the top of the hood and grinned. “Ready to open up some closets, counselor?”
Brody climbed out after me, the look on his face not as pleasant. He was lucky I let him come with me at all after he made me waste two hours driving to Guadalajara and back just so he could get his own clothes. I suspected it had to do with me suggesting he wear one of Cristiano’s T-shirts since I’d turned his into a sleeveless crop top.
Crossing his arms, he moved toward the front of the car. “No, but I’m not letting this asshole take a shot at Val.”
My grin faded. “Right.”
“Or you,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “You said being together was worth dying for. Maybe so, but it won’t be today.” I met his stare, expecting to see his eyes swimming in lies, but I found stormy defiance. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. As if expecting my silence, Brody nodded at the backpack slung over my shoulder. “Are you ready to face Marisol again?”