“You’re far from innocent…Cereza.”
I froze at the hateful snarl of Val’s private nickname for me. My eyes followed the voice to the far-right corner as a light flickered against a short, fat cigar. Thin lips wrapped around the end and sucked hard, puffing on smoke as the orange ember lit up his face.
Manuel Muñoz.
I’d never seen him in person, but Val had shown me pictures on the plane to Mexico City. He’d fought me on the issue, but I’d been adamant on knowing the face of the man who’d ordered my brother’s death. Yet, seeing his picture, and seeing his face in person evoked two entirely different responses.
Val and Manuel grew up in the same country and were around the same age, but that was where the similarities ended. Manuel Muñoz’s shaved head depicted scenes of war and bloodshed, with tattoos covering most his scalp. A dusting of facial hair hid what was probably once a handsome face, only now, it scowled with evil and hatred beyond anything anyone could imagine. But it was his eyes that turned my stomach. They were coal black and void of a soul or anything salvageable as a human being.
“You,” I breathed with contempt.
A cruel smile teased his lips as he rose to his feet and stood in front of me. Inhaling a long puff from his cigar, he blew the smoke in my face and licked his lips. “We finally meet, Eden Lachey.”
“Go to hell.”
“In due time; first thing’s first.” Holding the cigar in between clenched teeth, he curled his hand and attempted to reach underneath my dress.
Screaming, I jerked and twisted as best I could, revolted at the thought of his touch, but also realizing they never checked my thigh holster. I needed to keep my only chance for survival hidden from view. “Don’t touch me, asshole!”
“Calm down,” he laughed, releasing me and returning to his cigar. “I just wanted to feel the pussy that rendered Valentin Carrera’s balls useless.”
With my blood boiling, I forgot about my burning arms and swung my leg, landing a light kick straight to his dick. His face twisted in tortured pain, and he moved out of my trajectory, his body bent over and heaving. After moments of labored breathing, he straightened with a furious roar, and barreled toward me with a clenched fist. Holding my breath, I braced myself as bone cracked against bone, his knuckles driving into the side of my face with brutal force. Upon impact, my head snapped back as the chain swung above me. Spitting blood, I’d barely recovered, when he landed an even harder blow to my ribs, a sickening crack echoing in the silent room.
Coughing wetly, I held his stare. “You killed my brother, you son of a bitch.”
“Not personally.” He smiled, licking my blood off his fist. “That part, I regret.”
I tried to hold in my rage like Val had taught me and stared at him with a cold eye.
“Never show your hand, Cereza. Your next move is the only thing you have that your opponent doesn’t know.”
Returning my stare, Manuel paced around me like a wolf stalking its prey. “You’ve caused quite the international shit-storm, Eden Lachey.”
“Well, as they say, go big or go home.”
He laughed, baring his stained teeth. “I see why Carrera likes you. American women are—how do you say—lively.”
“Fuck you.”
“And then you say things like that and ruin a good conversation. Crudeness isn’t attractive in a mate, Eden.”
“Why don’t you let me down from here and fight me like a real man?” I taunted, hoping to get a rise out him. Without many options left for escape, I grasped at straws.
He laughed again, waving the cigar in the air. “I have no interest in fighting. I’d just put a bullet in your head and be done with you.”
“Then why am I still alive?”
“You’ve amused me.” Taking another puff, he pointed the lit end of the cigar at me and raised a thick, black eyebrow. “I also know Valentin has a soft spot for you. We all knew you’d be the one to lead us to him. I enjoy torturing Carrera, and I love a good show. But, then again, this isn’t my show.”
That caught my attention. “No?”
“No.”
“I didn’t take you for a yes man, Manny.” I managed a grin, despite my cracked and bleeding lips.
Returning my smile, his lips curved into a knowing smirk—as if he held a secret weapon about to be unleashed on the world. “Not a yes man…a partnership, puta.”
For the first time, Manuel’s eyes lit up with an emotion I could only describe as giddiness. I opened my mouth to ask him to explain when the door to the dank room opened, and a faint click of a light switch filled my ears moments before brightness flooded the four walls.
“Hello, Eden.”
The moment my eyes adjusted to the shock of the light, they settled on the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. Almost as tall as Manuel, but with legs that seemed to extend well beyond her waist, she glided into the room, a halo of thick, shiny black hair flowing down her back. Her skin stretched flawless across her face, framed by deep set, penetrating, brown eyes that captivated me from the onset of their glare.
Her familiarity unnerved me. “How do you know me?”
“Marisol, this is Valentin Carrera’s whore.” Manuel motioned dramatically from the woman, back to me, then gave me a wink. “Eden Lachey, meet the beauty and brains of this operation—Marisol Muñoz, my sister.”
After our little introduction, Manuel and Marisol literally left me hanging while they called a family meeting in the corner of the tiny room. Satisfied with their communication, Manuel nodded and pulled out his gun, shooting through the chain above me. I cried out in relief and pain when I hit the floor. Without a doubt, I knew I had a few broken ribs and most likely a cheek fracture. The way my chest rattled from the wet cough, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a collapsed lung.
If I ever made it to a hospital.
A heavy boot in my stomach had me flipping onto my back with stars in my eyes. “Get up.” Manuel’s hand jerked me roughly off the floor and onto my feet. “We’ve got a party waiting for you downstairs,” he snarled, freeing my hands.
Val.
The logical part of me prayed I was wrong, and he was safe and out of their sadistic hands. Yet the weak and needy part of me ached to hold him again.
Turning over my shoulder, I threw a cold stare at Marisol Muñoz as her brother dragged me down the darkened hallway. “Why are you doing this?”
She looked at me as if I’d just asked her to explain quantum physics. “Money, darling. Valentin Carrera has it; I want it. You think I spent six years studying with my nose in a book at the University of Guadalajara to be stuck in an office somewhere?” A high-pitched laugh bounced off the walls. “Hell no. What this cartel has lacked since my father’s death has been intelligent direction. No offense, dear brother.”
Manuel shrugged and raised a quick eyebrow in her direction before snapping my arm toward a closed door.
“The Muñoz Cartel could never overtake Alejandro Carrera because the men in my family lacked strategic planning and intricate follow-through—something that required the long-term patience of a woman. You understand; right, Eden?”