“You have no say in it for going outside of rank and sending Delgado to San Marcos in the first place,” Val growled. “Stay put and keep your mouth shut until Mateo gets there.”
After disconnecting the call, he slouched back onto the couch and stared at the vaulted ceiling. “Tread lightly with Emilio and try not to raise suspicion. Just tell him we’ve lost too many men, and you’re there to work with him to figure this out. Keep your cards close.”
“You don’t think one of our own is involved in this, do you?”
“I don’t think our men would be that stupid. However, I’m still alive because I assume everyone has a price.”
Standing, I gathered my keys as Val called for his private jet. “Not everyone.”
Chapter Three
Leighton
San Marcos, Texas
Brody said to leave in twenty minutes, but it was an hour later, and I’d scrubbed the bathroom sink in my apartment with bleach four times. It didn’t matter, a faint coppery stain still rimmed the drain from washing my bloody hands.
“Screw this.” Balling up the rag, I tossed it into the trash bag by my feet. It landed with a swish on top of my sweatshirt, Luis’s hoodie, and the gun. I didn’t want any of it near me, but Brody’s instructions had been clear.
Do not leave any incriminating evidence behind.
Tying off the trash bag, I kicked it into the hallway and checked my principles at my bedroom door. The time for right or wrong was over. Everything depended on my ability to act quickly and without emotion.
Fear did irrational things to rational people. I’d never broken the law in my life. Now I stood over my bed stuffing handfuls of clothing and electronics into an oversized duffel bag, preparing to run.
Stopping to grab the trash bag, I slung my purse and the duffel bag over my shoulder and
dove for the doorknob. I gave it a hard jerk and fought for air. Only two steps until the safety of darkness.
But it wasn’t darkness I ran into.
“Miss Harcourt. Going somewhere?”
At first, I didn’t see him. I just felt his hard chest and heard his winded grunt as I fell into him. I reached for the lapels of his jacket, bags tumbling off my shoulder and onto the floor when I smelled it.
Coffee and cigarettes.
It can’t be.
His large hands closed over my shoulders and steadied me in a firm grasp. “Careful there. You rush around like that, someone’s going to get hurt.”
It wasn’t until I jerked out of his hold that I saw it. Same wrinkled gray suit. Same windblown salt and peppered hair. Same deep dimple in the center of his chin.
“You,” I breathed.
“We meet again.”
But it wasn’t just “we.” Two men flanked him, each one taller and more muscular than the other.
I jerked out of his hold, the awkward twist of my feet kicking open the trash bag and displaying its damning contents. Four pairs of eyes cast downward, and everyone stared at the sin buried inside, but no one said a word.
Well, no one except for me—the one who should’ve remained silent. “Stalking is against the law, you know.”
“So is murder.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and shook his head. “Step inside, Miss Harcourt, or we can have this conversation in a place you won’t find as appealing.”
Time stood still. My apartment was small—the living room blending into the kitchen in one modest open area. There weren’t many places to run, and with three against one, the odds weren’t in my favor.
Out of patience, he pointed toward my kitchen table, waiting with his arms crossed over his chest while his two henchmen stayed by the door like a couple of guard dogs. He sighed again, which turned into a rattling cough.
“You should quit smoking,” I blurted out, dropping into the chair. “Those things will kill you.”
“Not as quickly as those things.” Sliding into the chair beside me, he tilted his head backward at the open trash bag, the butt of Luis’s handgun sticking out. “Miss Harcourt…”
The adrenaline that had rushed through my veins all night finally stalled, sending me careening into a wall of sadness and annoyance. “It’s Leighton,” I snapped. “Let’s drop the formalities, shall we? If I’m about to die, I’d rather do it on a first name basis.”
“Okay, Leighton,” he said, leaning back in his chair. The fact he didn’t dispel my fear of dying didn’t escape me.
“Don’t I get to know your name too?”
He held my stare. “Alex Atwood.”
I continued with my false bravado, motioning to where his men still hovered against my door. “Well, I’d offer for you to come in, but it seems you’ve already—”
“Drug enforcement officer.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a leather wallet and dropped it open, flashing official looking credentials.
I gasped. Screw the bravado. “DEA? You’re…you’re a government agent?”
Brody’s voice echoed in my head.
Admit nothing. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
As he studied my face, I wondered what secret he hoped to find hidden there. I’d never been a particularly good liar. I tended to wear my emotions like a second skin.
Finally, he rested his forearms on the table and whispered, “I know everything about you and everything you’ve done.”
He can’t. He couldn’t.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Look, Leighton,” he said, watching me closely. “I’m going to do you a favor and spell this out for you. We’ve been watching since you, shall we say, began fraternizing with a known cartel member.”
“Luis was a student.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Leighton, Leighton, Leighton,” he groaned, drawing my name out like I was a child. “Delgado was never a student. The Carrera Cartel sent him here to keep you in line after the Muñoz Cartel stalked you.”
My world tilted and spun. I’d convinced myself I’d just been robbed, nothing more. I’d be damned if Alex Atwood would storm in and destroy my perfect lie.
“A cartel? No, I had a few break-ins, that’s all. As you can see, I don’t live in the best part of town.”
“You didn’t believe that any more than your brother did.”
My nails dug into already scratched wood. “My family is none of your business.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he corrected. “Everything you do is my business since you just committed a homicide.”
“No,” I whispered. “It was self-defense.”
Alex smirked. “It could be. Or it could be premeditated murder. That’s all up to you. Wake up, Leighton. You’re just a pawn in their game. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. Now, because of you, the best shot I had of getting anything on the Carreras is in stage two rigor mortis.”
I shot him a disgusted look, and he sighed.
“I need you to tell me everything that happened tonight. Did you hear anything? Was there a conversation?”