I wish I were kidding.
“Hey, Sarah?” I lifted onto my tiptoes and yelled down to her, hoping I got her name right. “Do you mind if I pour a beer for a customer?”
She shrugged, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders as she motioned to the page she’d dog-eared. “Knock yourself out. I’m only up to the D’s. Who the hell would drink something called a Dirty Martini?”
Ugh. Where did Emilio find these morons?
Choosing to keep my comments to myself, I stared at the back of Brody’s head as I tipped the mug and poured the beer from the tap.
As much as this felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, I wasn’t. This was real, and I was on my own. There was no hero at the end to save me.
So, I was saving myself.
Chapter Six
Mateo
“Nice of you to finally show up.”
Brody sat at a small table facing the front door wearing a scowl when I walked into Caliente. Unzipping my black leather jacket, I slung it over the back of the opposite chair, choosing to ignore his blatant insubordination. I didn’t have any sisters, but if I did, I suppose having one at the center of a cartel sit-down would make me antsy too.
“I stopped in Brownsville and had a tea party with the Border Patrol.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t realize it was open mic night.”
“Watch it,” I warned, taking my seat. “I’m here to help, but I can just as easily go back home.”
His face fell, his hands raising in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You want a beer?”
“One would be a good start.”
“Perfect, I’ve already ordered you one.” Brody nodded to a black backpack sitting by his feet. “I brought some things for you to check out.”
Sitting back, I watched him trace the condensation on the outside of his glass, my silence making him fidget. “A little anxious, huh?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“You’re not the one who spent the morning standing over a rotting corpse. I think I win this round.”
His pinched expression quickly faded, his eyes widening with interest. “What did you find out?”
“That San Marcos is just as much of a shithole as I remember.”
“I’m serious.”
So was I. The neighborhood I found myself in after a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride was more of an eyesore than the city forced to claim it.
“It looked untouched. Delgado had to have been dead for at least seven hours. The place should’ve been crawling with cops, but that’s not what bothered me the most.”
He leaned in. “I’m listening.”
“I tried the doorknob before causing a scene by kicking the whole damn thing in. It was locked.”
“So?”
I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Brody, but when it came to his sister, his reactions weren’t the most rational. Also, I doubted he’d like what I had to say.
“Maybe your sister isn’t as innocent as you think she is.” As expected, Brody’s eyes darkened. “What girl struggles with her abusive boyfriend, accidentally shoots him, then has the mental awareness to remember to lock the front door?”
“My sister is innocent.” Every muscle in his neck tightened.
“So you keep saying. Who are you trying to convince here?” He just glared at me, so I gave up on pushing the issue for now. Leaning back, I changed the subject. “You do know how lucky you are, right?”
“How so?”
“Brody, come on,” I said, gesturing toward him. “If this were anyone else, you and your sister would be dust by now.”
“Val doesn’t hurt women.”
“No, Val doesn’t hurt women unnecessarily,” I corrected, stressing the last word. “Your sister murdered one of our men. Remember the code you willingly took?”
He paled. “I remember.”
“Exactly, and although Delgado was a lowlife shit, he was still one of our own. It wasn’t your or your sister’s choice to take him out. Only Val can make a call like that.”
We’d had this conversation on the phone, but it beared repeating.
“He would if he knew what else was at stake.”
I waited for him to explain and when he didn’t, I lost my patience. “If you have something to say, just fucking say it, Brody.”
He slammed his fist on the table, causing silverware to rattle and a few curious eyes to turn our way. “I can’t tell you. I gave my word to Leighton no one would find out.”
“And I gave my word to Val that I would.”
He opened his mouth to speak then closed it as a woman rushed by carrying a tray on her shoulder. I barely noticed her, inhaling slowly, ready to push him until he broke when my mind went blank.
Fresh cut wildflowers.
Senses were a funny thing. Just one scent of fresh cut wildflowers and I was lying on a damp embankment staring up at the night sky again.
“How come you know so much about stars?”
“I like reading about them. They’re just all this crazy stuff held together by gravity.”
“Kind of like you and me.”
“No, Matty, you are my gravity.”
Shaking my head, I tore myself out of the past. However, as agitated as I was, I still couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her familiar form caught my attention, captivating me into silence. She was dressed in cut-off denim shorts so tiny her ass peeked out from under the fringe and a black tank top that stretched over her petite frame.
Before I could stop myself, I’d leaned forward, straining for a closer look at the small but curvy woman buzzing around the cantina as if slinging chips and salsa were a matter of life or death. The swell of her ass cheeks fell out of her shorts even more as she set the tray on the bar and leaned over to hand in a drink order. The move earned her a glare from Emilio’s new bartender, who looked more frantic than friendly as she desperately flipped through a drink manual and measured shot pours.
I’d put money on the fact she’d never mixed a drink in her life.
Yep, Emilio’s fucking her.
Apparently the waitress agreed because she shook her head, grabbed the manual out of the bartender’s hands, turned the page, and handed it back. The scowl she got in return made me smile. I quickly cleared my throat, and ran a hand across my lips, pretending to smooth the hairs of my goatee, although not one was out of place.
“Something amusing?”
I shifted my gaze to see Brody staring at me, his arms crossed over his chest and a stupid smirk on his face. The fucker was sure as hell entertained for a man whose sister had popped her hit cherry on one of our sicarios.
“Looks like the picks from the employment pool came from the shallow end since Eden left,” I said, nodding toward the bartender and turning my attention back to the waitress.
She held a basket of chips and a mug of beer in her hands, her head bowed low so that her shoulder-length blonde hair dusted over her face. It brushed softly over her collarbone, glowing under the muted cantina lighting like silken wheat. All I could do was stare at her, willing her to lift her chin and turn around so I could pretend an insignificant waitress was her.