The stunned look on his face might have made me feel a bit sorry for him if I didn’t already know he’d bled the hardware store dry. His selfishness caused Nash to leave his job in San Antonio and Eden to work two jobs just to keep it alive.
He frowned and continued staring at the box. As I was about to hit him with another ultimatum, he set it on the kitchen table and took a step back. “I’m sorry, Brody. I can’t.”
“Excuse me?” My gaze snapped from the box back to his face.
“I can’t,” he repeated, his chin trembling. “I’ve lost everything. The only thing I have left is my life. If I do what you’re asking, they’ll kill me.”
“They’ll kill you anyway.” He had to know that. Drug cartels never let debts walk. Even I knew Elliot Lachey had gotten himself in over his head with the Carreras. My hands fisted by my side. His cooperation wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t leave here without the answer I came to get.
My attempt at intimidation fell short. Lachey’s upper lip twisted in a wistful snarl as he laughed without humor. “You stand there with your suit and tie and pretty boy blond hair and lecture me on what the fucking Mexicans will do to me?” He threw his head back and held his stomach with a loud roar. “Worry about yourself, son. You’re more in bed with them than I am. If you’re at my house, freaking out with sweat rolling down your forehead like that, they must have something on you too.”
I schooled my emotions. He knew his words hit home, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it on my face. “So, you’ve made your decision then?”
A low snort fell from his closed mouth, and his eyelids half closed as he looked away. “You tell the district attorney’s office to kiss my ass. I’ve never seen these pictures you say you have, so I’m not even sure they exist. If they want the goods on Carrera, they can get it themselves. I’ll take my chances in jail.”
Fury filled my chest as fear hid close behind it. Everything inside me screamed to tell him what was coming for him tonight, but because ears were on me, I kept silent.
Tucking my morals behind a steel expression, I approached him and whispered low in his ear. “You just made a fatal mistake.” Saying nothing more, I turned to leave the room.
My casual tone broke his confident attitude as he grabbed my arm. “Stay away from my daughter, Harcourt.”
Shaking him off, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. “Screw you.”
With Elliot Lachey’s fate sealed, I slammed the door.
I’d barely pulled my gray BMW into my designated parking space at the courthouse when my phone rang. I didn’t have to glance down at it to know who was calling. Timing was everything, and I’d been expecting a shrill ring to break through the silence the whole ride back.
Forcing myself to answer, I leaned back in the seat and hit the green button on my phone. “Harcourt.”
“Didn’t go well, I hear.”
With the heavy accent and dangerous lilt in his voice, the man on the other end was unmistakable. Wrapping my fingers around my chin, I squeezed in frustration. “You have me bugged. I tried, but I can’t force the man. If he wants to die in jail, so be it.”
“You know what’s at stake, yes?”
“I can’t forget.” The picture he’d sent of his men inside of her bedroom had given me more sleepless nights than I could count. My stomach churned as I recalled the video of them going through her panty drawer and holding them up to their dirty faces. Taking long inhales, they’d licked the lace and smiled into the camera.
“The deal was, you get us a mole into Carrera’s camp, and we leave that sweet pussy alone. You’ve failed.”
Panic gripped me as light swam before my eyes. “Don’t fucking touch her!”
The low growl of a laugh fueled my hatred. “She looks good enough to eat, Harcourt.” He made a throaty moan that had my fingers gripping the steering wheel.
“I’ll kill you.”
“No, you won’t,” he sneered, breathing heavily over the line.
“Give me more time.” I focused on the people walking in front of the parking lot, returning from their lunch breaks, laughing carefree as if my world wasn’t crashing down around me. “I can change his mind.”
“No need. It’s time for plan B.”
“There’s a plan B?”
He laughed again, and the sound grated on my last frayed nerve. “Thanks to your call with Carrera, Mr. Lachey will change his mind about helping you after tonight.”
“What are you going to do?” I demanded to know. The man was crazy. He made Valentin Carrera look like the Pope.
“Don’t worry,” he warned, his voice low. “Carrera has it all set up. We just have to stick our hands in and shake it around a little.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Your junkie is getting a lesson he’ll never forget. When it’s done, I’ll call. You make sure the police arrest Carrera and make the evidence stick. My men on the inside will do the rest.”
“Wait, arrested for what?”
“Premeditated murder.”
“Where does that leave—” A dial tone hit my ear before I could finish. Pulling the phone away, I stared at it, praying to a god that seemed to have left the city to keep her safe.
Because if I tried to, we’d both be dead.
Chapter Six
Eden
“Sweet cheeks, I’ve been dry for hours. How about shaking that ass over here and wetting me down?”
Wiping down the distressed wooden bar, my fingers tightened around the wet rag as I scrubbed harder at the hardened glob of salsa. “I heard you the first three times you said it, Frankie,” I said, releasing the sigh I’d been holding. “The answer is still no. You’re cut off.”
“Aw, c’mon baby,” he slurred as the empty glass tumbled from his hand. “You’re not my mother.”
I picked at what remained of the salsa with my fingernail. “No, I’m not.” Reaching behind me, I smacked his outstretched arm with the soggy rag. “I’m also not your wife, so unless you want me to make a really unpleasant call to her, keep your hands to yourself.”
Frankie raised his hands in surrender. Holding his palms up for inspection, he leaned on the shoulder of his drinking buddy, his eyes half-lidded. “I don’t know why, they’re the only ones in town that haven’t been up Cherry’s skirt.”
His words circled my ears and detonated into a hundred pieces of truth, but I willed the emotion back down to the place I kept it locked away. No man would bring me to tears again–in public or in private. Especially some drunk asshole who couldn’t find his limit if he tripped over it.
Squaring my shoulders, I dropped the rag across the sink divider and reached for my cell phone to call him a cab. I’d just rattled off the address to the cab company when Frankie’s hand swatted at my ass.
“Hey, I go when I want to go, sweet cheeks.” He laughed low under his breath. “Unless you want to ride me home.”
Ignoring them, I balanced the phone between my ear and shoulder, rolling my eyes as Frankie and his cohort snickered and high-fived each other. He wasn’t the first drunk asshole to try to manhandle me near closing time. He wouldn’t be the last.