Mateo’s lips parted, and as he leaned in, I closed my eyes, the bruising pressure of his hand on my thigh creating a tornado of pleasure and pain. It was wrong, but I wanted it. My body was a selfish seductress who chained my convictions somewhere in the recesses of my mind and took control.
But the kiss never came. Instead, a harsh crunch rang in my ear followed by a sticky drip on my bare shoulder. Opening my eyes, I watched Mateo pull away from my raised hand, chewing a chunk of my apple, a satisfied grin on his face.
“Breakfast,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick juice from his bottom lip. “I want breakfast.”
I didn’t know whether to pass out or smack him.
Prying my fingers off the fruit, Mateo tossed it in the air and caught it with ease. With a condescending wink, he took another bite and pointed to my phone. “Call your mother back and tell her you’ve changed your mind and you’re going.”
“Why the hell would I do that? My mother and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
“Still, she’s high profile, which makes you high profile. I assume since she’s in a race for the governor’s mansion, word has spread that her estranged daughter has returned home, yes?”
I nodded, my head feeling way too heavy all of a sudden.
He cocked his chin to the side. “Do you not see how this affects you? Leighton, I don’t give a shit about your mother, but don’t give anyone a reason to question you. If you don’t show up at the party, people are going to wonder why, which is going to lead to more investigating—”
“Which is going to lead to finding out about my relationship with Luis and that he’s missing.”
Mateo’s expression didn’t change. “You have to keep up appearances, whether you like it or not. What affects you affects me, and what affects me affects your brother. Keep that in mind, and don’t let personal vendettas cloud your judgment, or you’ll look guilty.”
“To who?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. “Your cartel? From what I’ve seen, they don’t care about guilt—only power and money.”
I expected him to fight me, but he calmly walked toward the window and pulled back the blinds. “Friends of yours?”
I jumped off the bed and scrambled to the window. A dark sedan was parked across the street, eerily reminiscent of the same one that sat across from the cantina and the same one used to follow me all the way back to Houston. The windows were tinted just enough that I couldn’t see inside, but it didn’t matter. I knew who it was.
“Oh, God.” I covered my mouth.
“Open your eyes, Leighton,” he growled. “If you don’t think they’ve watched you, me, and your brother since you left Houston, you’re more naïve than I thought.”
I should’ve been scared, but I’d quickly learned fear was a form of madness and both were valuable if used properly.
“I’m not naïve,” I seethed between clenched teeth. “I left that girl behind a long time ago.”
“Prove it,” he challenged. “It’ll be raining politicians there. Someone has to have a contact we can use.” His smoldering eyes scanned my body one last time before he turned toward the bathroom. Pausing at the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. “Just bat those innocent doe eyes. They worked on me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Leighton
It was ten thirty-six in the morning.
Five minutes had passed since I’d finally been summoned.
Two since I confessed to breaking into Emilio’s office, hacking into his computer, and reporting what I’d found.
Zero since getting a response.
Meeting Alex hadn’t seemed so risky before, but the longer I sat inside the shitty sedan watching patrons file in and out of Caliente, a rock settled deep in the pit of my stomach. It was almost time for the lunch rush, and Amanda would blow up my phone soon. I couldn’t risk Emilio noticing I’d disappeared. As a precaution, I’d snuck out the backdoor and walked an entire block out of the way to avoid being seen.
They had to park across the fucking street.
“So he has a file on your father,” Alex finally said, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” Shaking his head, he pressed a button on his door and cracked his window barely an inch.
I wrinkled my nose at the smell. “What do you mean? My father is dead. He was murdered by the cartel you expect me to betray. How are you not seeing the connection?”
After taking a long drag off the end of his cigarette, he pulled it out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “You said you emailed it to yourself because there were other files on there.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what were they? What damning evidence do you have, Agent Harcourt? What secret code did you crack to bring down the beast?”
I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them. This was the part I dreaded telling him. “It never sent.”
His hand paused midway to his mouth. “Beg your pardon?”
I took a breath to calm my racing heart. “I said, it didn’t send. When I logged into my account this morning the email wasn’t there.”
Alex shoved the cigarette in between his lips and grinned. “Imagine that.”
It took everything I had not to rip the damn thing out of his mouth and ram it in his eye.
“There’s something in those files,” I insisted. “Why the hell would Emilio Reyes have personal information on my father? Don’t you find that a bit odd?”
“Frankly, Miss Harcourt, I find everything about your family a bit odd.” Annoyed, he turned to face me. “Did you ever stop to think maybe Reyes has a file on each one of you? I assume he’d be a shitty lieutenant if he didn’t know everything about Brody’s family.”
“You don’t think he knows about—”
Alex was quick to dismiss me. “No. I told you, they’re in a secure location. Hell, you don’t even know where they are.”
I nodded, thankful, even though it felt like a rabid animal had devoured my heart. “Why haven’t you ever brought me to an office?” I asked, dread blooming in my stomach. “Even after what happened in San Marcos, you never took any official reports. I thought a DEA agent had to do stuff like that by law.” I realized it was the first time I’d ever asked such a simple question.
Alex rolled his eyes as if he was insulted. “I like being in the open air. Corporate shit isn’t my style. Why? Do you want me to write up an official report? I will, if you insist, Leighton. Of course, I don’t think you’d like how you’d look on paper.”
“You were the one sitting outside Eden Lachey’s old townhouse. Weren’t you?”
“Me? No, stakeouts aren’t my thing anymore. I leave that to Swenson. But, yeah, I know you’re shacking up with Mateo Cortes.”
“I’m not—”
He held up his hand. “It wasn’t in the original agreement, but obviously, this isn’t a ‘by the book’ kind of case. I’ll look the other way so you can do whatever it is you have to do.”