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He moved toward his clothes, yanking his shirt from the chair. “We all have baggage to deal with, Spaniard. Don’t we?”
“Some more than others.”
“I can tolerate some shit from my men, but not a rat.” He yanked on his shirt, cursing as he buttoned it.
“Which means you sent a message.”
He narrowed his eyes. “He has nothing to do with our deal, Spaniard. Why are you so interested?”
“I have my reasons.” I’d been right in my suspicions about the artist. Talon was a low-level player who worked the circuit, drug running for whoever paid the highest price. If the kid had absconded with the product, making a profit of his own, then why did Rodriguez consider him a rat? I wasn’t going to tip my hand I knew of Talon’s existence. What bothered me was if Rodriguez knew where Talon was hiding, why not kill him instead of sending a warning? Unless there was a bigger score. Something didn’t add up.
“I’m going to give you one piece of advice, Montenegro. Stay in your lane. I’m only doing business with you because of your father’s reputation.”
“And your need for a possible avenue into the States.”
He laughed. “You have your father’s instincts, which should serve you well.”
“I’ll give you another piece of advice as well. If you fuck with me in any way, I won’t hesitate to ensure that road is paved with landmines.”
He laughed and grabbed his trousers. “At least we’ve laid our cards on the table.”
Maybe he was right, but that didn’t mean I could trust him. The man was a lying sack of shit, but in this case, he wasn’t telling me a fabrication. There was someone else in town maybe fucking with both of us. However, I wasn’t prepared to make that suggestion.
If Talon was a mule and lying low, he’d chosen New Orleans as his hiding spot for very personal reasons.
It was time for me to find out who he was really running from.
And why he’d made contact with Eden, aka Carmella Rosario.
* * *
Eden
“You’re scaring the shit out of me,” Jasmine said as she threw me a look over her shoulder, gawking at the dress I was wearing.
I continued to look into the side mirror, even turning around to face the back window more than once. “I’m fine.” I was anything but fine. I’d managed to free myself, terrified he was playing another game and waiting downstairs for me so he could issue another round of discipline. A little additional cat and mouse, which he seemed to love.
But the house had been quiet.
After removing the horrible plug, I’d raced downstairs, praying my purse was still where I’d left it, shocked to see my phone inside. That’s when I’d called Jasmine, begging her to come get me. I was still trembling, horrified that I hadn’t remembered him sooner. The worst thought running through my mind was that I couldn’t be certain it would have changed anything. Even now, I hungered for him, craving what we’d shared. What was wrong with me?
“No, you’re not. Don’t tell me bullshit. Am I taking you back to your apartment?”
“No. Maybe. No, you can’t. Can I borrow some clothes?”
“Sure, but why can’t you go back to your place? And why were you hiding in trees when I found you? What the fuck is going on?”
Either Cruz had underestimated my abilities, or he’d thought I was so entranced with him that I wouldn’t dare defy his blessed rules. If he was trying to figure out if he could trust me, then he was an idiot, and I didn’t take him for one. He had no idea that among the things my father had taught me prior to his murder was how to pick a lock. Any lock. I mastered the skill a long time ago. Freeing myself had taken only a few minutes.
Or maybe he was testing me. It didn’t matter at this point. If he found me now, he’d return me to my uncle, and I wouldn’t see the outside of his estate until the date of my wedding to whomever Devon believed would bring him the most power and money. I couldn’t allow that to happen. What continued to confuse me was that my uncle and Cruz had been friends. Granted, I didn’t know my uncle’s friends, not then or now five years later, but I couldn’t take the chance they were buddy-buddy.
I thought about the day I’d demanded to know who’d killed my parents. I’d seen the odd look in his eyes, noticed the way he’d clenched his fist seconds before raking his arm across his desk, smashing his computer.
Then he’d pointed a finger in my face and told me… I was trying to remember. He’d said never to trust anyone who wanted to be my friend. Then he’d gone on about how his friend had wanted him ruined and that my parents had just happened to catch his wrath. He’d never explained. After that, he’d refused to talk about it. That had to be about Cruz.
Whatever had happened between them was very personal. He’d mentioned a name. Yes.
“Are you okay?” Jasmine asked, breaking me out of the memory. Whatever name Devon had mentioned was the key to why my family had been murdered.
