Monday morning, I woke up miserable and with eyes like worn sandpaper. Splashing water on my face did nothing to change the situation, so I opted for a shower instead. The hot water pelted my back, loosening some of the knots caused by my mother and Finn’s visit.

Mateo never showed up, and by the end of my shift, I was coming apart at the seams. I desperately needed a piece of my life back, and there was only one thing that could always make everything right when it went wrong. Unfortunately, once again I got a pleasant voice mail telling me to leave a message at the tone.

My skin was on fire by the time I turned off the water. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a simple red top, I tiptoed into the living room. “Brody?”

Ignoring the silence, my nose led me toward the kitchen table where a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sat next to a glass of juice and a handwritten note. I grabbed the juice and the note and walked into the living room.

Lil’ Bit,

Put the juice down and eat the damn food I made you. I’m sorry I acted like an asshole yesterday, but you’re my baby sister. It’s my job to be an asshole.

~B

P.S. Talk to Mateo. Straighten this shit out before I do.

I groaned at his threat. Little did he know, I almost did.

I sighed, feeling strangely awkward. For the first time since arriving in Houston, I had the entire day off, and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

I’m going back to bed.

Placing Brody’s note on the coffee table, I hugged the juice to my chest and turned to head down the hall when someone knocked on the door.

“Brody’s not here,” I yelled.

“Good, then we won’t be interrupted.” His voice was smooth and laced with the accent that melted my insides.

I braced a hand against the wall. “Go away.”

“Open the door, Leighton.”

“No.”

Mateo slammed his fist against the door. “Fine. Have it your way.”

I watched in shock as the doorknob rattled a few times before the whole damn thing flew open. Sunlight glinted off the tip of a long blade just before he snapped it shut and shoved it in his back pocket.

“What do you want, Mateo? I was just going back to bed.”

He held my gaze, a lascivious smirk softening his scowl. “That works for me.”

As usual, his clothes were dark. His tight jeans and simple long sleeve shirt made my stomach clench while doing lethal things to my willpower.

“What is it with you?” I blurted out. “You think you can ignore me all day then just show up, and I’ll drop my panties for you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you.” Glaring at him, I slammed the juice onto the coffee table and stormed past him.

He caught my upper arm. “We need to talk.”

I was happy to oblige, but I highly doubted he’d like the subject matter.

“Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk.” Jerking out of his hold, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Where were you yesterday?”

“You know I can’t talk about that.

I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh, it’s a guessing game. I love those. Was it Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick?”

“No, Hector Diaz, in the kitchen with a crushed skull.”

All the fight drained out of me. “Hector is dead?”

Mateo cocked his head. “You sound shocked.”

My hands curled by my sides. “Why wouldn’t I be? I didn’t know anything about the man, much less that he was dead.”

He watched me for a few moments before taking a step toward me. “Someone’s cleaning up behind you, Leighton.” Another step, and his voice hardened. “Well except for Hector, I had to take care of that particular mess. I can’t help you if you aren’t straight with me.”

I bumped into the wall as I inched toward the hallway. “What do you think I’m hiding? I told you Luis said Hector’s name. If he’s dead, obviously, he must be connected to the man I saw threatening Luis.”

For every step I took, he took two until his hands caged me against the wall. “I don’t think Hector wanted to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued, ignoring the sweat trickling down my back. “You weren’t there.”

“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” He posed it as a question, but his tone was edged in accusation. “I know you think you can’t trust anyone, but holding things back could get people killed.”

I couldn’t trust anyone—not with this, but the fear he invoked dug a dull knife in my heart. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t cared enough to demand a single detail, and maybe I’d kept quiet to punish him as much as I had for their safety. But he was right—the game had changed. This wasn’t about me anymore.

“There is one thing,” I said, managing to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t say anything before because I’ll do anything to protect my family.”

“As will I,” he clipped, his arms tensing. “That’s why I’m here.”

Of course, the Carrera Cartel. It’ll always be about the cartel.

“Right...” I took a deep breath, my stomach choosing that particular moment to growl. Ignoring its protests, I continued. “I didn’t agree to cooperate with the DEA just for Brody and myself. They promised to—”

A shrill ring cut off the rest of my confession, and we both glanced down as Mateo pulled his phone from his pocket. I caught a quick flash of the text—a series of nonsensical letters and numbers.

“Damn it,” he swore, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “I have to go.” He stepped closer, and I held my breath, pinching my lips together as his hand cradled my cheek. “Meet me at the townhouse later.”

“Why?”

“Food, little lamb. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s that thing that keeps us alive.” He trailed his fingers down my neck, running the pad of his thumb across my collarbone before turning toward the door.

“Not a fan of pasta carbonara?” Mateo twirled his fork while eying my untouched food from across the dining room table.

I placed my fork in the middle of my plate. “It’s fine. Delicious, actually. I just...well, how did you learn how to cook Italian like this?” I hated the concerned lift in my voice.

Concerned, my ass. Petty was more like it.

Mateo’s lips quirked in his own private amusement. “That’s a little politically incorrect, don’t you think?”

“Well, I—”

“What, because I’m Latino, I can’t cook Italian food? You expected tacos maybe?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He leaned forward, studying my face with a satisfied smile. “You’re blushing. You’re really upset, aren’t you?”

His mocking tone horrified me. “No! I just meant that...forget it.”

Content with his discovery, he sat back in his chair and twirled another forkful of pasta. “To answer your question, one of my Houston neighbors was Italian. She used to bring me casseroles all the time, and eventually, I asked her to show me how to make them.”

“Oh, I see.”

“We spent hours together,” he continued, much to my horror. “Sofia was the best—so patient and kind. I miss her a lot.”

I’d heard enough. Shoving my chair back, I gathered my plate and turned toward the kitchen. “Well, she certainly taught you well.”

“Are you jealous, Leighton?” he asked, grabbing my wrist.

“Me? No. Why would I be jealous? She was special to you. I get it.”

“She was also eighty-four years old when she passed away.”

The plate fell out of my hands, crashing onto the floor and splashing cream sauce all over my white dress. “I’m sorry?”

“You’ve got to start trusting me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I’ve never had that type of connection with anyone. Not after you.”

I couldn’t let myself believe it. Once upon a time, my choices only affected me. Things were different now, and I couldn’t allow what should’ve been to dictate what was.

Manners required me to stay and clean up my mess. Manners could kiss my ass. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s getting late. I should be going.”

Instead of letting me go, he tightened his hold on my wrist. Mateo’s easygoing demeanor faded, the cartel boss in him taking over. “What were you saying earlier? Something about you not agreeing to cooperate with the DEA for just you and Brody.”

“It’s not important,” I said, shaking my head. “I was flustered.”

He narrowed his gaze, rounding the table until he stood beside me. “I don’t think so.”

“Really, it was nothing,” I repeated, the heat radiating off him causing sweat to bead across my chest. “I have to go.”

His eyes darkened. “But we haven’t even had dessert.”

“I couldn’t eat anything else.”

“That makes one of us.”

The hunger I saw building in his eyes exploded. Sweeping his free arm out, Mateo cleared the dishes off the table, sending them flying into the wall and onto the tile floor. As ceramic exploded everywhere, he lifted my legs off the floor and forced my back against the table, pushing my cotton dress up to my waist.

“What are you—”

“Doing? I’m having dessert.” Ignoring my protests, he grasped the sides of my panties and pulled. As they slid down my legs, he followed their path until his head settled between my thighs. “I’m still hungry, and you’re way too tense.”

I pushed against his shoulders, but his tongue was already probing between my swollen folds, counteracting my blocks with a sharp bite to my clit. I clutched fistfuls of his hair, his strong, rhythmic sucking drawing a tortured moan from my throat. I tried to resist him, but my body betrayed me, eagerly giving into his demands and arching against the heat of his mouth.

“That’s it, mi amor. Cry for me. I’m going to own you until you beg me to stop, then I’ll start all over again until you beg me to finish.”

My breath stalled, and my world spun. The weight of the last week evaporated from my mind, leaving only Mateo and his wicked mouth. I stopped fighting him and gave into the freedom, allowing him to take me over the edge.

My heart thumped heavily in my chest as his lips sucked with the voracity of a starved animal. “Oh, God, Matty, I’m coming!”

“Not without me.” Metal clanged against the glass table, and I lifted my head to see him rip his belt from its loop and shove his jeans down his thighs. He was painfully hard, the broad head of his cock curled against his stomach. “Never without me again, Star.”

Grasping my hips, he jerked me toward the end of the table and pushed inside with one hard stroke. I inhaled sharply at his invasion, preparing for the rough fucking I’d become accustomed to. Instead, he weaved a hand through my hair, tugging me toward his mouth as he pulled out and slowly eased back in.

“Promise me you’re not lying about anything.”

I groaned, throwing my head back. “I promise.”

He circled his hips, putting pressure on my clit before drawing back and driving back in.

“Promise me the man at the bar was just a stranger.”

“He was just trying to help.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Promise me Luis Delgado meant nothing to you.”

I rolled my head side to side, biting my lip between moans. “I couldn’t love him.”

“Promise me whatever happens, you understand I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Oh, God, yes!” My breathing shallowed, and my muscles gripped his cock as I shook on the crest of an orgasm.

“Look at me.” Opening my eyes, I met with two burning coals, dark as midnight and just as dangerous. “This ends now. After this, you won’t question me. After this, you’ll do exactly as I say. After this, you’re mine.” Thrusting with one final and brutal stroke, we both broke apart. I screamed, my body wrecked from the waves of aftershocks rippling through it, and Mateo groaned my name, throwing his head back as his body jerked in release.

Time passed in a blurry haze. I meant to leave. I meant to gather what was left of my dignity and drive back to Brody’s apartment. Instead, I found myself completely naked in Mateo’s bed, his strong arms wrapped around me as he held me close.

It should’ve felt wrong. I should’ve felt manipulated, but I didn’t. For the first time in days, the only thing I felt was safe.

Until I woke from another nightmare just as the sun broke over the horizon and rolled over to latch onto him. Pressing my nose in between his shoulder blades, I groggily opened my eyes and froze.

A skull with the bottom half of the jaw missing covered the right side of his back. Wilted black roses lined either side of the cheek and an hourglass settled at the base.

The same tattoo I saw on the man arguing with Luis.

The heavens opened as I walked toward the dark sedan, but I didn’t run. In fact, I may have even slowed my stride a little, the chilled March rain matting my hair against my cheek and drenching my clothes. I imagined Alex puffing on one of his cigarettes and glaring at me from behind the tinted glass, and I smiled, making sure to walk even slower.

A thick cloud of smoke billowed out of the car as I opened the door and slid in the passenger’s seat. “Let’s make this quick,” I said, staring straight ahead. “I have to be at work by ten.”

Alex wasn’t amused by my dismissive attitude. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t danced in the rain like a fucking moron, we would’ve been done already.”

I twisted around to face him, rage boiling inside me. “And maybe if you hadn’t forced me to be your own personal Donnie Brasco, I wouldn’t be here in the first damn place.”

Chuckling, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “You got balls, kid. I like that. Just don’t flash them around me again, or you won’t like what happens.”

“Oh? What are you going to do, threaten to send me to jail?” I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Sorry, I heard that one already.”

I waited for his response, but he just took a long drag off the cigarette. “What do you have for me? Don’t say nothing because I know for a fact you’ve been with Cortes again.”

“Ah, yes, Caliente. Did your guard dog offer up all the sordid details, or should I give you the recap myself?”

“From what Swenson told me, you were drunker than a sack of assholes. You’re lucky he was there, little girl,” he said, his large body crowding into me. “Eighty-proof lips spill secrets that get people killed.”

I stared daggers at him, fighting back a wave of emotion as Mateo’s warning from yesterday came rushing back.

“I know you think you can’t trust anyone, but holding things back could get people killed.”

Neither warning was veiled. I knew exactly who they referred to and thinking about it made me sick. I came to Houston to protect them. I couldn’t do anything to jeopardize their safety.

However, I also refused to show fear anymore.

“First of all, I’m not your little girl,” I hissed. “I have a name, and if you’re not going to use it, don’t expect me to use yours, Agent Atwood. Secondly, your guard dog almost got me busted. You’re both lucky I think quickly on my feet, sober or not.”

“Speaking of which, I want my coat back.”

“Your coat?”

“Yeah. Swenson pulled that gentlemanly shit with my jacket.”

“Well, I suppose you can pay Mateo a visit and ask him for it.” I smiled.

“You get it for me,” he growled. “Shouldn’t be that difficult considering you’ve become a permanent stitch in his sombrero.”

“How racist of you.”

“You’re quite defensive when it comes to Cortes. Whose side are you on, Leighton?

Memories from last night flooded me. I wanted to do as Mateo asked and trust him, but painful experience was a more powerful teacher than hollow promises. Seeing was believing, and I’d seen all I needed to inked all over his back.

“Mine,” I answered flatly. “However, I do have some information for you. Do what you want with it, but after this, leave me out of it.”

Alex studied me, his gaze impassive. “That remains to be seen, but continue.”

“Hector Diaz is dead. I think he might be connected to the man who was in Luis’s apartment that night.” I waited for the shock to register on his face before adding, “I think the Carreras are involved.”

Alex didn’t flinch. He just sucked on the end of that damn cigarette, squinting an eye at me. “Have you found anything concrete?”

“No.”

“I’m getting real tired of this, Leighton.” He flicked his cigarette out of the crack in his window. “I’m a patient man, but even patient men have their limits.” Pressing a button on his door, he stared straight ahead as the crack in the window disappeared.

Swallowing the panic crawling up my throat, I reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Frantic, I pushed the unlock button, but nothing happened.

Just stay calm.

“Let me out, Agent Atwood. I’m late for work.”

Alex smiled, his lips pulling back to reveal nicotine-stained teeth as he unlocked the door. “Know your role, Miss Harcourt.”