Page 132 of Faded Gray Lines
“So, I’m officially dead for forty-eight more hours, huh?”
The smirk on Leighton’s face made me question our plan. After all she’d been through, maybe I needed to handle this myself.
“No,” she said firmly as if reading my mind. “I’m doing this. She’s not getting away with it.”
We didn’t speak again, riding the rest of the way in silence with Stella sleeping soundly in the back. Although I had no idea how she managed it, considering her uncle’s four-letter tirade when Leighton called him and explained everything that had happened.
By the time we got to Brody’s apartment, my whole body felt like a downed power line. Stella whined about spending the night away from her mother, but Leighton managed to soothe her with promises of candy and dolls and other shit I had no idea about. Eventually, she gave in, giving her uncle a hug and kiss before skipping off to his bedroom to watch television. Obviously, the two of them had a solid relationship.
A fact that both calmed and irritated me.
Brody watched Stella until she closed the door then turned his gaze toward us. His expression was dark and sullen. The ravaged man I’d left on his knees in that field was gone. In his place stood a man fractured by his own choices. The Brody Harcourt I’d come to know and call a friend was locked away behind a wall of nothing. He was lost, and I wasn’t sure he’d ever return.
A tear fell from the corner of Leighton’s eye as she wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck. For whatever reason, he couldn’t hug her back, and my heart broke for them when I saw Leighton die a little inside.
“I’m going to fix everything,” she whispered in his ear. “My best attack is a surprise attack.”
Brody stared at the wall. “It shouldn’t have gotten this far. I should’ve protected both of you.”
I’d seen her tortured enough for one day. Stepping in, I took her by the hand. “They’re ready for us. We have to go,mi amor.”
Forty-Five
Leighton
When Mateo saidthey were ready for us, he wasn’t kidding—and by “they,” he meant Val and Eden. He’d called them the way to Brody’s with explicit instructions on what to have ready for us at the Aloft Hotel in downtown Houston. By the time we arrived, my stomach was already in knots.
Even after a few hours of sleep, I felt no better. While Mateo got ready in the main room, I fought with the tie on my wrap dress as Eden fussed with a stray hair that had escaped out of my brown wig. Just as she got it tucked back in, it popped back out.
“I look ridiculous,” I said, collapsing against the sink.
To her credit, Eden didn’t seem offended. In fact, she leaned next to me on the counter and smiled. “There’s no worse betrayal than that of a parent.”
“You sound like you know from experience.”
She gave me a sad smile and patted her belly. “This little guy doesn’t have any grandparents either, Leighton. That’s not by accident. We’re taught to honor thy mother and father, but where’s their rule? They’re supposed to love and protect us at all costs. When they don’t honor their commitment, we’re no longer bound to honor ours.” Squeezing my hand, she walked out and closed the door behind her.
Turning around, I let her words sink in. The longer I stood there, the less nervous I felt and my heart filled with overdue revenge.
“Checkmate,” I announced to the strange woman in the mirror.
* * *
The JW Marriott was a short six-minute walk from the Aloft Hotel. Our choice of meeting places wasn’t by accident. We needed quick and easy access both inside and outside the hotel. Although we weren’t guests, Val had secured us keys to the side entrance, which had been staked out and verified as unguarded. Gaining access to the room wouldn’t be a problem. Unlike a traditional campaign event, this was a press conference and authorization wasn’t required.
A fatal mistake on her part.
As we walked toward the enormous banquet room, the sound of her voice boomed over the microphone, filtering into the hallway. I felt myself tense. Apparently so did Mateo, because he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. Absorbing his strength, I nodded, and we walked inside, blending in with the crowd on the outskirts of the room.
My mother was in her element. When the spotlight was on her, she pulled out all the stops. Fake tears flowed down her face, and she even managed a few wobbles in her voice.
Aw, how sweet. A performance dedicated to me.
“People of Houston, I stand before you as a victim with a bleeding heart wanting to heal the wound that’s been carved in the soul of our community by evil. As you may have heard, yesterday, Emilio Reyes, owner of Caliente Cantina and who’s now known to have been head of the Carrera Cartel’s Houston sector, murdered my late husband’s parents then kidnapped and murdered my daughter and my granddaughter. He used them to lure me to a secluded location where I can only assume he planned to kill me too.”
A gasp rippled over the crowd.
My mother held up a hand. “It’s frightening to realize that evil like this lived and worked right under our noses. I know you’re asking yourselves, ‘why, Mayor Donovan? Why such a vicious attack on your family?’ I’ll tell you. Because I stood up against the Carreras. Because my late husband stood up against them. Because my son fought on the side of what is just and right. Because my daughter saw the good in a boy instead of the evil in the man.”
