“Maddox, why?” Celeste asks. “You know who my father is. You can’t do this right under his nose!”
“I . . .” I close my eyes, unable to continue my thought because I refuse to make excuses to her. It’s no secret that Arturo Flores controls the trade of every illicit vice in Los Angeles, including guns, which he refuses to allow to be trafficked through the city. People who get caught at it typically disappear.
Surprisingly, it’s my idiot brother who comes to my defense.
“It was all me. Mad didn’t want to get on board until I told him the money we made could go to our baby sister’s college fund.”
That takes the attention off me, but somehow it gets worse when Leo rounds on J.J., grabs him by the throat, and slams him against the side of the truck. “Who’s your fucking buyer?” he snarls.
Don’t say it, I’m thinking, but I see the look in J.J.’s eyes. The guy is good at being a cagey fuck when it suits him, but he has a tell when he’s about to unleash the truth—a sort of settling of his shoulders and a slow blink as if he’s about to surrender completely. I don’t know why the fuck he just decided now was the time to do it. The asshole probably thinks he’s doing it for me.
He lets go of the hold he has on Leo’s arm and says in a strangled voice, “It was supposed to be the Amador cartel, but I think you already know that deal got fucked, thanks to Gustavo.” He cuts his eyes to me and gives me a knowing smile. “Let me go and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I should fucking kill you right now and take your head to Papá,” Leo says, loosening his hold enough that J.J’s feet touch the ground again. He doesn’t release him completely though.
“But you won’t,” J.J. says, looking him right in the eyes. “I don’t know what you three have going on, but I do know my brother doesn’t let down his guard for just anyone. And I know she’s been under his skin since we were kids.” He lets out a bitter chuckle. “So it’s on me for saddling you with this, Mad. I had no idea she was back in your life or I never would have asked to store the guns here.”
“Why do it at all?” Celeste asks. She reaches for Leo’s arm and squeezes, urging him to release my brother, who sags back against the rear of the van.
“Why do people do anything for money? To have a better fucking life. I’m good at flying under the radar. Usually. I guess this time I underestimated my brother’s ability to overcome all that self-loathing he brought back from Afghanistan.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Leo snaps.
J.J. sighs and nods, then turns around, closes up the crate, and says, “I don’t suppose we can unload this shit before we talk, can we? I don’t want to leave the van parked on the street still full. You’re not gonna kill me, so just chill out, and I’m not about to run and leave my brother with his ass in the breeze.”
Leo still has murder in his eyes, and I realize for the first time how seriously he takes his job as Arturo’s lieutenant. He’s a scary motherfucker even half naked. It’s a testament to J.J.’s cold-blooded nature that he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed.
Leo finally relents, and the three of us make quick work of unloading the crates and stacking them in the corner. Celeste disappears back into the loft with the promise of fresh coffee when we get back up there, then J.J. leaves to park the truck while Leo and I replace the stack of tires to hide the contraband. The camouflage seems like overkill now that the secret’s out in the worst way possible, but I can’t relax as long as the crates are visible.
“I can’t fucking believe I’m helping you,” Leo mutters. “I’m not even wearing pants.”
I’m still in my skivvies and barefoot too, and I give him a coy once-over. “It’s a look I’m on board with. Would it help if I offered to make it up to you later?”
His cheeks redden, and he can’t disguise the slight tightening of the revealing fabric over his crotch. “Stop it, will you? You know I have to take this to Papá Flores. Keeping secrets from him is a good way to die.”
“So does that mean you’re going to tell him about us? And I don’t just mean the threesome. I mean you and me. What we have with each other.”
He places the last tire on top of the stack of crates in silence, studiously avoiding looking at me. My heart sinks a little. If he regrets last night—
“I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t, wouldn’t I?” he says, finally looking at me. “Besides, I don’t think Celeste would let me back out of this even if I wanted to.”
“Do you want to?”
He’s no longer gripped with that terrifying ferocity he had earlier. In fact, he looks a little afraid and out of his element, so I move to close the distance but he puts his hands up. I stop and frown at him.
“I want this . . . I do. But I think it might take time for it to sink in that this is who I am now. I’m still trying to wrap my head around where I landed in the Flores organization. Processing this relationship,
