[English] The Viper

The Viper
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“I’ve been okay so far.”

“No, you haven’t. Have you missed all the **** going on? Your ex broke in. His girlfriend tried to kill you. That’s ****ed up.”

“I don’t believe Ashley tried to cause that accident. I know you do, but I don’t. Even if it was her car, I don’t think she did it on purpose,” she whispered and then looked up at him. “Besides, that accident is the reason we’re here now. I can’t regret that, Marcos.”

“You didn’t win anything when I ran into you.” He pointed to himself. “I’m not a good person, Katie.”

“Yes, you are.” She reached out to him, and he knocked her hand away and walked to the kitchen, but she didn’t let that stop her from fighting him on this. “I did win something.” Her voice cracked as she admitted, “This week has been the most amazing week of my life.”

“Don’t.” He walked back into the living room with the condoms in his hand. “You promised!”

She couldn’t help it, tears rolled down her cheeks without her permission as she burst out, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I got to go, chica. I can’t stay here.” He fell down on his knees in front of her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He buried his face in her neck and whispered, “You know I can’t stay here.”

“I know!” God, why was she crying now? It wasn’t even Sunday, and she was going to ruin their last day together. “Make me stop crying. Help me.”

“Hold these.”

He pushed the string of gold-foiled condoms into her hand and then wrapped his arms around her again. She clung to him, both her arms tight around his neck as he picked her up, because he was big and strong, and she discovered early on he could do things like that.

She twined her legs around his waist, and when he fell onto the bed with her, she kept them like that, clinging to him like a lifeline. He threaded one hand in her hair, fisting it and tugging her head back. Then he kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth again as he forced her to feel all of him against her.

She tossed the condoms on the bed to touch him, but he pulled back and grabbed them. He put them back in her hand. “I told you to hold ’em.”

She wiped at her face. “Why?”

“Because they’re your reminder.” His eyes glowed in the semidarkness of the room, and they were shiny in a way she had never seen before, but his voice was still hard as he said, “You don’t trust thugs.”

“I do, though,” she whispered as she wiped at her face again. “I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever trusted in my life.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do.” She threw the condoms as hard as she could to make her point. “You can’t tell me who to trust!”

“Ay, chica!” he yelled as he rolled over and hung over the bed to grab them. He ripped one off and then reached down, tugging on her dress. He pulled it over Katie’s head with very little help from her and tossed it aside. Then he put the condom in the low dip in the front of her bra so that it was trapped between her breasts. When she went to pull it out, he grabbed her hands before she could. “If you’re gonna be stubborn and won’t hold it, I’ll make you hold it.”

She tried to pull her hands free as she argued, “But you said you like me being stubborn.”

“I know.” He glanced down at her tits, eyeing the condom trapped between them. “I like it a lot.”

He bent down and tried to kiss her, but she turned head away rather than let him. “You’re being bossy.”

He shifted his hold, capturing both her wrists with one hand. She tried to pull free, but he still had her trapped as he used his other hand to grab her face and turned her back to him. “You like me being bossy.”

“No, I d—”

He kissed her before she could finish. She fought not to open to him, even if his weight over her always felt so good and his lips were always so soft and so easy to obey.

Still she held strong.

He forced her legs apart and all she could feel was the hard, warm length of his body against hers. His jeans chaffing the inside of her thighs. The outline of his hard **** pressing against her ***** as he thrust against her, as if he was already ****ing her. It felt so good she couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, and he swept his tongue in triumphantly. She let herself be defeated, because tomorrow was Sunday, and she needed this. It was more important than pride or his stupid rules.

When he pulled back and looked down at her, she whispered in defeat, “I’ll hold it.”

“Okay,” he said as he freed her hands and let her tangle her fingers into his dark hair.

She tugged him down and captured his lips with hers. She was the one who kissed him, and he let her do it rather than gloat, because he was a good guy, even if he didn’t know it.

Then he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, so that he was sprawled out on the bed under her. Her hair fell like a veil around him, hiding them as she kissed him. He grasped her ass with both hands and held on, forcing her tighter against him.

“You want it?” he breathed into her mouth.

“Yes,” she said and then kissed him again because she couldn’t help herself.

He allowed Katie to have her way with him, letting her tongue slip into his mouth over and over again as he slid his hands up and unclasped her bra like a man who had a lot of practice. Then he tugged on a strand of her hair and said, “Sit up.”

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She flipped her hair back and did as told, sitting over him, allowing him to pull the condom out of her bra. When he grabbed her hand and put it in her open palm, she closed her fingers around it rather than argue.

He pulled her bra off and tossed it aside. For one long moment, he just leaned back on one arm and admired her over him and, she let him, because something about the way he looked at her always made her feel beautiful and ***y in a way she never thought possible.

His gaze on her breasts was hot and needy. “I’m gonna miss ’em. You have the nicest set of tits I’ve ever seen.”

Katie laughed. “They’ll miss you too.”

“Yeah?” he asked as he finally looked back up to her face and smiled. “You think so?”

She nodded. “I know so.”

He reached up and fisted his hand in her hair. He tugged her head back, forcing her to put a hand on his thigh for balance. She gasped when he wrapped his other arm around her, supporting her as he leaned down and sucked on one of her nipples.

She arched and rubbed herself against him as he sucked and teased. When he tried to pull away, she tangled her fingers in his hair just like he was doing to her, holding him to her.

She watched him do it, trying to remember exactly what he looked like. The way her pale fingers looked in his inky hair. The way his eyes glowed when he did pull away, only to lick his lips and suck on the other one.

Then he drew his tongue up her chest, to the line of her throat, forcing her head back again to finally suck on her neck. Katie knew he was marking her, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her, so much so she forced him away only to bring him back to the other side. He must have understood, because he sucked just as hard the second time.

Then he pulled back, his eyes still glowing as he reached around her, finding the condom clutched in her other hand being crushed as she dug her nails into his jean-covered thigh. He held it up and said, “Hold it.”

“I was holding it,” she reminded him.

He eyed her mouth and arched an eyebrow pointedly.

She huffed and leaned forward to grab it with her teeth, but made sure to give him a look that said she wasn’t pleased.

He didn’t seem to care as he looked down between them, where his hard, jean-covered **** was pressed against her lace-covered *****. “Take it out.”

She reached between them to pull at the button of his jeans, and then lowered the zipper. He fell back, putting his weight on both his forearms, and arched his hips, letting her push his jeans and underwear down far enough to free his ****.

“Put it on me.”

She grabbed the edge of the condom and used her teeth to rip it open the way Marcos usually did. She made sure to spit the top of the wrapper at his face, but he just laughed at her protest.

“You’re not the first chica to spit on me.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s nice, Marcos.”

“I’m a thug,” he said without remorse. “I keep telling you that.”

“I don’t care if I’m not the first one to spit on you.” Katie narrowed her eyes at him and then went one step further by licking her palm, doing it long and slow while he watched. “I just wish I was the last.”

“Ay Dios mio.” His head fell back when she used her spit-slicked hand to stroke him. “Put it on.”

“No, I’m the one holding it. I get to decide when I put it on.”

He arched into her hand, uncaring about her protest. “Coño, you’re ***y.”

“Really?”

“****, yes.” He sat up and wrapped one hand around the base of her neck, tugging her forward so fast she gasped. He bit at her bottom lip. “Open for me.”

She did, letting him kiss her hard and sloppy, with their teeth clashing and their tongues brushing. She was so caught up in it, she hardly noticed when he yanked the open condom packet out of her other hand. He bit her lip one more time before he fell onto his back and went ahead and pulled the condom out.

“I won,” she pointed out as he rolled the condom on.

“No, you didn’t.” He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck again and then pulled her tight against him. He flipped their positions so fast she gasped when she found herself flat on her back, with Marcos hovering over her. “We both lose, chica.”

She heard the pain in his voice then, the sheer agony that this was happening to them. That life would give them something like this and then yank it away after only a week.

She cupped a hand to her mouth when the tears cropped up out of the blue, but he yanked it away before she gave in to the tears. “No crying. I want you to stop letting the world hurt you. That means you don’t let thugs make you cry.”

She wanted to tell him she couldn’t help it, but he kissed her before she could. He just pushed her panties aside rather than pull them off her, and then he was sliding in, stretching her and filling her, and it fell so good she couldn’t help but jerk her head back and moan.

He grabbed both her hands, pinning Katie beneath him as he slid all the way in. He was still then, with just the sound of their ragged breathing filling the air. She didn’t want to do it, but she opened her eyes, letting tears roll down her cheeks as she looked up to see him staring down at her as if he was afraid she’d evaporate right out from under him.

“I love you.” His voice cracked as he said it. “You know that, right?”

She nodded. “I know.”

He leaned down and buried his face in her neck. “Eres bella.”

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“Thank you,” she choked out, because she knew that one. He’d been saying it for a week. “You’re beautiful too.”

Then she held him and let him **** her until she was gasping in pleasure despite the tears. When she came, he did too. Usually he held out to force a second one out of her. She wouldn’t have been able to do it, and he probably wouldn’t either.

They both needed their pleasure. Right now. Before it went away.

When it was over, he let her curl up to him, with her head resting against his shoulder and her arms wrapped around him. It felt so good to be in this spot, the place where she’d slept every night this week. She just couldn’t let him go. He didn’t even get up to take care of the condom; he just lay with her instead.

She tilted her head and pressed her face against his shoulder to hide.

“You wanna cry, chica?”

She nodded and squeaked, “Yes.”

“Then you cry.” He sighed as he caressed her arm. “I can’t make you hard, so you be soft for both of us, okay?”

“O-okay,” she rasped, and then the sorrow shook her whole frame when she started sobbing.

And it didn’t stop.

For twenty-four hours they ****ed and Katie cried and Marcos let her, but he still left. The only saving grace was, he didn’t make her kick him out. Like he’d never been there, he slipped out of her house sometime after midnight on Sunday.

He warned her he was a thief. He’d done it a hundred times. He said he would steal anything left unattended long enough for him to take. Only nothing was out of place in her house. Nothing was missing.

The only thing he’d taken was her heart.

She wished he would’ve stolen her car instead.

Chapter Fourteen

Marcos stared at his cousin’s door and then eyed his key chain, debating if he should break in or knock. Considering it was past three in the morning, he decided to pick the lock.

He opened the door, hoping he wasn’t going to see his cousin’s chica. Instead he spied his cousin sitting alone at the kitchen table with a bottle of Patrón in front of him.

Chuito just swirled the liquid in his glass and eyed Marcos rather than say anything. He tossed the drink back, grimacing over it after he swallowed it all.

“How drunk are you?” Marcos asked him.

“Not drunk enough,” Chuito said as he poured himself another drink. “Close the door. Quietly. She’s sleeping.”

Marcos knew he was talking about his neighbor, and he took care with the door when he closed it. Then he walked into the kitchen, seeing that Chuito looked worse for the wear, with circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping much over the past week.

“I’m sorry, Chu.”

Chuito shrugged. “So am I. Sit.” He gestured to the other chair. “You want a drink?”

“No, I got to drive back.”

Chuito nodded as if he expected it. “You were right, you know?” he said in Spanish. “About Alaine.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Marcos sat, and then winced as he watched him take another shot. Never let it be said Chuito half-assed anything. When his cousin decided to get drunk, he really went all out.

Chuito filled up his glass again.

“Ay, Chu.” Marcos groaned when he downed it. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I don’t get sick. Ballers don’t get sick.”

Marcos arched an eyebrow because he knew that was a lie.

“You’re a ****ing baller now? Yeah, right. I’ve seen the car you drive.”

“It’s a good car,” Chuito argued. “There’s nothing wrong with my vehicle.”

“You keep telling yourself that, baller.”

Chuito chuckled. “I miss you, Marc.”

“I miss you too.” Marcos leaned his arm against the table and rested his forehead in his hand. “You want to help me?”

Chuito just looked at him expectantly.

“Watch her for me.” He covered his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “Don’t let any of the pendejos here hurt her.”

“You gonna cry, chica?” Chuito asked him harshly. “Over the gringa?”

“Probably.”

“Cries over the gringa, but doesn’t cry for himself. Unbelievable.”

Marcos dropped his hand and looked at him. “Are you gonna do it?”

“No.” Chuito poured himself another drink. “No, I’m not. She made you soft. Why the **** would I look out for a puta who did something that’s gonna put you six feet under?”

Marcos smacked the glass out of his hand after he drank it. “Tell me you’ll watch her.”

Chuito just laughed as he reached over and picked it up. He lifted his head and looked at Marcos. “No. You want her watched, you do it yourself.”

“You know what, I’m just gonna acknowledge that you’re completely ****faced right now, and if you weren’t, you might not be this much of a heartless thug.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m capable of being a pretty hardcore thug when properly motivated…without being ****faced.”

“Yeah, I know.” Marcos raised his eyebrows. “I got the nightmares to prove it.”

“Do you blame me for your nightmares?”

“No, I blame you for not watching over my chica when I asked you to!” Marcos shot back. “You keep saying you want me to ask you for help. I’m asking. I love her, you know?”

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“Ay Dios mio.” Chuito poured himself another drink. “Just ****ing cry about it already.”

Marcos shook his head. “No.”

Chuito pushed the glass toward Marcos. “Drink it. It’ll help.”

“I’m driving, mother****er.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t go back to Miami like this. Stay here tonight. Leave tomorrow. Your chica won’t know.”

“What if I try to go back to her?” Marcos eyed the cup, fairly certain with enough of that in him, he would go wandering back to Katie. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“I’ll stop you.” Chuito sounded confident about it too.

“You’re gonna be dating a toilet in another hour.”

“Catch up, then. We’ll share.”

Marcos rolled his eyes and then picked up the glass. He tried to choke it down without coughing, but **** if he didn’t hate this ****. “Coño, it tastes like mierda. Why can’t you drink rum? Always the tequila. Why?”

“It does the job faster.”

“Do you ever do anything just to do it?” Marcos asked when Chuito refilled the glass for him. “Just because it tastes good? Or feels good? I mean, if you’re gonna get ****faced, you should enjoy it.”

“This is not for enjoyment. If it was for enjoyment, I’d be doing something else. You know that.”

“What’s it for, then?”

“So you can cry over your chica and get it all out of your system before you go back to Miami and deal with Angel. You already got problems. You don’t need to add being soft to the list.”

Marcos downed it and cursed a second time. He slid the glass back to Chuito. “How do you know it’ll work?”

“I’ve tested it for you.” Chuito filled the glass to the top and then drank half of it. “Many times.”

“Why, you love her? Your neighbor?”

“No, only chicas fall in love.”

Marcos emptied the rest of the glass and dared him, “Call me chica again.”

“What? You gonna do something about it? I can still take you.” Chuito laughed. “Chica.”

Marcos lashed out, jumping across the table to swing at his cousin, but the seriously ****ed-up thing about it was, Chuito caught his wrist, his gaze hard all of a sudden. “You underestimate me. Just like you underestimate Angel.”

“Mal***a sea la madre que te parió,” Marcos cursed as he yanked his wrist free and sat down. He looked at the half-empty bottle in disbelief. “How much of this mierda do you drink on a regular basis?”

“I stop when I have a fight coming up,” Chuito said, suddenly defensive. “Sometimes I go for months without drinking it.”

“And the other times?”

“It makes it easier. Keeps me from seeing Juan when I close my eyes. And your mother. I didn’t even try to save her, Marc.”

“She was already dead,” Marcos reminded him. “You couldn’t—”

“I miss her. Sometimes I think I loved her more than my own mother.”

“Shut up.”

“No, my mother, she’s wild. You know that. She does what feels good. Not what feels responsible. Always lives in the moment. Your mother at least tried to keep us in line.”

“It’s a bit rich to be talking about my Tía Sofia not being responsible when you’re downing a bottle of Patrón.”

Chuito sighed, looking so very tired all of a sudden. “She wouldn’t go to Puerto Rico.”

“¡Me cago en ná!” Marcos shouted at him. “You were supposed to make her!”

“Shh.” Chuito held a finger to his lips and then pointed in the direction of his neighbor. “She’s sleeping.”

Marcos lowered his voice. “Why didn’t you make her go?”

“Because, like you, she’s stubborn and doesn’t want help,” Chuito growled at him. “I can’t make her do anything. Dealing with both of you is like trying to harness two hurricanes.”

“It’s the eyes,” Marcos admitted as he took another drink. He couldn’t down this stuff like Chuito, but enough of it was in his system to let him pretend it was rum. “They make us ***y.”

“They make you crazy. She’s got some chico she thinks she’s in love with. She’ll be done with him in a week.”

“Why are you always downing on your mother? The eyes make the chicos want her just like they make the chicas want me. Maybe if you had them, you’d understand.”

“They get you in trouble. Do you know him?”

“Fernán, yeah? He’s okay. For a Cuban.”

“Coño.” Chuito dropped his head to his folded arms on the table. “A Cuban. That’s worse than your gringa.”

“Do you really have the cojones to give us **** about that? You have your own gringa problems.”

“I don’t have a gringa. Alaine’s got a boyfriend,” Chuito said into his arms. “Some gringo named Edward. She’ll probably marry him.”

“Does Edward know she’s slipping into your room every night?”

“It’s not every night.” His voice was suddenly anguished. “God, I hate that pendejo. I know he doesn’t appreciate her.”

Marcos took another sip of his drink as he eyed his cousin. “Who’s crying now, chica?”

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Chuito just lifted his hand and flipped him off rather than respond.

“Go down on her. She’ll forget about Edward.” Marcos emptied the glass because he clearly needed to catch up. “Have you fooled around with her?”

“No.”

“I’m starting to think you need some tips in this department.” Marcos mused and then poured himself another drink. “Next time she comes in your room, no more talking. You don’t ask, you just do it. Spread her legs and put your face in her *****. She’ll like it. They all like it.”

Chuito lifted his head and looked at him. “How did you get that teacher to like you so much? You’re the last guy she should want.”

“I just told you.”

“You’re just…you?” Chuito gestured to Marcos. “And she likes it?”

“Yeah, she likes it a lot.” Marcos looked down at his glass that he had refilled at some point. He downed it in one shot and then grimaced and pushed the cup to his cousin. He dropped his head to his arms like Chuito had, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like such a pendejo. I just left while she was sleeping. I didn’t even say good-bye. I couldn’t.”

“Then stay.”

“In this town? Where everyone thinks I’m a criminal? No.”

“You are a criminal. You just said she liked it.”

“Look at your arm, mother****er. I’m not the only gangster in this room.” He lifted his head and looked at his cousin. “Promise you’ll watch her. I need to know the world isn’t going to hurt her anymore. I can’t deal with the Angel situation until I know you’re watching her. It’s the only way I’ll be okay.”

“Why?”

“Because you get things done. You’re not a ****up like me. You always get **** done.” Marcos dropped his face back to his arms as his head swam and the room started to feel like it was spinning. “Always.”

“Not always.” Chuito sighed. “Not when it counts.”

Marcos didn’t know if Chuito was talking about his neighbor or all the other bull**** going on. In truth, he didn’t care. He knew one way or the other, this problem with Angel was going to make it impossible to see Katie again. Angel would keep using Marcos’s aunt against him until he had to go back. Not just his aunt, but his friends. A lot of the OGs were more loyal to Chuito than Angel, and Marcos didn’t put it past Angel to smoke all of them to make his point. Marcos had to make a stand against him. He wasn’t going to be a pawn against his cousin. He couldn’t be, not even for Katie, but he had to know she was going to be safe.

“Please watch her.”

“Fine.” Chuito huffed in defeat. “I’ll watch her.”

Chapter Fifteen

Katie called in sick on Monday. Then she did it again on Tuesday when she realized everyone thought it was because of the situation with Grayson. But she had an obligation to her students and finally put her big-girl panties on and went to work on Wednesday.

Being at school wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t helped by Grayson and Ashley being there. Everyone was talking, even the students, and it wasn’t just about the break-in. Katie didn’t know if Ashley and Grayson had done damage control and spread rumors about her and Marcos, or if it was just the natural curiosity of this town that had the relationship spreading like wildfire.

There was talk everywhere about Marcos staying at her house, and the things some people said about him weren’t nice. It didn’t embarrass her. It just made her angry that he could be so unfairly judged.

Especially considering everyone in this town loved Chuito, but then, Chuito had two title belts and was currently their only reigning UFC World Champion. That apparently made him acceptable.

It wasn’t a lie anymore. She was really starting to hate this town.

She had a horrible headache by the time she got to the parking lot. She hadn’t had much sleep, and she was still fighting tears half the time. She didn’t even care that everyone was saying terrible things about her.

She just wanted Marcos back, which was crazy. He was a legitimate thief now. He’d stolen things she truly valued. Her heart. Her dignity. Her sanity. She was mad at him for leaving, and more so, she was mad at him for making her miss him.

She decided to skip the wine and drink the rest of his rum tonight, the only thing he had left behind. She had nothing to remember him by. Not even a phone number. All she had were the scars on her arm.

She pulled up short, holding on to her briefcase tighter when she saw Chuito leaning against her car, his muscular arms folded over his chest as he stood there as if he had nothing else to do.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t lock your car,” Chuito said rather than answer her question. “This is a high school parking lot.”

“So?”

“A lot of car thieves are teenagers.”

“Whatever.” She stepped around Chuito to open her door, but he blocked her. “Can I help you?”

“You’re not looking so hot. You have circles under your eyes.”

“Thank you, Chuito, for pointing that out,” she said drily. “I wasn’t having a bad enough day.”

“Why are you having a bad day?”

“You know why.”

“’Cause they’re talking about you hitting it with a Latino gangbanger. You embarrassed, chica?”

“I hate you,” she announced more to herself than anyone as she tried to properly evaluate her feelings about Marcos’s cousin. “Yes, definitely. I hate you.”

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Chuito laughed and then tilted his head and looked across the parking lot. “Are they giving you a bad time?”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

She frowned, remembering several very clear threats by Marcos to maim and kill Grayson if he bothered her. “What is this about?”

“Nothing.” Chuito shook his head. “Just hanging out.”

“In the high school parking lot?”

“Sure.”

“People get arrested for things like that.”

“If I’m gonna get arrested, it won’t be for that.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” She reached around Chuito, ignoring his imposing frame as she opened her door and tugged, forcing it to hit his back. “I’m tired of being the confessional for thieves and gangsters. Are you going to move?”

“You want me to buy you an early dinner?”

“No, are you hitting on me?”

Chuito laughed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I got enough ****ing problems. I don’t need to add hitting on my cousin’s chica to the list.”

“I’m not his chica.”

“Whatever you say.” Chuito shrugged. “Dinner?”

“You’re not moving until I say yes, are you?”

“No, probably not.”

“Fine. Meet you at Hal’s.”

“I walked here. We’ll take your car.” Chuito opened the door for her. “Gimme your keys.”

Katie gaped when he actually helped himself to the driver’s seat of her car.

“We need to sit down and start to really analyze the hypermachoism that is running rampant in your family,” she told him with concern.

“Fine, be difficult.”

Chuito pulled out his keychain that was heavy and had all the same tools Marcos’s did. He used a small screwdriver and, with very little effort, popped off the silver top to her ignition.

“You’re breaking my car,” she said in horror.

“I’ll fix it.” Chuito used a different tool on his key chain. He stuck it in the now exposed section of the car’s ignition and looked ahead as he fiddled with it, as if searching for something by feel, and within a few seconds, the car purred to life as if he was simply using a key. He gestured to her. “Come on. Vámanos.”

“My God,” she whispered, because she was sort of impressed, though she knew she shouldn’t be. “Can Marcos do it that fast?”

“Oh, please. I’m so much better at this than him.” Chuito gestured to the passenger seat. “In. Now. I’m hungry.”

Katie walked around to the passenger side and opened it. She looked out to the parking lot to see if anyone noticed that Chuito was essentially stealing her car.

No one did.

She put her briefcase down and then crawled in and buckled her seat belt, but the car wasn’t moving. She turned, seeing that Chuito was staring at her like she was insane.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“That’s it? You just get in the car with a guy who jacked it?”

“You said you were buying dinner.”

“Coño, no wonder he’s paranoid. You just said you hated me.” Chuito looked behind him to back up. “You are crazy, chica. Maybe you should end up with my cousin. He’s crazy too.”

Katie sighed and rested her elbow on the window. She put her head in her hand as she looked at the scenery. “Is he okay? I got the impression he’s in trouble at home.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Chuito sounded as stressed as she felt. “But, if it makes you feel better, Marcos is perpetually in trouble.”

“And you’re not?”

“I try not to be.”

She thought about that for a while, because that was a very different answer than one she would get from Marcos. Finally, she asked, “When was the last time you stole a car?”

“About three minutes ago.”

“Before that?”

“I dunno.” Chuito rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Five, six years ago? Give or take.”

“But you don’t need to steal cars anymore?” She knew he was a very popular fighter; after winning his second UFC title, he was arguably as popular as Clay. “You’re rich from the fighting.”

“I do all right.”

“How come you don’t drive a Ferrari like Romeo Wellings?” Katie asked, remembering that Marcos said Chuito gave money to all his old friends. “Or live somewhere besides over Jules’s office? Clay and Melody Powers just bought that big house on Westerly. You could probably afford one too.”

“What is the deal with the questions?” Chuito barked at her. “No more questions.”

Katie grinned in spite of everything. “OGs don’t like questions.”

“No, they don’t,” Chuito agreed as he turned and gave her a smile. “What do you know about OGs?”

Katie arched an eyebrow at him.

“You’re interesting, Katie. I’ll give you that. Very interesting. Not too many gringas show up and let some Latino steal their car and just go along for the ride.”

“And that’s exactly what it feels like.” Katie sighed and rested her forehead back in her hand as she looked out the window again. “Does he do this to every girl he hooks up with for the week? Leave her heartbroken and ask you to show up and sweep up the pieces? I know that’s why you’re here.”

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“You think Marcos stays with women for a week at a time?”

“Doesn’t he?”

“No, he doesn’t. A night, maybe, a week, no,” Chuito assured her as he parked at Hal’s. “And you’re the first one he’s asked me to sweep up the pieces for. I guess that means he’s growing up. I suppose that’s something.”

He messed with the tool sticking out of her ignition, and it turned off. She was still amazed, because not only did it take incredible speed and efficacy to steal a car…it also took incredible wit.

“Did you graduate from high school?” she asked curiously.

“Are you kidding?” Chuito snorted and turned to her. “I got expelled when I was sixteen.”

“I feel like the system is failing in Miami.”

“Chica, the system is failing everywhere. Miami is not unique. Why do you think I volunteer at the Cellar as much as I do? Kids drop out in Garnet too.”

“Not the same,” she argued, because she was a high school teacher. She knew their drop-out rate was very low. All the teachers worked hard to help out their troubled youth, and, as Chuito observed, the Cellar helped too. She shrugged, trying not to dwell on things she couldn’t fix. “Are you going to put the top part of the ignition back?”

“No, it’s broken. I’ll have to replace the ignition. I’ll stop on the way home and get you a new one. I’ll install it.”

“Why would you break my car if it’s going to cost time and money to repair?” Katie asked in disbelief. “That makes no sense.”

Chuito held up his key chain and looked at it for a long moment. “It’s been a long time since I carried a key chain like this. It’s been in the drawer for years. I just wanted to see if I could still use it.”

“Is that a skill you forget?” Katie asked, because he didn’t seem to be struggling from lack of practice.

“No, it’s the mentality. Here, it’s easy to forget that part. I’ve been away from home for a long time.” Chuito looked haunted as he stared ahead, as if taking in his surroundings just to remind himself where he was. “I should’ve thrown it away years ago, but I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

He turned to her, his gaze calculating before he finally admitted, “I think I knew I might have to go back to it eventually.”

“Stealing cars?” She laughed. “You can’t be hurting that bad for cash. I don’t care how much you give away to your friends.”

“No, the rest of it. Stealing cars was always the easy part.” He stood and put his keys in his pocket. “I needed to see if I could do the easy stuff to make sure I wouldn’t **** up the big stuff.”

“What’s the big stuff?” Katie sat there staring at him. Chuito might not have been her favorite person before now, but he was her closest connection to Marcos, and she found she didn’t mind his company for that reason if nothing else. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.” He sighed as he leaned against the door frame to her car, resting his head on his arm. “Coño. I wish you could’ve made him stay here.”

“I tried.” She couldn’t help the tears that stung her eyes. “I didn’t want him to go either.”

“I know.” He lifted his head and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. It’s not even his fault. It’s my fault. Marcos is a lover. I’m the fighter. I just dragged him down with me, and then I left him there to deal with the **** I got us into.”

Katie wanted to say something, but the words were trapped in her throat. Their realities were so much more complex and dangerous than anything she could have imagined before Marcos had crashed into her life.

A lot of it was very unfair, but they didn’t seem to look at it like that.

“Dinner.” Chuito closed the door and walked toward the diner.

Chuito was one of those men who expected people to follow when he spoke, and she got the impression that, like Marcos, he had earned that attitude the hard way.

Marcos said he got to be the original OG by being a nice guy, and maybe that was half-true. He helped out all of his friends. She imagined those other gangsters weren’t any different than Marcos, made hard by life, with thick shells that kept them from expressing even the most basic of vulnerabilities.

Men like that didn’t give their loyalty to just anyone. They certainly wouldn’t accept help from someone easily.

They respected Chuito for a reason.

Chapter Sixteen

Miami

It was one of those great days in Miami, not too hot, not too cold. There was a breeze, but the sun was shining. Spring in Florida was always the nicest time of the year in Marcos’s opinion, after the cold, before the violent storms and unbearable heat of summer.

It was a good season to die.

Nothing worse than burying someone in the rain. His aunt had a thing about funerals and rain. She thought it was bad luck, as if there was a good day to bury someone. Still, it upset her terribly. They had all been to too many rainy funerals for their sanity, but his mother and Juan had died in the spring, and the sun had been shining when they buried them. The wind had been in their hair. It was nice. Peaceful.

Marcos lay on the grass next to his mother’s grave, staring up at the tree branches. It was a good spot. Chuito had bought out all the plots in this section a few years ago when he started to make real money fighting. Four to the left of Marcos’s mother. Five to the right of Juan. All that were left in the row.

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His Uncle Ramon was three rows over. Everyone else was buried in Puerto Rico. This was the closest they could get his mother and Juan to family. Burying them had been a huge expense. The other Los Corredores had helped, because they stuck together for things like that.

They used to be Marcos’s family too. A lot of them still were.

When Chuito bought the extra plots, Marcos asked him why so many. There weren’t that many of them left to bury. Chuito said he was planning ahead, like he always did, and in his mind they would be married and have children before they died.

Marcos had laughed in his face.

What sort of lie was he living in that little country town that let him believe they were going to end their days old and married with kids? Back then he thought the funeral director had just seen a famous fighter with a lot of money and screwed him.

Now Marcos understood a little more. He sorta liked the dream of being old and married with grandkids running around. He wondered what sort of kids he and Katie could make together. He smiled, thinking of little girls with their mother’s kind heart.

It was a nice dream, but still just a dream.

And he still thought the funeral director screwed his cousin.

At least on his side.

Maybe Chuito would marry his neighbor and have a bunch of country kids with funny accents.

Marcos pulled his sunglasses off from where they rested on the brim of his hat and put them on his face, deciding he wanted to be buried in shades like a baller. Maybe his Miami Heat hat too. None of this suit business. He hated that people always ended up looking cleaned up and saintly in death. Plus, the faces of the dead weren’t nice to look at. Somehow, the pain was still there no matter how much some mortician tried to fix it. Marcos had seen it on every friend he’d buried. He’d seen it on his mother and Juan too.

He needed to write this stuff down, because he sure as **** didn’t want people standing over him seeing the look he had on his face when he died. Shades and a hat were a necessity.

Jesus, he was depressing the **** out of himself.

He’d take the bullet. So what?

He would be remembered as hot and ***y and young instead of old and gray. There were worse fates. He tried to tell himself that, but he pulled his hat and glasses off and set them on the grass behind him, before he rolled on his side and propped his head in his hand.

“I met a girl,” he confessed to his mother in Spanish. “She’s smart. A teacher. She’s a gringa, but I think you’d like her.”

He sat there for a long time talking to his mother, telling her about Katie. About Chuito. About the Cuban, Fernán, Aunt Sofia was seeing. He basically caught her up on all the gossip because it had been too long since he’d been there, but his mother’s and Juan’s graves were well kept.

Aunt Sofia had obviously been out here recently.

His mother had probably already heard all about Fernán.

He touched her grave when he was done and then walked around the back of the two headstones, so lonely there in the row, and sat next to Juan. He wrapped an arm around the cold gray marble and closed his eyes, trying for one moment to imagine his cousin’s slim shoulders, still wiry with adolescence.

“Don’t worry,” he promised him. “I got this. I catch Chu’s back, you catch mine. That’s the deal. Put in a good word for me. As long as you make sure I end up in the right place, I can do this.”

He closed his eyes, because that marble felt nothing like the warm, enthusiastic energy that had always surrounded Juan. He was starting to feel a little insane to be asking a stone for a favor, but then the sun hit Marcos’s face just right. It glowed bright red behind his eyelids, and the breeze ruffled his hair like it had the day they’d buried both of them, making him believe, for just one crazy moment that wherever they were, his mother and Juan were just fine.

It couldn’t be such a bad thing, getting out of this hard world that hurt more than it soothed. Marcos had a ****load of sins on his soul, but maybe if he did the right thing, Juan could get him in.

“And watch over my chica for me,” he added as the leaves above him rustled. “Take care of it until I get there.”

He bumped his knuckles against the headstone and got up. He picked up his hat and glasses, and walked away without looking back. He was stronger now. It helped in a way the tequila hadn’t.

There was no traffic when he drove to the warehouse, which was a ****ing miracle. He felt Juan with him the whole way, and when he turned off his truck, he left his gun in the glove compartment.

Chuito would call him soft for it.

But Chuito wasn’t trying to get in good with God on the slim hope he’d be hanging out with Juan and his mother instead of all the thugs he’d killed avenging them.

Marcos used to like the smell of the warehouse. The stench of burned metal mixing with stale beer and bud. This time when it slapped him in the face, Marcos thought of Katie, of what she would think of the sparks flying and the billow of marijuana from the couches in the corners.

The laughing teenagers too young to be smoking, let alone packing heat.

Angel really was a bastard for recruiting them. They seemed so young to Marcos now. They didn’t have records or a reason to fight. What if one of their houses was the next one to be targeted? What if one of them had a Juan at home like Marcos and Chuito had?

They all surely had mothers who didn’t want them there.

Marcos couldn’t change the system. He was too ingrained and bitter to even begin to attempt that, but he could make a stand. The sparks stopped flying when he put his glasses up on the brim of his hat and walked over to Angel sitting on a couch in the corner.

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“Marc,” Luis called, and there was fear in his voice because he’d been in on Marcos’s chat with the OGs. He knew Marcos wasn’t pleased with Angel. “Don’t be stupid!”

Marcos had told them he was laying low, and they all had understood.

He hadn’t mentioned he was coming back to end this.

If he had, one of them would have told Chuito.

They really were blindly loyal to him.

Marcos ignored his friend. He ignored the way half the warehouse stopped working and the other half remained blissfully ignorant to the invisible line that had just been drawn in the room. Old gangsters who had seen too much and remembered a time when this gang had been about more than blood and cash, versus the young and naive who still thought Angel was their key to glory.

These people used to be his family.

Half of them still were, and it was for them more than himself that Marcos yanked Angel off the couch where he was sitting, smoking bud with some stupid teenager too young to grow a beard let alone wear ink on his arm.

“¡Ay carajo!” Angel shouted and shoved at his chest. “What the ****?”

The kid next to him shot up, but Marcos just reached out and shoved him back down to the couch. “Sixteen and blitzed, you think you can take me, cabrón? For him? Are you really stupid enough to try it? Let him fight his own battles for once.”

“Marc—” Angel touched his shoulder, but Marcos knocked his hand off. His dark eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice even as he said, “Come on, let’s talk in my office.”

Marcos got in Angel’s face and said simply, “I’m out.”

“There is no out.” Angel laughed in disbelief and then showed his cards, blatantly, in front of everyone. “Especially for you.”

Yeah, this had all been a game. Some ego trip because the power had gone to Angel’s head. **** that. This just proved he’d never really known Marcos. He’d never been his friend. Not really. Either that, or the dumbass had just forgotten what Marcos was capable of when pushed against the wall.

“Yes, there is,” Marcos assured him. “This is it. I’m out, mother****er.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, and then he leaned into him and switched to Spanish as he whispered in his ear, “Don’t do this. I don’t want to do what you know I’ll have to do if you’re serious about this.”

“Do it.” Marcos held up his hands as he switched to Spanish too. He looked to the kid on the couch and then turned back to Angel. “Show him what happens if he decides he’s tired of it one day.” The warehouse was dead silent now. Marcos turned around, seeing Luis, Miguel, and Neto standing behind him. Their eyes were wide, but they were there. They had his back even if he didn’t want them to. He turned to Angel and said simply, “Show them all.”

For one brief moment, Angel seemed to pause as if weighing his options. The odds were clearly in his favor. There were many more young people in this room. They had already buried so many of their old crew.

Angel grabbed his .38 from the back of his pants, faster than Marcos expected, considering how bloodshot his eyes were. It wasn’t the first gun Marcos had shoved under his chin, and, like the other times, he couldn’t help but wince at the thought of taking a bullet like that.

So much for being buried like a baller.

“You want me to do it?” Angel growled. “Is this what you want, you stupid asshole? You want to take a bullet because you’re too ****ing prideful to help out your family?”

“Yup.” Marcos didn’t even close his eyes. “Go for it. I dare you.”

“Don’t do it.” Luis’s voice shook. “Angel, you know you can’t do it. Chuito—” Angel clicked the safety when he said it, and Luis cursed. “¡Coño! Angel, no!”

“**** that!” Marcos argued. “Let him do it! Smoke me, mother****er! You think you’re so bad, do it!” He grabbed Angel’s hand and slipped his thumb over Angel’s finger on the trigger. “Do it, or I will. I’ll eat my own bullet before I let you use me against my cousin. If this is the only way out, let’s do it together. Let’s show these kids how you treat your family.”

“You are ****ing crazy, Marcos!” Angel shouted at him. “You’re crazy!”

“Chuito will rip you apart,” Neto warned, his voice much more even than Luis’s. “And we never swore loyalty to you, Angel. Not really. We swore it to Chu first.”

“You pull that trigger, and you’re gonna start a war,” Miguel assured him. “We’re not the only OGs who are loyal to Marcos. You think you can take all of us? There’s a lot of gangsters who’ll come out of retirement for this.”

Angel was breathing heavily, much more so than Marcos as the two of them stood there, their hands on a single gun that could end all the pain this world had inflicted on Marcos.

“Move your hand,” Angel whispered and then leaned in closer and said low enough for only Marcos to hear, “Do you really want me to take out all of them?”

Actually, Marcos hadn’t expected quite this level of commitment from his friends. He wasn’t sure what would happen after Angel pulled the trigger, but he didn’t want to risk having company at the graveyard.

He moved his hand, and Angel lowered his gun. He flipped the safety back and slipped the .38 back into his jeans. “Get out of my warehouse, Marcos.”