The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2) (32 page)

Tino was out.

Nova wasn’t.

And they all knew it.

“You could move here,” Jules whispered as she broke the silence, because she was never good at keeping her thoughts to herself even when she
wasn’t
on morphine. “You could—”

“Jules,” Nova cut her off and lifted his head to give her a sad smile. “I’ll visit. I promise.”

“But—”

“I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee.” Nova stood, holding out the baby to Tino. “Does anyone want anything?”

Tino and Romeo shook their heads, but Jules said, “I want you to stay here. Your brothers want you to stay here. Your nephews want it too.”

“
È la morfina
,” Tino said to Nova as he settled the baby into his arms like he was made to hold one. “
Lei non ci sta con la testa
.”

“
Lo so
.” Nova patted Tino’s cheek before he walked out.

“What’d he say?” Alaine whispered to Chuito after Nova left, because Jules was distracted when Romeo leaned over and stroked her hair, speaking to her quietly.

Chuito didn’t speak Italian, but he understood why Tino knew what he was saying more often than not when he spoke Spanish. The more he was around it, the more he picked it up, and that one translated easily into Spanish.

Chuito leaned into her. “It’s the morphine.”

“Oh,” Alaine whispered, glancing to the door Nova had disappeared out of. Then she walked over and sat on the other side of Jules’s bed, still cuddling Freddy close to her chest. “I think he has your eyes. He’s not
all
Italian.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Jules asked as she leaned over and looked at her son cuddled in Alaine’s arms. “I’m so glad they moved us into the same room. They say that couch over there unfolds into a bed for Romeo, but you and me both know he ain’t fitting in that thing.”

“Likely not. He probably won’t be able to sleep anyway with these two keeping y’all up.” Alaine was still looking at the baby as she smiled. “I’ve been here for a full five minutes, and you haven’t asked me one question ’bout the office.”

“Tell me.” Jules gave Alaine an indulgent smile. “Not that I don’t have faith in your abilities to hold down the fort.”

“Gary and Sheri Turner are getting a divorce,” Alaine told her with a scandalized look.

“No! I don’t believe that.”

“I told them they had to wait till you got off maternity leave. Maybe they’ll make up.”

“Wow, they’ve been married forever,” Jules mused. “I wonder what happened.”

“I guess you’ll find out,” Alaine said with another smile, doing a much better job than anyone else in the room had of distracting Jules. “And you remember when David Prout broke his foot at Mable’s One Stop? Mrs. Dower stopped by hoping you’d be able to defend her.”

“I’m not handling that,” Jules said dismissively. “Her insurance company can help her with it. I don’t like that woman. She has never been kind to Terry, and he’s her son. I look at these babies, and I just think—” Jules shook her head and reached out to Alaine. “Give him to me.”

Alaine tucked the baby into the crook of Jules’s arms, and everything seemed to be right with Jules’s world again as she looked at her son. Romeo hovered over them and tucked another stray strand of blonde hair that had escaped Jules’s ponytail behind her ear. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Thanks.” Jules gave Romeo a smile. “I’m proud of me too.”

Tino rolled his eyes at Chuito. “They’ve been doing this all day.”

“They’re not strong like their uncles,” Jules announced as she stared at her son. “They’re strong like their mama.”

“Man, we can definitely hear the
morfina
now.” Tino laughed as he sat down in the chair Nova had vacated. “Make sure she doesn’t drop my nephew, Rome.”

“She had major surgery,” Romeo reminded him. “You’d be stoned too. Stop giving her hell about it.”

Jules giggled. “I am a little stoned.”

“Or a lot.” Alaine laughed with her.

Just like that, the depression over Nova was forgotten, and something about that bothered Chuito just a little, even though he knew that was why Nova left to begin with. So they could move on to happier topics, and his reality could be something they didn’t have to think about. Like the black sheep stepping out of the room before the darkness rubbed off.

“I’m gonna get a cup of coffee too,” Chuito said as he pointed to the door. “Are you sure none of you want anything?”

“Yeah, go ahead and get me one,” Tino said as he looked up at Chuito. “I mean, drinking hospital coffee is an insult to my heritage, but maybe they have an Italian roast or something? I can drink French coffee in an emergency. Most places have a dark-roast option.”

“They don’t,” Romeo assured him. “It’s all merda.”

Tino huffed in annoyance. “Forget it.”

“
Italianos
,” Chuito mumbled under his breath. “
Son unos consentidos
.”

Tino flipped him off in response, making it obvious he understood loud and clear that Chuito had just called his people spoiled.

Because they were.

Unbelievably so.

He walked by Wyatt and Tabitha, who were still standing there, as if they couldn’t bear to be in that room any more than Chuito could.

“You want coffee?” he asked Wyatt.

“Nah, we’re good,” Tabitha answered for him. “But thank you.”

Wyatt laughed in spite of everything. “I guess I’m good.”

Chuito arched an eyebrow at that, thinking once again of Alaine and how she had a tendency to boss him around whether he wanted her to or not. This woman really
was
Wyatt’s Alaine. It made something dark and angry burn in Chuito’s stomach, compounding with the thousand times he had lain in bed, looking at the ceiling, and wondered just how horrible it had been for his mother to be raped.

And then discover she was pregnant with the devil’s spawn.

He had found pictures when he was seven, in his grandmother’s drawer at her house in Puerto Rico, of his mother after the attack. Bruised and battered, looking so very young, for once her beauty damaged by the evil of her attacker.

But the beauty had won in the long run.

His mamá healed. She overcame. She stood strong and tried to teach Chuito to be strong too rather than give him away like others would.

“I do think it’ll be okay,” Chuito whispered to both of them, but he looked at Tabitha as he said it, because women really were so much stronger than men. Then, before he could give himself away, he asked, “You don’t want anything?”

“Water.” Wyatt reached for his wallet. “I’ll give you cash for it.”

“Ay Dios mio,” Chuito said in disbelief. “I think I owe you the bottle of water. I got it.”

He owed him a lot more than that.

And he planned to make sure he paid those debts.

Even if Wyatt never knew it.

He found Nova alone in the cafeteria, looking at his phone, with a Styrofoam cup in front of him. Chuito sat down across from him, taking a sip of his coffee that really was crap.

“I’m surprised to see you drinking it,” Chuito said as he watched Nova take a drink of his own coffee. “I thought Italians were too good for hospital coffee.”

“It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t taste like mierda to you?”

“Nope.” Nova took another sip to prove his point. “What? Was Tino bitching about the coffee options?”

“Yeah, Romeo was too. What kind of Italian are you that you’re not?”

“I dunno; they say there’s something wrong with me.” Nova shrugged. “I can eat anything. I’m not fucking picky. My ma could burn shit, and I’d still eat it. They’d fucking starve to death first. I don’t know how two guys who grew up as broke as they did can act like food is their enemy.”

“Yeah, I’m not picky either,” Chuito admitted. “Probably grew up more broke than you.”

“Then I’m sorry about that.” Nova set his phone aside and gave Chuito his attention. He studied him for a moment and then asked in Spanish, “What’re you doing out here with me? Change your mind?”

Chuito shook his head and then answered in Spanish, because it was a sure bet no one in this cafeteria understood him. “I’m not going to let Wyatt go down for what happened. That’s bullshit. If someone had done that to my chica—”

“Are you going to be cool about this?” Nova asked in concern. “Can you do it how we discussed?”

“It pisses me off,” Chuito admitted, keeping his voice low even though they were using Spanish. “It’s too easy.”

“It’s not personal. You have to look at the bigger picture,” Nova explained reasonably in the cool, easy voice of a boss with class. “It’s just about solving the problem, Garcia.”

“I know.” Chuito nodded, because he did. “I got it.”

“Gracias,” Nova said with a smile and seemed to mean it. “I appreciate it. Genuinely.”

Chuito considered that and then asked, “Do you want to move to Garnet?”

“I want to be closer to my brothers. I’d like my nephews to know who the fuck I am.” Nova picked his phone up, looking at it with a distant stare as if it was a habit he had developed as a defense mechanism. “But they’re better without me here. I can see the bigger picture. They can’t. Even Tino can’t, and he knows they’ll never let me go. I do something the old man can’t get from anyone else. They’re not going to let me go. I’m in until I die.”

“Everyone’s replaceable.”

“Not everyone,” Nova whispered sadly. “I have a photographic memory. Not too many people can do what I do for the administration. I don’t think anyone can, but if I find someone, I’ll let you know.”

Chuito raised his eyebrows, because he had to admit that made Nova pretty indispensable and explained why he couldn’t get out. It also explained why he was sitting here speaking Spanish like a Boricua instead of an Italian, but that didn’t make up for being irreplaceable to the mafia and losing his family in the bargain. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.”

“It
does
suck.” Nova let out a bitter laugh. “I think you’re the first person who noticed. It’s sucked pretty much since the day I was born.”

“What if the old man bites it?”

“What, are you volunteering?” Nova asked with a laugh. “You going to take him out for me?”

Chuito shrugged rather than commit.

Nova laughed again. “You’re ballsy. Maybe I need more Puerto Rican friends. Loyal and ballsy, it’s a handy combination.”

“Not really.” Chuito sighed. “It’s sort of a fucked-up combination. Bad shit happens. Do you believe in karma?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Nova crossed himself. “If I believed in karma, I’d have jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge a long time ago.”

“I believe in karma.”

“Oh my God.” Nova gave him a look of horror. “How do you keep breathing?”

“I don’t know.” Chuito huffed. “I’m not even a real Catholic anymore. The only time I’ve gone to church since I was seventeen was for weddings and funerals.”

Nova looked genuinely shocked. “You don’t go to confession? I know you visit Miami. You don’t go when you’re down there?”

“No.” Chuito felt as shocked as Nova looked. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Nova said as if it were obvious.

“You tell them everything?”

Nova nodded. “Yup.”

“Holy shit,” Chuito mumbled, arching an eyebrow as he took another sip of coffee. “Really? Any priest I’ve confessed a real crime to told me to turn myself in to repent.”

“You think my people don’t have a priest who’s aware of what we do?” Nova asked him with a smile. “We have a whole friggin’ church. We built it in the forties. It’s like a wiseguys convention every Sunday.”

“Of course you do.” Chuito shook his head. “You even have God in your pocket. Fucking Italians. Money fixes just about everything for you.”

“Just about,” Nova agreed and then looked at his phone as if he was hiding again.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chuito had lived in Garnet for over three years, and he’d never gone to the bad side of town. He’d driven through it on occasion, but stopped and spent time there, no fucking way.

It wasn’t how completely run-down it was.

Poverty didn’t bother him.

It certainly didn’t scare him like it did others.

Hell, in a lot of ways he was more comfortable in it. There was something about the cleaned-up, whitewashed downtown of Garnet where he lived that still grated, with all its old-fashioned houses and shops, buffed and polished to look quaint.

It made him resentful.

He didn’t even know why it made him resentful.

It just did.

But Garnet, like most towns, had its poor sections too. He’d changed his running route when Vaughn was released, winding his way through the back roads where Garnet’s poor lived, hidden off in the woods, with its run-down trailers and broken front porches, even though he had avoided this area like the plague since he’d moved there.

He had stayed away because of the drugs.

Wyatt was a good sheriff, but Chuito found them the first time he ran past the trailer park. He’d known all along it was there, but he hadn’t actually seen it until he was forced to look for it. He could spot a drug deal from a mile away, and they were far more prevalent than Wyatt probably realized.

Like Tino said, the underworld would always be there.

Crime found a way.

Always.

And it was so fucking creative.

Like a living body that adapted and survived.

What was interesting was for the first time, it repelled away from Chuito rather than find him like a magnet. These redneck criminals did not like that Chuito changed his running route.

The third time he ran past a house that was just down the way from the trailer park Chuito had been scoping out, a motherfucker had the gall to flash a shotgun at him while he sat on his porch, dealing as the sun set in the distance.

A fucking shotgun.

Chuito had seen a lot of different firearms in crime, but a shotgun? Not the most user-friendly weapon of choice. Sure, it’d kill a motherfucker dead, but these redneck assholes would still be sliding the chamber back while Chuito was putting holes in them. It wasn’t like he was a fucking deer. He could shoot back, but for some reason that had escaped them.

So he started running strapped.

Even if it chafed like a bitch.