The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2) (53 page)

“I’m going with you,” Chuito promised him, not sure if it was enough to erase the pain of being torn between two brothers whose worlds were just so far apart. “You didn’t lose two brothers. I’m still here. I’m sitting here next to you, motherfucker.”

“That’s too much,” Tino argued. “I can’t ask you to do that for us. Nova wouldn’t ask it either. This is
our
bullshit.”

“Too bad you don’t get to have a fucking choice in the matter. Your grandfather sorta fucked up my shit today. I figured I earned the right to help you take him out.”

Tino turned and looked at him, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Chuito nodded. “Oh, yeah. We’ll take him out, or we’ll go down together. That’s how a crew works. You know that’s how it works, cabrón.”

Tino leaned over and kissed Chuito’s forehead. Then he broke down right there in front of all the other Italians in his crew. All Chuito could really do was hug him and let him cry on his shoulder hard enough that tears welled in Chuito’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks too, because Tino wasn’t the only one forced to give up more than he wanted.

Tino was drunk off his ass.

Chuito was high as a kite.

It would have to be okay after the day they had, and Chuito was inclined to agree with Tino about it for the moment.

If anyone had a problem with it, fuck them. They could talk to their Berettas if they had an issue, because together the two of them were badass enough to help Nova take down the king of the underworld.

And they both knew it.

Chapter Forty-Six

Chuito rolled over, still fighting the heaviness of sleep and the lingering effects of bud in his system, because he had the memory of smoking with Nova and his mother sometime in the early-morning hours. Rather than think on it too much, he studied Alaine, sprawled out on the bed, her hair glinting almost pink in the sunshine. He caressed her shoulder, rubbed his thumb over a nasty bruise the Russian had left there.

Chuito felt a white-hot surge of anger rush through him and mourned the motherfucker being dead. He got better than he deserved. He should’ve suffered.

Alaine stirred, blinking up at him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and bloodshot. “You okay?”

He nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Just gonna go get some coffee.”

“Mmm.” She snuggled into the covers, her eyes closing once more as she rolled onto her side and went back to sleep.

She had gotten up sometime early in the evening, showing up in the kitchen wearing a pair of shorts and a blue blouse Chuito knew belonged to his mother. Her hair was mussed, her eyes had been bloodshot and still puffy, but she was calmer and looking for food like Chuito had been.

Then the two of them danced for most of the night, because it was their engagement party and the least they could do was enjoy it.

They’d partied their asses off like they weren’t sure about tomorrow.

He watched her for a few more minutes, unable to sort through the rush of feelings. It was probably a good thing the bud was still muting everything a little. He needed more time to get his thoughts together.

Chuito rolled out of bed and found his jeans, because they’d fucked again when they finally crashed back into bed. He forwent underwear in the name of caffeine. He was still pulling up the zipper when he walked out the door, but paused when another door opened.

He looked down the hallway, seeing Nova bare-chested and barefoot, buttoning his jeans like Chuito was. His black hair stood up at odd angles; his eyes were bloodshot, but Nova still mumbled, “
Buenos días
.”

Chuito just gaped at him, the bud and lack of caffeine making anything other than shock impossible. “Buenos días,” he repeated sarcastically. “Have fun last night?”

“Sí.” Nova didn’t even have the good grace to be apologetic about it. He just walked past Chuito and held up a hand when he saw his glare. “Save it. I need coffee first.”

Chuito needed it too.

So badly.

He followed Nova to the kitchen but paused when he got to the living room. Tino was sprawled out on the floor next to the couch, with Junior’s sister sleeping over him, using him like a big Italian pillow. Her friend was on the couch next to them. Her arm hung over the side, her fingers in Tino’s hair as if she couldn’t resist touching him even in sleep.

“I guess chivalry’s not dead after all,” Nova deadpanned as he looked at his brother sleeping on the floor.

“How do you figure?” Chuito gave Nova an incredulous look. “I feel like we’ve just been pillaged by Italian pirates.”

Nova didn’t bother to deny it as he walked to the kitchen. Chuito’s mother had one of those one-cup coffeemaking systems, and Nova made himself at home as he set to work on the quest for caffeine. He dug creamer out of the fridge, even though Chuito knew Nova drank his coffee black.

Nova turned to Chuito expectantly, and Chuito shook his head in response. “Do not ask me how my mother takes her coffee.”

“Fine, I’ll wing it.” Nova kept the first cup for himself and started drinking it as he made the second cup. “On a scale from one to ten, what level of freak-out am I dealing with? In my defense I need to point out that I did smoke more than I should last night, and your mother is easily the hottest Latina I’ve ever met in my life. Those are deciding factors.”

“You fucked my mother.” Chuito held out a hand to the coffeemaker as evidence. “You are so lucky I’m still half-blitzed.”

“Right?” Nova laughed and then took another sip of his coffee. “I dunno where your mother got that shit, but it fucked my ass up.”

“
You fucked my mother
,” Chuito repeated slowly.

“But it was just one time.” Nova blinked at Chuito lazily, betraying the aftereffects of the bud. “That doesn’t count.”

“It counts,” Chuito assured him. “What is it with you Italians? It fucking counts.”

“One time is like shaking hands.”

“No, it’s not. Sticking your dick in someone is not the same as shaking hands.”

“Friends fuck one time,” Nova explained as if it made perfect sense. “It’s not a relationship. It’s a moment. It doesn’t count.”

“You don’t forget things,” Chuito reminded him. “My mother is in your brain forever.”

Nova gave him a wide smile against the rim of the coffee cup. “Yes, she is.”

Chuito shook his head at that. “No.”

“You know how sometimes you meet a genuinely beautiful, sensual woman, and you think she’s gonna be amazing in bed, but it just doesn’t work out. It was all smoke and mirrors.” Nova’s smile grew broader, more devious. “This was
not
one of those times. I need to start seeing older women.”

“Carajo.” Chuito looked away in disgust.

“I should do Miami a favor and buy your mother a Ferrari. A woman like that is made to drive a highline, Italian vehicle.” Nova turned to walk out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee in hand. “And it’s the least I can do. I just found out my grandfather wants to ice me, but I have zero stress this morning. That shit never happens.”

“Buy me a fucking Ferrari!” Chuito shouted at him. “I’m the one who has to look at you and know about this shit!”

Nova raised one of the cups in response.

“Fucking Italians.”

“Why, what’d they do now?” Marcos mumbled in Spanish as he came in through the back door, bare-chested and barefoot, looking as rough as the rest of them.

Chuito gestured to the hallway, and Marcos walked around the corner. He stood there, frowning until a door closed. He glanced back to Chuito and pointed down the hallway with a look of confusion.

“Apparently it doesn’t count,” Chuito explained. “One-night stands are like shaking hands to the Italians.”

“Well, it was just once.” Marcos shrugged off the shock. “And they were both totally fucked-up last night. It happens.”

“You’re not pissed off he fucked your tiá?”

“Man, if I got pissed off at every muchacho my tiá fucked, I’d have to hate half of Miami.”

“Marc—”

“Let me wake up,” Marcos said as he made himself a cup of coffee. “Then maybe I’ll get pissed off with you. I’m hungover.”

“Make me a cup too,” Chuito said as he sat on one of the stools in the kitchen.

Marcos pulled back. “What am I?”

“You’re the motherfucker who’s gonna make me a cup of coffee.”

That apparently worked for Marcos as he gave Chuito an unamused look but pulled down another cup from the cabinet. “At least one of us benefited from getting fucked by the Italians. Hopefully it rocked her world.”

“He said he was gonna buy her a Ferrari.”

“Wow.” Marcos gave Chuito an impressed smile. “Go, Tiá.”

“Really, Marc?” Chuito put his face in his hands, because he didn’t understand his mother and Marc’s relationship any more than he understood anything else about his mother. “What happened to Fernan? I thought she loved him.”

“She dumped him. Dios mio, the phone was ringing for three weeks.” Marcos groaned. “He even called me. Like I have some sort of control over what she does. You know, Chu, you’d be a much happier person if you just let your mother do what she’s going to do. Let her enjoy life without worrying about hearing it from you.”

“Why can’t she settle down?” Chuito mumbled to himself and then gestured to Marcos. “Even you settled down.”

“Men are, without exception, all pendejos. If my tiá is making a habit of using them and tossing them away when she’s done, I’m good with that. At least she used the Italians for once instead of the other way around. I’m glad she fucked him. Score one for the Boricuas.”

Chuito just took the coffee his cousin offered him and drank it despite the burn. The two of them sat there in silence, trying to wake up. The house looked like a bomb went off in it, and they discussed cleaning it.

They drank a second cup of coffee instead.

It was past ten, and everyone else was still sleeping.

One of the bedroom doors finally opened, and Chuito looked down the hallway, expecting Alaine or Nova. He got his mother instead, looking pressed and perfect as usual in an expensive kimono silk robe.

Her eyes weren’t bloodshot like the rest of them, as if she was completely immune to the hardships of life.

“Buenos días,” Marcos said with a grin.

“Buenos días.” She stood on her toes and kissed Marcos’s cheek. Then she made work of straightening his hair. “Dios mio, chico, Katie will leave you if she sees you looking like that.”

“My wife is very happy this morning.” Marcos wagged his eyebrows at her. “Sorta like you. Have a good night?”

“Mmm,” she agreed with a hum and then turned to Chuito, but he dodged her before she could kiss him. “What?”

“I know where your mouth’s been,” Chuito said with a glare.

“Oh, please.” She looked genuinely insulted. “I don’t do that the first time. I didn’t even do it for Fernan, and he had three months to earn it.”

Chuito just rolled his eyes in response, and his mother grabbed him and kissed his cheek before he could pull away.

“Don’t be kissing
him
anytime soon, though,” she added as she walked away.

Marcos laughed and then added, “Why do they kiss each other? That’s so weird to me. It’s not just brothers. It’s associates. They’re in my shop all the time. They all do it. They kiss the other guys in their crew. Can you imagine walking up and kissing Luis’s cheek when he came over? I mean, our people hug. We’re not gringos. We’re affectionate, but the Italians—” He held up a hand to Chuito’s mother. “You see what a handshake is to them.”

“It’s a European thing,” his mother offered as she started to pick up the kitchen.

“They’re not European, though,” Marcos argued. “They’re from New York. They’ve been in this country a long time. I’m telling you, I watch them; it’s part of being in the mafia. They have to kiss each other. In public. Have you kissed them, Chu?”

Chuito held up his hand, because Tino kissed him all the fucking time. Nova did it too. He was sort of immune to it.

“Their people are European. It carries over. It’s not a big deal.” She put a stack of dishes in the sink. “I like Italians.”

Marcos laughed again. “We noticed.”

“They dress so nice. They smell nice,” she went on as she gave Marcos another smile. “They do all sorts of nice things.”

“Mamá, no,” Chuito said with a glare.

She rolled her eyes. “Why are you so uptight? What’s the big deal?”

“He’s in the mafia,” Chuito pointed out. “He
is
the mafia.”

“So?” She frowned at them. “What does that have to do with me?”

Chuito opened his mouth in disbelief and then looked to Marcos, who shrugged at her as if he didn’t know either.

“Really?” Chuito barked at the two of them.

“I’m not going to do it again. It was just for fun,” she said as she walked around the bar to the kitchen and patted Chuito’s shoulder affectionately. “I love you, dito.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said dismissively. “Love me so much you fuck my associates. Next you’ll be in bed with Luis.”

“Ay Dios mio.” She gave Chuito a horrified look. “I practically raised him.”

Chuito held up his hand. “Luis is the same age as Nova. It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. Nova has old eyes. Old soul. Older than mine. They’re sad eyes,” she said as she walked into the living room.

Chuito paused at that, remembering long ago trying to explain that mentality to Alaine. That age did not equal life experience. That numbers meant nothing when they lived the lives they did.

“Look at this. On my couch,” his mother said from the living room.

“Maybe it’s a European thing,” Chuito called out, because he knew what she was bitching about.

“I sit on that couch. This chica didn’t even put a shirt on before she passed out. She’s sleeping on him like he’s stuffed with feathers.”

That got Marcos’s attention. He walked into the living room and was silent until he came back and gave Chuito a disgusted look. “Score two for the Italians,” he mumbled as he picked up his coffee again. “Why are they always ahead?”

Chuito shrugged.

“I was never that young and stupid.
Never
. I would never,” his mother said as she came back into the kitchen with more dishes. “Sharing a man. I need to talk to those girls.”