Untamed Hearts 1: The Viper (16 page)

“You hate it here, don’t you?” she asked curiously as she looked into his world, finding it miles apart from hers. “In Garnet, I mean. You hate this town.”

“I like you.” He squeezed her arm with his free hand. “I like my cousin when he’s not being a hijo de la gran puta. The rest of this town can fuck itself.”

“You would never move here, would you?”

“No,” he said without hesitating. “I couldn’t live here.”

“What if you got a fighting spot at the Cellar?”

“I
can’t
get a fighting spot at the Cellar.”

“But what if you did?” Katie pressed.

“I can’t, Katie. I have a record. They don’t want me.”

“That seems unfair,” Katie pressed, because it irritated her. Jules’s husband had a record, and he’d done just fine. “Romeo Wellings has a record. He was a fighter.”

“Well, he’s screwing the boss. Maybe if I went down on Jules Wellings, she’d change her mind.”

“Do you want to go down on Jules Wellings?”

“Ay Dios mio, no. I hate that bitch. I wouldn’t do it for all the green in the world.”

“Romeo was a fighter
before
he was screwing the boss,” Katie mused, because it all seemed so unfair. “The record didn’t hurt him.”

“Not with mafia ties, no.” Marcos seemed to agree about the unfairness. “His brother probably bought him that UFC contract.”

“I’m sure Romeo isn’t involved in the mafia.”

“You keep believing that.”

“The mafia nearly killed Jules and Romeo. Why would he want to be associated with them?”

“There’s different mafia just like there’s different gangs. Gangsters shot at my house, remember? That doesn’t change the fact that I’m still one.”

“You really think of yourself as a gangster?” The word felt strange on her tongue.

“Sí.”

Yes. Just one word, without hesitation.

That was very curious, considering all the pain it had brought him, and she couldn’t help but say, “I don’t understand.”

“I know, cariño.” He tossed his phone on the nightstand and then rolled into Katie. He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tight as he pressed a kiss to the soft spot on the curve of her neck. “You’re not supposed to understand.”

She threaded her fingers with his, and then studied their hands molded together. His tanned, work-roughened palm against her smooth, pale one. There was nothing in the world that should allow them to be there, companionable and peaceful in her bed.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted softly.

Marcos was silent rather than respond, and Katie was trying very hard not to let her feelings get hurt. She had no business getting as attached to him as she was. Everything in her wanted to try to find some way to hold him here, away from his other life, but she knew Marcos wasn’t a man to be controlled like that.

Her phone beeped on the other nightstand, and she reached out to grab it. She looked at the screen, seeing it was another message from Grayson.

Why are you ignoring me? I’m concerned for you, Katie girl. Tell me you’re okay, or I’m coming over there.

Katie didn’t doubt his threat and was thinking of a response when Marcos ripped her phone out of her hand.

“What are you doing?”

He rolled onto his side when she tried to grab it back, using his shoulder to block her. She crawled over him, trying to reach for the phone when she saw him typing, but she didn’t actually get the phone until he let her have it.

She fell onto her back and read the message Marcos had typed.

Fuck off.

She winced. “I would never type anything like that, Marcos.”

“You should type something like that. He thinks he still owns you.” He took her phone from her and flipped off the ringer before tossing it on the nightstand. “You want me to fix that problem before I leave? I’ll do it.
Gladly
.”

She eyed her phone, unsure how she felt about Marcos talking for her. “How come you’re so bossy?”

“You know you like it, chica.” Marcos sounded completely unapologetic as he buried his face against her neck. “Do you still want him? You miss sex on a towel with that little prick?”

“No,” she said without hesitation as she sat there wrapped up in Marcos’s arms and glaring at her phone. “But I can handle my own issues.”

“Obviously not.”

She just yawned in defeat rather than argue, knowing she wasn’t going to change him. She didn’t really want to, even though she thought she had enough of controlling men to last her a lifetime. She supposed the difference was, Marcos was controlling, but he always seemed to have good intentions. Grayson was completely self-serving.

He tugged on a strand of her hair and whispered in her ear, “Sleep.”

And damn if she didn’t listen to him.

* * * *

Katie had a real quiet way of sleeping. Peaceful. No snoring. No nightmares. Just soft little puffs of breath that hit Marcos’s arm while he held her and looked at his phone, trying to will away the storm of adrenaline the fight with Chuito had caused.

If he was going to be here a whole week, he was going to have to work out. There wasn’t enough sex in the world to shake off this much furious energy.

Maybe they should just take Jules Wellings’s suggestion and beat the shit out of each other in the cage at the Cellar. Marcos still fought in the underground circuit at home under the name Viper. He wasn’t a UFC champion, but it had also been a very long time since Chuito had fought underground. The rules weren’t there to protect you in the matches Marcos fought in, as he’d proved today when Chuito tried to make the drop on him.

Of course, Marcos still had his ass handed to him.

As if he didn’t have enough problems, Angel had been texting him. A lot of Los Corredores had been trying to get ahold of him. Everyone wanted to know where he was, considering he’d showed up at the warehouse and then disappeared off the face of the earth. He’d been ignoring them until the last text popped up as he held a sleeping Katie.

Stopped by your tía’s today. She said you’re visiting Chuito. Why didn’t you just tell us, bro?

Marcos stiffened, reading the text again as his pulse pounded in his ears. Angel went to his Aunt Sofia’s house. He read that as a thinly veiled threat, and it made him more than a little apprehensive.

He should have never agreed to a week with Katie.

Hell, he shouldn’t have left Miami to begin with.

He got the impression that he was being sent a message. He grew up with Angel. It was hard to imagine Angel actually taking out a hit on Marcos’s aunt, but he also didn’t trust him anymore. The possibility was there, and Marcos was a very long drive away. He was tempted to call Chuito despite the fight, because his pull in Los Corredores had always been much stronger than Marcos’s, who never had any inclination to be a leader. His cousin, on the other hand, had been running Los Corredores before he took off to Garnet and turned the job over to Angel. Most of the OGs, original gangsters, still had loyalty to Chuito first, especially now that he was killing it in the UFC.

His cousin was practically a god to Los Corredores, and Marcos was starting to suspect Angel hated that. That was why he was always buying out tickets to the fights, putting himself in Chuito’s face and reminding him that he still had power over him. Making it seem as if Chuito was somehow in that cage for his entertainment.

Marcos was starting to feel like a pawn too—another way for Angel to remind Chuito he was in charge now. He could put up with a lot of shit, but being a pawn against his cousin wasn’t one of them. He’d take himself out before he let that happen.

He slipped his arm out from under Katie, watching as she rolled toward him, as if unconsciously seeking him out when he pulled away. He waited until she settled on her back, and studied her for a second before he let himself out of the bedroom. He found his jeans by the couch and pulled them on.

He needed to get outside. To see the stars and clear his head. He grabbed Katie’s keys off the table and put on his shoes. He walked out the door shirtless, and the cold night air smacked him in the face.

“¡Me cago en ná!” he cursed as he locked her front door. “Spring break, my ass.”

He had parked his truck in the garage, because he didn’t want Katie’s neighbors to see it in her driveway. The garage was off from the main house and had a back door that Katie left open.

Of course she did.

He rolled his eyes as he got into the cab of his truck and grabbed his jacket that he’d tossed back there. He slipped it on and then walked down the street. There weren’t many houses on the block, but he decided to keep his voice low when he called Angel. People here would probably call the cops on his ass just for walking and talking on the phone.

Angel answered on the second ring. “¿Hola?”

“Who told you it was okay to go to my aunt’s house?” Marcos growled in Spanish.

“Hey, bro, take it easy. Paranoid much? Sofia was happy to see me. It’d been too long. I need to visit her more often.”

Marcos stopped walking. He hadn’t been wrong.

It
was
a threat.

“You don’t get to say her name,” Marcos warned him.

“Always so confrontational, Marc.” Angel sighed. “It’s getting old.”

He should have called Chuito, because his cousin was much better at this kind of bullshit. Marcos couldn’t play the game. He wasn’t able to move the chess pieces on the board like Chuito. All Marcos was inclined to do was shoot first and ask questions later.

“What’s the deal, Angel?” Marcos asked when he accepted Angel was really doing this. “Why are you fucking with me?”

“I thought we had a deal. I have work here for you.”

Marcos took a deep breath, forcing down the fury rolling under the surface. “I had things to do here first. I was just wrapping them up.”

“The gringa? Katie whatever.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, because he heard another veiled threat, and he couldn’t hold back his fury this time. “You don’t get to say her name either.”

Angel laughed, sounding more than a little amused at Marcos’s expense. “Mia told me about her. She said that’s where you went. She’s not too happy with you.”

“I don’t give a shit what your cousin thinks about it.”

“Always after the pussy, right, Marc?” Angel laughed again. “You never change. Whatever. Fuck the gringa if you have to. Be back next week.”

“Stay away from my aunt. I swear to God, Angel, if you talk to her again—”

“We’re brothers,” Angel reminded him, his voice suddenly harsh. “Best not to forget that. I’m being nice because we go way back, and I know how you are. You’re the only one I’d be this
understanding
with.”

“I don’t come back next week, then what?”

“You should come back,” Angel said rather than answer the real question. “Your brothers miss you.”

“I’m an OG. I’ve bled for Los Corredores more than anyone,” Marcos reminded him. “I did my time. I don’t
have
to work for you anymore. I’ve done it by choice since I got out.”

“Come back,” Angel repeated rather than argue. “No worries. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I’m fair, Marc. It’ll be good business for both of us. What? You think you can make it somewhere else? You bring the heat down on any place you try to work. Stop fighting it. It’s either that, or go crawling to Chuito instead. We both know that’s not your style.”

Marcos was breathing heavily. He wished he was in the same room with Angel so he could slam his fist into his face and tell him what he really thought about the situation. This wasn’t about needing money any more. Angel thought he owned Marcos. That wasn’t going to work at all.

No one owned him.

He managed to make it through a lot of years in Los Corredores without being controlled. He would strip cars if he needed the cash. Hell, he would even take the fall rather than sell them out, but everyone knew Marcos didn’t follow the rules like the others. Try to control him, and Marcos was going to fight back with everything in him.

Rules had never been his friend.

And Angel knew that.

“I’ll be back next week.” Marcos’s voice was ice-cold even to his own ears.

“Good.” Angel sounded pleased, as if he didn’t hear the threat. Maybe the power really had blinded him. It was Marcos and Chuito and their thirst for vengeance that earned Los Corredores the rep Angel had been riding off of all this time, but he must have forgotten as he said, “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page. Say hi to your chica for me.”

He hung up before Marcos could respond.

“¡Coño!” Marcos screamed at his phone, and then walked over and kicked a boulder in Katie’s neighbor’s yard. The pain radiated up his foot, and he shouted, “¡Hijo de la gran puta!
¡Chúpame el bicho!
”

He threw his phone into the grass and then really let loose with a stream of colorful words. The only comfort was Katie’s neighbors wouldn’t understand him, but then he saw a front light come on. He went to search for his phone and found it resting in the wet grass.

Angry or not, now he
had
to call his cousin.

He stared at his phone, seeing that he’d cracked the screen. It just pissed him off more, and he pocketed it, deciding he needed a little more time to cool off before he talked to Chuito.

He limped back to Katie’s, still fuming.

This was probably karma for giving Chuito shit about the extra ink.

If he were in Miami right now, he’d be adding ink to his own arm.

He was going to kill Angel.

With his bare hands.

Who did he think he was?

Chuito
let him
take over.

Marcos hadn’t realized until right then how much he’d enjoyed elite status in Los Corredores, but what the fuck? He’d lost his soul earning Los Corredores’s hard rep. He deserved a little elite status for that shit.

He stopped when he rounded the corner to Katie’s, seeing a shadow by her front door. Then it opened, shining light into the darkness as a man walked right into her house like he owned the place.

This was what he got for being in Garnet and letting his guard down at every turn. His gun was
still
in his truck.