The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(136)

Then she thought about Chuito’s screams from downstairs, his agony, and knowing that her fake cries for help made it worse for him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, because she couldn’t seem to stop crying.

“You cry, chica,” his mother said softly. “Cry until he gets here; then you can be strong again. Chu needs you to be strong for him.”

So Alaine cried, and Sofia cried with her, because it was obvious she knew even if no one told her that Chuito had stayed back to kill Angel and whoever else had been left after all that gunfire downstairs.

Katie brought food, but Alaine couldn’t eat it, though she should be starving. Sofia tried to urge her to eat, using the excuse of not wasting food, which was exactly what Chuito would have said.

All it did was make her cry harder.

What if he never came back?

What if more Russians showed up?

Even though there had been a truly impressive amount of Italians outside, she didn’t question for one moment how quickly the tables could turn. Today had taught her that if nothing else. That in the blink of an eye, everything could be destroyed in the most horrific way possible.

Then, like a miracle, she heard the house burst to life when before it had been somber and hushed. Car doors opening and closing, rushed Spanish over the boom of the front door being thrown open.

“Is it him?” Alaine asked as she looked to Sofia, who was staring at the door.

Then Chuito’s voice echoed down the hallway before Sofia could answer. “Where is she?”

“Tía Sofia dijo—”

“I don’t care what she said,” Chuito barked just as a fist pounded on the bedroom door. “Open it, Mamá!”

Sofia ran out of the bathroom and threw open the door. She gasped and said, “No!”

“Sí,” Chuito countered.

Then the two of them had an argument in Spanish that made the one Sofia had with Marcos seem like nothing. Chuito sounded like an angry bear, but Sofia didn’t seemed to be fazed by it.

Alaine got the impression that this heated, loud arguing was the way their family communicated. Then Chuito showed up in the bathroom, with Sofia at his back, tugging at his shirt.

“This muchacho gets to stay in here.”

“Pero mírate.” Sofia threw out her hands to Chuito, gesturing to his clothes that were splattered with blood. “No.”

Chuito tugged off his shirt and tossed it at his mother, who picked it up with a grimace, holding it between two fingers as if it were toxic.

“Ay carajo,” Sofia whispered as she stared at Chuito. “What did they do to you?”

Chuito looked down at himself at the same time Alaine did, seeing the red welts covering his chest that were well on their way to becoming bruises. Tears welled up in her eyes when she realized they must have beaten him to keep him from coming upstairs.

“Get out,” Chuito snapped at his mother. “And go find it. I know you have it.”

“But the fighting,” his mother countered.

“Look at me. Look at her. Fuck the fighting.” He gestured to Alaine in the bath. “Get it for me, Mamá. Por favor.”

“Have a drink.”

“It’s one time. Go get it,” he growled at his mother. “Please. I’m begging you.”

“Don’t beg.” She huffed and waved him off as she looked to Alaine. “You see. I told you. Not strong like us.”

“It’s your shit, Mamá. I know it’s in this house,” Chuito said and then went on in Spanish, before he shut the door in his mother’s face.

“What do you want?” Alaine asked in concern as Chuito locked the door. “What are you asking her to get for you?”

“Just bud. She smokes sometimes,” he said as he undid the button to his jeans and tugged them off. “Marcos said he’s worried you’re still in shock. It’ll help. I’m sorry. I know that was a lot of nasty shit to happen in a short amount of time, but we can’t take you to the hospital. Not if we can help it.”

She wanted to argue with him, but there wasn’t enough lavender in the world to keep her hands from shaking. She looked at Chuito’s bruised, battered body and couldn’t help but ask, “Did you kill Angel?”

“I don’t want to talk about Angel.” He opened the door and tossed his jeans and underwear outside; then he locked it again. “I want to go the rest of the day and not talk about it, okay, mami? I just want to forget. I need to forget.”

He crawled into the tub with her, making the water splash over the edge, but neither of them cared. Alaine wrapped her arms and legs around him and just held him as he sank down in the hot water. He put his hands to his eyes, and Alaine saw that they were shaking as he said, “I had to let the Italians come over. They needed an alibi. We’re gonna have to throw a f*cking party to cover for them.”

“Okay,” she whispered as she held him, the two of them shaking in the steamy, soapy water. “We can do this. We’re strong, even stronger together.”

“Jesus, you’ve been talking to my mother,” Chuito groaned as he rested his head in the space between her breasts. “Tino’s in this house. I wanna kill him, mami. I hate him.”

Alaine held him tighter, because she could hear how much just saying those words ripped his heart out. “You don’t hate him.”