The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(35)

Chapter Fourteen


Las Vegas, Nevada

March 2011

Chuito had eighty-seven missed calls when he finally got a moment in the locker room. The noise was still crazy, but he managed to pull away when Wyatt started running his mouth with a postfight breakdown.

Those cameras just f*cking loved Wyatt, with his hickisms, big mouth, and bigger ego. Chuito left him to it and stood in a corner, looking at the phone in his hand when it started ringing again.

He picked it up with a grin and held it to his ear, wincing even before the shout reached him, because he knew it was coming.

“WEEEEEEEEEEEEPA!”

“Ay, Marc.” Chuito groaned, though he was still grinning. “I got a headache.”

“Weeepa!” Marcos shouted in response, because the noise was deafening on his end too. “Suck it up, chica! Suck it up and let me scream at you! My cousin just became a world f*cking champion!”

Chuito laughed when the entire room erupted in chaos along with Marcos, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about where I am. Talk to your mother.”

Chuito lowered his head, because he knew where his mother and Marcos had gone to watch the fight, and it wasn’t at a bar.

“Que emoción,” his mother said in a singsong voice. “I’m proud of you.”

“Wow.” Chuito raised his eyebrows at that, because he didn’t hear it too often in his life. “Proud enough to let me buy you a house?”

“That proud,” she agreed, and he could hear the smile in her voice before she got louder, making it obvious she was talking to others instead of him. “My nene is gonna buy me a house!” The entire room screamed again, as if every gangster in that room knew just what a feat that was for Chuito to achieve. His mother was laughing as she said to him, “A big house with nice furniture and a nice car and nice clothes.”

“All that?” Chuito was sort of impressed with himself. “All I had to do was almost get my ass kicked on national television.”

“Almost,” she agreed. “Next time. First round. I don’t like watching that, chico. Took too long.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged before he had to ask, “Why the warehouse?”

“Big television,” she said dismissively. “Your friends wanted me to come. Marcos was working. Easier to meet him here. Talk to Angel.”

Chuito scowled, not missing that his cousin was working at the warehouse again despite promising that he would try to stay straight now that he was out of prison. No one chopped cars better than Marcos, and Angel had obviously made him an offer he couldn’t turn down.

“Cabrón,” Angel said as he took the phone. “You motherf*cker. Forgot to mention Los Corredores.”

“I gave it up for my bros in Miami.” Chuito couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “You know Marc’s on parole. If you get raided—”

“What am I?” Angel barked at him. “I got it, bro. I got your cousin’s back, just like you got our back. Next time, you gonna give it up for Los Corredores? We made you. Don’t forget that.”

Chuito narrowed his eyes, hearing a thinly veiled threat. “I gave you that crew. You didn’t make me, motherf*cker. I made you,” he reminded him harshly. “Best not to forget that.”

“What are you going to do?” Angel laughed. “You’re a big star now. You think you’re going to come back and get in the trenches with us? You’re too famous for that. Leave the business to the businessmen.”

“You’re a f*cking businessman now?”

“Yeah, I make four times what we did when you were running it,” Angel said proudly. “I’m coming to the next fight. Front row. So you don’t forget to give it up for the motherf*ckers who made you.”

“Mmm,” Chuito hummed as he smiled the hard, mean smile of his youth. “You do that, Angel. Buy out the whole front row. Your money won’t be the first dirty green I put in my pocket. Doesn’t bother me one f*cking bit.”

“Give me this.” Marcos yanked the phone back as if sensing the battle of wills. Then he said to Chuito, “Don’t ruin my day, man. My cousin just became a world champion.”

“Yeah, he did.” Chuito couldn’t hide the pain in his voice. “He’d probably set you up for life if you’d let him.”

“Too bad I won’t let him.” Marcos snorted as if the idea was ridiculous. “Buy your mother a house. A big house.”

“With lots of nice furniture!” Chuito’s mother shouted from the background.

“And a car.” Marcos sounded genuinely pleased at the idea. “My tiá doesn’t take handouts easily. That’s a f*cking privilege.”

“It is,” Chuito agreed. “I wonder how many belts I’d have to win before my cousin would let me do it for him.”

“A lot more than one.” Marcos laughed. “You keep working at it. Beat down a lot more motherf*ckers, and then we’ll discuss it. Represent.”

“We’ll see.”

“Weeepa!” Marcos shouted into the phone, as if it were physically impossible for him to be upset about the rest of the bullshit. “Say it!”

“I already said it.”