The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(47)

Chuito shrugged. “Walk away and find out.”

The reverend looked from Chuito to Jules, who dug into the box and pulled out an envelope to put his card in. She handed it to the reverend and then yanked the lid to the box back forcefully.

Chuito let out a shaky breath when the reverend reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a checkbook. Then Chuito leaned back against the wall and finished the last of his beer. The reverend didn’t say anything else to them as he wrote out a check.

Instead he strolled into the Cellar like he was gracing them with his presence.

Jules walked over and leaned against the wall once the door closed. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m really not on board with this, Chuito. This infatuation you have with her. She’s naive.”

“I know,” Chuito agreed.

“But I would rather see you give that man a dozen Puerto Rican grandbabies than have her crawl back to him.”

“Catholic, Puerto Rican grandbabies,” he corrected her, since Chuito being Catholic had seemed twice as offensive to the reverend as being Latino.

Jules let out a harsh, broken laugh and turned back to him. “How’d you break into my car? I know it was locked.”

Chuito arched an eyebrow at her.

“You scratched it,” she snapped at him. “My new Benz. You f*cked up the paint by the window. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would’ve freaked out.”

“I’m freaked out that you scratched my car. My new car.” Jules let out a moan and gestured to the parking lot. “It’s brand-new.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said with a laugh. “It’s an easy fix. If I can fix your transmission, you think I can’t take out a few scratches?”

“My gun was in the car,” she growled at him. “It’s registered to me. Do you know what would happen if someone broke into it? My shotgun is in the trunk.”

“Jules, why?” Chuito started laughing, feeling sort of manic in the aftermath of that confrontation. “Why? Why? Jules, why? Why do you have a shotgun in your trunk?”

“To shoot you for scratching my brand-new Benz!”

“Is there a war here?” Chuito countered as he kept laughing. “Is someone gonna attack you? How are you more paranoid than me, mamá?”

“Don’t call me that!” Jules punched him.

“Hijo de la gran puta,” he cursed. “You hit like a man. I suffer more damage from you than I ever have in the octagon.”

Jules punched him again. “He’s gonna ruin her day!”

“If he does, then he does.” Chuito rubbed his arm. “I had to try. I needed to try, ’cause if he doesn’t give her something else—” He threw up his hands. “I’m not that f*cking noble. I’m not noble at all. How do you think I broke into your car? I’m not good, Jules.”

“You’re good.” Jules huffed and stood back, folding her arms over her chest. “How much was in the card?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“You’re good,” Jules repeated. “Too good. I hate that man.”

“He is a pendejo,” Chuito agreed as the Cellar doors burst open.

“Did y’all see who came to the party?” Wyatt said as he walked over to them. “The temperature dropped ’bout twenty degrees when he walked in.”

“Yeah, we noticed.” Jules gave her brother a look. “Hard not to when he’s calling us the devil.”

“You are the devil,” Wyatt teased and then shook his head and chuckled. “He never calls me sheriff. He always calls me Mr. Conner. You know that bastard burns his ballot rather than vote for me.”

Jules laughed with him. “He told Chuito he probably didn’t have a father. He just assumed ’cause he speaks Spanish.”

“That’s not funny,” Wyatt said, but he was still laughing as he reached out and grabbed the back of Chuito’s neck, squeezing tightly. “You’re okay. He hates all of us. He still calls Clay trailer trash. Clay. Biggest fighter in the history of the sport. Trailer trash.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Chuito shrugged, even if the jab about not having a father had struck a nerve, considering in his particular case it was very true. “He’s a dick. I knew he was a dick.”

“Who invited him?” Wyatt asked. “The party was a surprise. How’d he know?”

Chuito looked to Jules, but the door opened before she had to answer. Clay walked out into the open air and took a deep breath, as if praying for patience.

“You okay, buddy?” Wyatt asked, but his voice was choked as if he was trying to swallow down the mirth. “Something upset ya?”

“I think I’m gonna walk my trailer-trash ass to the store and buy ice,” Clay growled.

Wyatt burst out laughing. “It’s like, two miles to the store. You gonna walk? You can’t afford a car? Do you need me to loan ya money for the ice?”

Clay glared at them.

“Clay, don’t leave.” Jules was laughing with her brother. “Come on. Wyatt’s an *. You know he’s an *.”

“I—” Clay pointed back to the Cellar. “That’s my haven. Y’all let him in my haven.”