The Viper (Untamed Hearts #1)(10)

Chapter Four


Miami


This warehouse was, by far, Marcos’s favorite. He was going to be very sad when it was lost to the inevitable police raid, because it was a cool place to hang out. Los Corredores had had it for over three years, and Marcos, always the cynical one, had been mourning its eventual demise for a while now.

The top floors had been converted into bedrooms. Two of the rooms had black lights. One had a foosball table. There was no heat or central air, but they had window units and space heaters. Flat-screen televisions, leather couches, and lots of dark corners.

By eight o’clock Marcos had two rum and Cokes and four different phone numbers in his pocket. Why the hell was he avoiding this anyway? He conveniently forgot the wide-eyed innocence of Katie Foster and her blood on his hands. Instead he danced with Mia Fuentes, who was a new face and his age, when lately the girls had been getting younger and younger at the warehouse. Of course, most of the guys there were younger than him too.

At twenty-six, he should’ve been dead or in prison.

There weren’t many of their old crew left. It was a better reason to leave than the image of Katie Foster the night of the accident, but the rum was doing away with his common sense. Mia had nice curves. Marcos had never liked them too thin, and she had a great ass.

“I’ve heard things about you. They say you’re different.” Mia leaned into him when the music turned soft and sensual. She pressed her lips against the curve of his neck. “Tell me why.”

Marcos laughed, because he knew what she’d heard.

“My mother raised me with manners.” He looked up at the stars as the two of them danced on the flat slab of cement behind the warehouse. “Unlike the rest of these pendejos, I respect women. That’s it.”

Her smile was wide and amused. “You got game.”

“Yeah, sometimes,” he agreed as he returned her smile.

“If you need somewhere to sleep tonight, I could hook you up. I’m staying here now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you?”

“I’ve been helping Angel wash titles for the cars they steal. I got the best room.”

“I heard he’s been getting a lot of luxury cars. I thought he was boosting them for the parts, not selling them as is.” Marcos couldn’t hide his surprise. “How do you wash the titles?”

“Say you buy a Benz that’s totaled in an accident from Gus’s Junkyard. All you have to do is steal one that’s the same make and year. You switch the vin numbers on the cars, get the title on the totaled car changed over to your name, and you got a new, clean car to sell.”

“And you do all that? Get all the paperwork done and make the car legal?” Marcos was seriously impressed, because that sounded like a very complicated job.

“I spend half my time at the DMV,” she told him confidently.

“No wonder you have the nicest room.” Marcos pulled back, silently thinking about that. He’d heard of organizations as elaborate as that, but he hadn’t known Los Corredores had moved past simply stripping the cars for parts. “Does he get good money for them?”

“Yeah, we’re dealing in mainly luxury cars now. We have buyers who ship them overseas.”

“Do the buyers know they’re hot?”

“Yeah, but they don’t give a f*ck. Once they’re out of the country, it doesn’t really matter.”

The paperwork aside, it was delicate business working on a car you wanted to sell rather than strip. Luxury cars were designed to be thief proof. Stealing was one thing, reworking them was another. Not many could pull that off effectively.

“Who does he have switching the vins?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Hopefully you.” Angel gripped Marcos’s shoulder as he walked up. “I’m tired of Luis f*cking them up.”

Marcos turned to him in horror. “You’re letting Luis cut into luxury vehicles?”

Angel shrugged. “He’s the only one who knows where to find the vins.”

As a lover of fine cars, Marcos couldn’t help but wince at the idea of Luis hacking into something shiny and new. He let go of Mia to shake his head at Angel. “Estás del carajo. He’s the worst one to do it. He’s too impatient.”

“So come back.” Angel held up a hand as if it were obvious. His eyes were sharp and calculating, his broad shoulders tense, making it obvious he had been waiting not so patiently for Marcos to get over his fit of morality and come back around. “You can stay here if you want. I bet Mia wouldn’t mind sharing her room. She’s my cousin, you know? She just moved here from the island a few months ago, but she’s smart. Got a college degree and everything. Top shelf. Better than these putas you’re used to.”

Marcos looked to Mia, whose gaze was as calculating as Angel’s.

“What’s in it for you?” he asked Mia curiously, because he didn’t put it past Angel to sell his cousin to the first dick who could help him make more money. “You really wanna share a room with a prick like me for some bodywork?”

“It’s not about the vin numbers. That’s his problem.” Mia’s gaze ran over Marcos slowly. “Like I said, I heard things. They say you’re good at all kinds of bodywork.”