The Viper (Untamed Hearts #1)(12)

Chuito was quiet again, before he whispered, “I told you I’d give you money.”

Marcos coughed and cursed in Spanish before he added, “Kiss my ass.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m trying to get there,” Marcos confirmed. “And I’m working on something.” He winked at Mia, even if his stomach lurched when he did it. He wasn’t near drunk enough for this, but he knew now this was as good as life was going to get. No pretty, sweet girls like Katie and no honest jobs. He might as well just accept his destiny. “Can you get to the point?”

“Hijo de la gran puta!” Chuito sounded more than little irritated when Mia’s giggle reached his ears. “This is what got you into all this trouble to begin with. I dunno what you said to that poor chica, Katie Foster, but she’s been bugging the f*ck out of me for your number.”

He raised his eyebrows, wondering for just a moment if destiny was trying to send him a different message, and held up his glass to Mia. “Un momento.”

Marcos walked over to the junkyard behind the warehouse. He looked at the hollowed-out bodies of long-dead cars and whispered into the phone, “Tell me.”

“You tell me what party first.” Chuito switched to Spanish, making it obvious he was somewhere public. Probably the Cellar. He always worked out at night. Life before moving to Garnet had made him a night owl. Car thieves didn’t do mornings.

“I’m at the warehouse,” Marcos admitted, also speaking Spanish.

“Is Angel there?”

“Yeah, I was talking up his cousin before you decided to ruin my night.”

“You’re going to f*ck Angel’s cousin? What the hell?”

“Consider it a fringe benefit. I’m going to end up working here anyway.”

“I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Marcos cut him off before he could start in with a lecture. “I lost my job because the heat’s been shaking down Sebastian’s since I started. Fighting and auto body are the only two things I know in life, and I can’t get an honest job doing either of them. What the f*ck do you want from me? I tried.”

“I want you to try harder.”

“Yeah, you f*cking try.” Marcos took another drink of the rum and coke, allowing the burn of it to fuel his anger. “Angel told me you got him front-row tickets for the fight. You didn’t even get me front-row tickets, motherf*cker.”

“I didn’t give him those tickets.” Chuito sounded disgusted. “He must’ve bought them.”

Marcos winced, knowing that was a sensitive subject. No one wanted to untangle themselves from Los Corredores more than Chuito. He’d even moved to the bumf*ck, backward town of Garnet trying to get away.

It hadn’t worked out so well.

“Do you want front-row tickets?” Chuito sounded slightly abashed, as if realizing just then he was in no position to give Marcos shit when he was in deep too. “I didn’t think to ask, but—”

“Just tell me about the gringa.” Marcos took another drink. “Why does she want my number? Did you tell her I’m broke? If she thinks suing me will get her anything—”

“I thought that’s what she wanted at first,” Chuito started, making it obvious he was as suspicious as Marcos. “But I don’t think that’s it. She’s been wearing your jacket around town, and today I heard her tell Jules she’s been putting out messages to you on craigslist.”

“What kind of messages?” Marcos pulled his earphones out of his pocket. “Hold on, let me check it out.”

He plugged in his earphones, letting him look at his phone and talk to Chuito at the same time. He typed in craigslist on the search engine and waited for it to pull up.

“What did you two talk about that night?” Chuito asked, clearly trying to fill in the silence.

“I don’t remember,” Marcos lied, because he had relieved every moment of that night a million times in his head. He was still looking at his phone, now paging through the dozens of categories on craigslist. “Where do you think she would put the message?”

“Do I know?”

“She didn’t say?”

“No, she just told Jules she’s been posting messages on craigslist, and every weirdo in Miami has been messaging her. That’s got to mean personals or something, right?”

Marcos went to the personals. He was silent for a long while, and Chuito just let him search. His eyes got wide as he looked through them. “Have you seen the shit on here?”

“What did you say to her that night? Really. Try and remember.”

Marcos sighed, his gaze still on his phone, but he tried to sum up the conversation for his cousin. “I said sorry for running into her. She told me it wasn’t my fault. I told her I was probably getting a DUI. I thought it’d make her feel better knowing I was going to get screwed too, but she told me to leave. As if that would get me off. I’d already called 911. I was just keeping her company. It’s not like I was talking her up or anything.”

“Then I don’t get it.”

“What kind of messages do you think she’s posting to me? This can’t be the right place. Is there another section?” Marcos was having a very hard time wrapping his mind around the idea of a woman like Katie Foster being interested in him for anything more than maybe paying him to do work on her car. “It’s got to be money. She knows you’re rich. She probably thinks you’ll pay her off if she tries to sue.”