The Viper (Untamed Hearts #1)(37)

Jules turned around and glared at Tino.

“I’m just saying it’s a good way to handle a family dispute,” Tino said reasonably. “In my experience, violence solves most problems.”

“Really, Tino? You know that ain’t funny.” Jules put her hand on her hip. “I thought you two were going to train. I’ve got the twins downstairs because you had to train tonight, when you knew I worked late, and Romeo has classes. This is my busy season.”

“I’ve had them every night this week. My babysitting services are free.”

“Your rent is free,” she countered.

Tino threw up his hands. “Do you want rent?”

Jules waved him off dismissively and turned to leave. “If you guys have to solve family disputes, use the Cellar to do it.”

“She lets him watch her kids?” Marcos asked Chuito in Spanish.

“They’re his nephews. He’s Jules’s brother-in-law,” Chuito reminded him.

“I already said I understand most of the shit you’re saying,” Tino interrupted them.

“?Hablas espa?ol?” Marcos asked as he got to his feet.

“No, io parlo Italiano.”

“Oh.” Marcos shrugged. “Well, I don’t f*cking understand Italian.”

“I’m from New York, man. You Puerto Rican motherf*ckers are on every corner in my old neighborhood. I grew up understanding Spanish.”

“His brother speaks it. Fluently,” Chuito said it like a warning. “Without an accent. Like he was Boricua. It’s weird as shit.”

“Jules’s husband?”

“No, the other one.” Again it sounded like a caution. “He still lives in New York. He’s Angel on steroids.”

Oh.

He got the message. Somehow Chuito had managed to find some hardcore motherf*ckers to hang with in Hicksville, USA. He should be surprised, but he wasn’t. Like Marcos, trouble usually found Chuito if he wanted it to or not. It didn’t matter where he was, and no amount of levelheadedness could fix it. Some muchachos were just born to live hard.

“So what are you two fighting about?” Tino asked curiously, as if they were there to entertain him.

“Nada,” they said in unison.

“Okay, this has been real.” Tino stood up and tossed his empty drink in the garbage can by the corner. “I’m gonna go hang with the twins.” He hit Chuito’s shoulder as he walked by him. “Before I get old.”

Chuito waved him off. “Five minutes.”

After Tino was out of earshot, Marcos turned to his cousin. “I can’t handle your life, bro. It’s too complicated for me. How is she from a cop family?” He pointed downstairs to Jules. “And that pendejo is mafia. How’s that all work?”

“Yeah, it is pretty complicated.” Chuito nodded, looking back down the stairs. “But Tino, he’s all right. He’s the best friend I got here.”

Marcos gave him a look of disbelief. He didn’t trust the Italians any more than he trusted cops. “What about the gringa?”

“That’s a different thing.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Marcos laughed. “What the f*ck? You blindsided me.”

“You sent me a text about getting shot and then ignored me all day.” Chuito gave him a harsh look.

“I was busy.”

“That is f*cked up,” Chuito growled, his dark eyes still narrowed. “You and my mother are all the family I have left. You think I don’t wake up at night sweating over you still being in deep, and you won’t let me help you. It’s like you want to f*cking die. We’re like brothers, Marc. I don’t understand why you’ll take from Angel instead of me.”

Marcos paused, for one moment putting himself in Chuito’s shoes. He could understand his frustration. If the roles were reversed, he’d do anything to get Chuito out. He’d drain his entire bank account without thinking about it, but that didn’t change the streak of unbending pride Marcos had been born with. He just couldn’t take his cousin’s money. It wasn’t in him.

“I work for the money I get from Angel,” Marcos reminded him.

“Asshole, you strip cars for him!” Chuito yelled in Spanish. “You got off easy the first time because you were young, but you got a record now. The next time you get caught, you’re going down for as long as your father.” He hit Marcos’s elbow. “How many lines do you want on that thing?”

Marcos rubbed at the cobweb tattoo on his elbow that signified how many years he’d served in prison. “It wouldn’t be that long.”

“Bullshit! It takes one raid.” Chuito held his finger up in front of Marcos’s face. “Just one. That’s it. And I know how loaded the warehouse is. The cars will be the least of your problems. That place has got enough drugs in it to keep half of Miami blitzed!”

Marcos snorted. “It does keep half of Miami blitzed.”

“That’s funny to you?” Chuito ran a hand through his hair and yelled despite the clients downstairs. “What the f*ck, Marc!”

“I can’t do anything else.” Marcos spoke very slowly as the fury rolled through him. “No one will hire me. I’ve tried.”

“Move here.”