The Viper (Untamed Hearts #1)(60)

“Marc,” Luis called, and there was fear in his voice because he’d been in on Marcos’s chat with the OGs. He knew Marcos wasn’t pleased with Angel. “Don’t be stupid!”

Marcos had told them he was laying low, and they all had understood.

He hadn’t mentioned he was coming back to end this.

If he had, one of them would have told Chuito.

They really were blindly loyal to him.

Marcos ignored his friend. He ignored the way half the warehouse stopped working and the other half remained blissfully ignorant to the invisible line that had just been drawn in the room. Old gangsters who had seen too much and remembered a time when this gang had been about more than blood and cash, versus the young and naive who still thought Angel was their key to glory.

These people used to be his family.

Half of them still were, and it was for them more than himself that Marcos yanked Angel off the couch where he was sitting, smoking bud with some stupid teenager too young to grow a beard let alone wear ink on his arm.

“?Ay carajo!” Angel shouted and shoved at his chest. “What the f*ck?”

The kid next to him shot up, but Marcos just reached out and shoved him back down to the couch. “Sixteen and blitzed, you think you can take me, cabrón? For him? Are you really stupid enough to try it? Let him fight his own battles for once.”

“Marc—” Angel touched his shoulder, but Marcos knocked his hand off. His dark eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice even as he said, “Come on, let’s talk in my office.”

Marcos got in Angel’s face and said simply, “I’m out.”

“There is no out.” Angel laughed in disbelief and then showed his cards, blatantly, in front of everyone. “Especially for you.”

Yeah, this had all been a game. Some ego trip because the power had gone to Angel’s head. Fuck that. This just proved he’d never really known Marcos. He’d never been his friend. Not really. Either that, or the dumbass had just forgotten what Marcos was capable of when pushed against the wall.

“Yes, there is,” Marcos assured him. “This is it. I’m out, motherf*cker.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, and then he leaned into him and switched to Spanish as he whispered in his ear, “Don’t do this. I don’t want to do what you know I’ll have to do if you’re serious about this.”

“Do it.” Marcos held up his hands as he switched to Spanish too. He looked to the kid on the couch and then turned back to Angel. “Show him what happens if he decides he’s tired of it one day.” The warehouse was dead silent now. Marcos turned around, seeing Luis, Miguel, and Neto standing behind him. Their eyes were wide, but they were there. They had his back even if he didn’t want them to. He turned to Angel and said simply, “Show them all.”

For one brief moment, Angel seemed to pause as if weighing his options. The odds were clearly in his favor. There were many more young people in this room. They had already buried so many of their old crew.

Angel grabbed his .38 from the back of his pants, faster than Marcos expected, considering how bloodshot his eyes were. It wasn’t the first gun Marcos had shoved under his chin, and, like the other times, he couldn’t help but wince at the thought of taking a bullet like that.

So much for being buried like a baller.

“You want me to do it?” Angel growled. “Is this what you want, you stupid *? You want to take a bullet because you’re too f*cking prideful to help out your family?”

“Yup.” Marcos didn’t even close his eyes. “Go for it. I dare you.”

“Don’t do it.” Luis’s voice shook. “Angel, you know you can’t do it. Chuito—” Angel clicked the safety when he said it, and Luis cursed. “?Co?o! Angel, no!”

“Fuck that!” Marcos argued. “Let him do it! Smoke me, motherf*cker! You think you’re so bad, do it!” He grabbed Angel’s hand and slipped his thumb over Angel’s finger on the trigger. “Do it, or I will. I’ll eat my own bullet before I let you use me against my cousin. If this is the only way out, let’s do it together. Let’s show these kids how you treat your family.”

“You are f*cking crazy, Marcos!” Angel shouted at him. “You’re crazy!”

“Chuito will rip you apart,” Neto warned, his voice much more even than Luis’s. “And we never swore loyalty to you, Angel. Not really. We swore it to Chu first.”

“You pull that trigger, and you’re gonna start a war,” Miguel assured him. “We’re not the only OGs who are loyal to Marcos. You think you can take all of us? There’s a lot of gangsters who’ll come out of retirement for this.”

Angel was breathing heavily, much more so than Marcos as the two of them stood there, their hands on a single gun that could end all the pain this world had inflicted on Marcos.

“Move your hand,” Angel whispered and then leaned in closer and said low enough for only Marcos to hear, “Do you really want me to take out all of them?”

Actually, Marcos hadn’t expected quite this level of commitment from his friends. He wasn’t sure what would happen after Angel pulled the trigger, but he didn’t want to risk having company at the graveyard.

He moved his hand, and Angel lowered his gun. He flipped the safety back and slipped the .38 back into his jeans. “Get out of my warehouse, Marcos.”