The Viper (Untamed Hearts #1)(72)

“’Cause I’m broke.”

Chuito pulled out a bottle of alcohol and unrolled several paper towels. “Move in with my mother. I bought the house because of the apartment out back. You’re supposed to be living in it.”

“And have Angel shoot me there?”

“Angel is not going to shoot you. The Italians are just there until I get everything ironed out. I already said you’re out. You can live anywhere you want.”

“What exactly does ironed out mean?” Marcos asked as he looked at the ceiling. “Like I told your friend, I don’t speak Italian.”

“Does it matter?” Chuito held up the alcohol bottle. “Close your eyes. This may sting.”

Marcos closed his eyes just as the sear of pain stretched from his eyebrow, clear up into his forehead, making the headache he had about a thousand times worse.

“?Co?o! ?Vete pa’l carajo! That hurts, you motherf*cker!” He punched blindly at Chuito’s side, wanting him to share his pain. “?Maldita sea la madre que te parió! Ow!”

Chuito laughed. “I am very scared at the idea of you teaching Katie Spanish.”

“Please stop talking about her.” Marcos groaned and touched the skin above his eyebrow. “It’s like you’re trying to punish me. I’m already miserable.”

“I don’t want you to be miserable, Marc.” Chuito held some gauze to the cut tightly, pressing down hard enough to make Marcos curse again. “I was sort of hoping for the opposite. You really should make the world better. Find a way.”

“Right, I’ll just find a way.” Marcos held up his hands. “I’ve got all the skills necessary to make the world a better place.”

Chuito laughed again. “I have honestly missed you. Very much.”

“Are you gonna cry, chica?”

“Yup, I’m gonna cry.”

Chuito pushed down harder on the cut.

“?Me cago en ná!” Marcos shoved at his hand, and then pushed at his chest for good measure. “I want a real doctor!”

“Too bad. You didn’t want to go to the hospital.” Chuito grabbed Marcos’s hand and put it on the gauze. “Push hard.”

“Yeah, I’ll push hard, cabrón.”

Marcos pushed down hard, hurting himself, as he stared at the ceiling with his good eye and thought about what had happened. The ink was on Chuito’s body. That was permanent. Inflexible. He’d made a deal with the devil.

Marcos knew he couldn’t change it.

“Am I really out?” he whispered.

“You’re really out,” Chuito assured him. “Don’t tell anyone about the Italians. Don’t tell them I’m involved with what’s going down at the warehouse. I don’t want anyone to know right now. No one. Not even my mother.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not telling anyone my cousin is sleeping with the Italians. Especially your mother. I’ll barely be able to look at myself in the mirror after this. I’m certainly not going to look at Tía Sofia and have her know I made you whore yourself out to the mafia.”

“Marc, you didn’t do it. I did.” Chuito sighed as he laid a pair of medical scissors on Marcos’s chest as if he were an operating table. “Didn’t you hear what I said before? I did it. I made the mistakes. You’ve just been paying for them.”

“I got the ink on my arm, Chu,” Marcos argued. “You didn’t make me do it. No one makes me do anything. They probably shot at that house because they thought they’d get two for the price of one. We’ll share the sins. All of them.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Marcos agreed.

Chuito unrolled a piece of white medical tape and then cut a small piece off. “Let me see your eyebrow again.”

Marcos lifted his hand, showing off the cut. “Can you fix it?”

“Yeah.” Chuito nodded as he stared down at it. “I can fix it.”

“You get shit done,” Marcos choked out as he looked up at his cousin and realized just how far Chuito would go to fix something for him. The tears welled up in his eyes, and he closed them to fight it, but it was too late. “Co?o.”

“No, it’s okay.” Chuito grabbed his hand when Marcos tried to cover his face. “You can cry. Real people cry. Only gangsters have to be hard.”

It was a good thing tonight was the first night Marcos wasn’t a gangster anymore. It was amazing Chuito was able to tape the damn cut at all, but he didn’t rush it. He stopped if Marcos needed him to stop, and then he’d start again when he could be still long enough to deal with it. Chuito was patient and did the best possible job he could to make sure Marcos didn’t have too visible of a scar.

And he didn’t cry once the entire time.

He let Marcos cry for him.





Chapter Twenty


Miami


July, 2014

Miami was interesting, because each street was different. They all had their own personalities. The houses too. Different colors. Different sizes. One road would be full of mansions, and then a few blocks over there would be run-down areas.

The divide was bizarre to Katie.

It was one of the richest cities in the United States. It was also one of the poorest. One fourth of all its residents lived below the poverty line. Katie knew that because she’d researched it, but seeing it was different.