Page 27 of Hot Shot

“Did you grow up here in San Diego?”

“No. Los Angeles. East L.A.”

“Ah. Is your family still there?”

“No.” He shakes his head and drops his gaze to his hands clasped between his knees. “My parents came here without papers. They were deported when I was fourteen.”

“Oh no.” My chest tightens.

“Yeah.” He looks up with a twisted smile. “It happens. My sister and I were born here. My parents tried for years to become legal, wasting money on scammers they thought were lawyers but who were just taking their hard-earned cash. We always lived in fear that they would be deported. And then one day it happened. Alejandra and I got home from school and the house was empty. One of our neighbors told us that immigration officers had taken them away.”

“Oh dear God.” I cover my mouth with my hands. My niece is fourteen. I imagine Julia walking into an empty house, her parents gone forever, leaving her all alone. My stomach knots at the thought of a young Marco going through that. “That’s terrible.”

“Well, there are some who have a different perspective on that. Some who think all undocumented migrants should be sent back.” He shrugs. “But yeah, for us it was the end of our stable family life. My sister and I went into the system, sent to separate foster homes. I ended up losing touch with her.”

“Oh no.” I really am at a loss for words at this heartbreaking story. I swallow, swamped with unusually soft feelings for Marco. But the look on his face—a don’t-fucking-pity-me look—stops me from doing or saying something embarrassing.

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, apparently reading my expression. “It was years and years ago. My life turned out pretty great, all things considered.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, it did.” I hesitate. “What about your parents?”

“I tried to keep in touch with them. They were both killed in a shooting when I was about nineteen. Just after I got into the Navy.”

“I’m sure they were proud of you for that.”

“Yeah.” He gives a curt nod. “They were. Well. I guess that’s enough Spanish for tonight. You have a good ear for it.”

“Thanks.”

I’m filled with a hunger to know more about him, to know what happened after his parents left and how he grew up without them, how he felt about losing touch with his sister, how he’d decided to go into the Navy . . . but I clamp down on all those questions as he moves to leave.

7

MARCO

I’m not sure how our all-balls brotherhood of three has turned into a group of five, and two of the five are women—Hayden and Carrie.

Our adventure outing this week is Thursday night, where we managed to schedule an evening off from the bar for all three of us. But instead of doing something adrenaline-spiking, we’re going to a trampoline park.

We’re actually going to bounce up and down on trampolines.

Beck wanted to do something fun, but it can’t be too crazy because we have to include Hayden, and she insisted Carrie come, so this is the plan. Cade doesn’t seem too bothered by it, and I don’t want to be the one to harsh the fun, so I’m going along with it too, even though I’m unenthusiastic about a) trampoline jumping and b) seeing Carrie again.

Okay I’m bullshitting myself, because seeing Carrie again makes my blood race like we’re planning zip-lining or base jumping. I’m just annoyed, because at her place when I tried to kiss her and pick up where we left off, she rejected me.

Her loss.

We all arrived at Fly Zone in two vehicles, Cade and I in Cade’s SUV, and Beck, Hayden, and Carrie in Beck’s Jag. After greeting in the parking lot, we walk into the building. I follow Carrie and find myself staring at her ass in a pair of snug black yoga pants that end just below her knees. She does have a world-class ass, no doubt about it, and those long, shapely legs are damn near perfection.

Fuck. I cannot be looking at her like this.

Much as I told myself it was her loss last week, I felt a sting of rejection that pissed me off. That’s where I need to keep my mind . . . angry, not staring at her ass.

Inside, I look around at the brightly painted walls, the concession area and seats, the cubbies where we’ll leave our shoes. Once we’re all checked in with waivers signed, we head to the trampoline area.

It’s bigger than I expected and not what I imagined—the space is filled with trampolines all joined with padded areas and places for different activities. I watch two teenage boys jumping off a raised area onto the trampoline, trying to outdo each other with the flips and spins they do in the air. At the far side are basketball nets, and there’s also a pit full of foam cubes into which people throw themselves with abandon.

Huh. This actually looks pretty fun.

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