Page 164 of The Slayer
“He’s staying here.” Marcos still sounded really pissed off about it. “Chu—”
“He’s fine. I promise I won’t hurt your kid,” Chuito said as he put Alaine in the car, finally forcing her to see the chaotic sea of armed mafia gunman outside. Alaine looked behind her, but Chuito grabbed her face and met her gaze. “Listen to me, mami. Marc is taking you to my mother’s. She has clothes. Katie is there—” He turned back to his cousin. “Is Katie there?”
Marcos nodded. “Yeah, she’s there.”
“Okay.” Chuito turned back to Alaine, finding that he was fighting tears all of a sudden, in front of his crew, but what did he care. “I love you.”
“I want you to come.” Alaine grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Come back with me. Don’t stay here.Pleasedon’t stay here.”
“You have to go. I’ll meet you there.” He pulled back and looked down the street, because he still didn’t trust that real cops weren’t going to show up. “Get out of here. Get my cousin out. Get my boys out. They need a reason to leave, and you’re a good reason. They’ll keep you safe until I get to you.”
Alaine took a shuddering breath and looked past Chuito to Marcos and the others behind him. “I don’t want to leave you in that house. Please—”
“I’ll repent,” he offered her, because it was all he could think of that might work. It was the one thing she’d asked of him when she thought she was going to die. “Let me take care of this, and I’ll repent for you, but I need to stay.”
Alaine took another deep breath. Her hands were still shaking as she held on to him, but then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “I love you too.”
Chuito kissed her back, cupping her face for one long second he couldn’t afford. She was handling this much better than most women would. He’d underestimated her in that regard, and he planned to make it up to her. It was the only thing he could do.
He certainly couldn’t walk away from her now that she was neck-deep in the mafia bullshit. Nova would need her in.
For life.
If Nova hadn’t before, he did now, because she knew Tino had just caused a Russian apocalypse in that house, and Nova didn’t negotiate when it came to protecting Tino.
“Go.” He pulled away from her. “Get out. Right now. All of you.”
“Is Angel dead?” she asked in concern. “Or was that him I heard—”
“He’s dead,” Marcos answered for Chuito as he opened the driver’s-side door to his truck. “That motherfucker isverydead, chica.” Then he leaned past Alaine and looked at Chuito, who wasn’t letting go of Alaine any more than she was releasing him. He said sharply in Spanish, “You want me to protect her? Let me get her out of here.”
Chuito let Alaine go and stepped back. “I love you,” he repeated and then closed the door before she could respond.
Alaine crumple in the seat, her body shaking with sobs before Marcos was out of the driveway. Chuito watched them disappear down the street and then turned to go back into the house without another word.
“Chu—” Luis called out to him.
“Get out of here.”
Chuito didn’t even turn back. He knew they would listen to him as he walked back into the house. There was something symbolic about closing the door on them, saving his old crew by pushing them away and walking into the house to kill their last connection to crime.
The Italians were all still standing there, their guns in their hands, their suits still nicely creased and unwrinkled, pretty and clean despite the pools of blood and dead bodies.
Cold.
Uncaring.
Looking away from the hushed, quick debate in Italian Nova and Tino were having, likely over the phone, because Chuito noticed Nova had it in his hand now. Whatever Tino was saying seemed to have an effect on Nova, because he turned away after a second and looked to Chuito standing there.
“Everyone get out,” Nova said and then gestured to Junior standing in the corner, now dressed. “Take him with you. Wait for us outside.”
Chuito didn’t pay attention to the Italians leaving. He just pulled out his gun as he stared at the two injured Russians lying on the floor in the middle of the fallen bodies of their brothers.
And Angel, his hands still behind his head while he knelt there, now quiet as he stared at the floor, as if silently praying for some sort of reprieve.
“Okay, motherfuckers,” Tino announced from behind Chuito when the door closed and the last of their crew left them alone with the two Russians and Angel. “We’re gonna play a game of good gangster, bad gangster, and worse gangster. We’ll let you try and figure out which is which. That’ll make it more fun for everyone.” Tino stepped forward and looked down at the Russian he’d shot in the kneecap. “Who’s the informant?”
“I already told you I don’t know who the fucking informant is,” Angel growled before the Russians could answer. His shoulders were shaking, taking some of the fierceness out of his voice. “These pendejos found me. They threatened me. I didn’t have a choice about any of this bullshit.”
