Page 172 of The Slayer
“Isn’t he Nova’s boss?” Alaine asked fearfully.
“Yup.”
“What happens if he dies?”
“Nova takes over.”
“Takes over what?” she asked.
“Everything.” Chuito turned and looked at her, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “I think he’s been playing to win from the beginning. He plans to own the underworld, and I think he might actually succeed at it.”
“Do you trust Nova?” Alaine asked in concern.
Chuito was quiet for a long time before he whispered, “Yeah, I think I do. He scares the shit out of me, but I’d still rather be on his side than against him. He’s too fucking smart. Too cunning. Now me and Tino are the only ones who know the old man wants to take him out. That makes us the only ones Nova has to rely on to end this. Even if he doesn’t want to, he’ll need us to win, and Nova always plays to win. It’s all he knows how to do.”
“What happens if Nova wins?” Alaine asked, feeling the full gravity of that hit her square in the chest.
“We’ll have the most powerful mafia boss in the world indebted to us forever,” Chuito said with a bitter laugh. “We become gods.”
“And if he loses?”
“It’d make that house look like nothing.”
“And if we run?”
“We don’t run.” Chuito shook his head as he said it, some of the broken, hurt anger in his voice being replaced with a cold determination that was unbending. “I play to win too, mami. Always.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The conversation in the bath didn’t do a lot to calm Alaine down, but she tried very hard not to let Chuito see how shaken up she still was after they’d washed up and got out. He noticed anyway, just like she noticed the lavender hadn’t cooled him off either.
Alaine couldn’t help but think the marketing on the calming effects of lavender was a huge lie.
Outside the bathroom door were clothes for Chuito that fit him perfectly. He was bigger than his cousin, so she suspected they were his that he had left there during a previous visit. His mother had left a pretty, paisley-designed robe for Alaine on top of another stack of clothes for her. She slipped it on while Chuito swooped up a small wooden box that had been resting on top of the clothes.
She grabbed her spare change of clothes, knowing she might need them with a party going on.
He grabbed her hand and said, “Come on. Let’s get out of this room.”
“What’s wrong with this room?” Alaine asked as Chuito opened the door. She was stunned at just how many people were in the house as she peered down the hallway. Not just Italians, because she could hear the Spanish over the Latin music playing from outside. She gaped as Chuito tugged her hand. “Where did they all come from?”
“When my mother throws a party”—Chuito turned back and rolled his eyes—“everyone seems to show up.”
“Your mother’s very beautiful,” Alaine said as Chuito opened the door to another room. This one was masculine and warm, with a cherry-wood sleigh bed and a beautiful, dark blue comforter. It didn’t look like anything Chuito would pick out, but there were posters of him everywhere. “Is this your room?”
“This is the room my mother made up for me that I sleep in when I’m here,” he corrected her.
“It’s lovely.”
“Yeah, according to the credit card bills, it should be. My mother likes to decorate.” Chuito locked the door and then tossed the wooden box on the bed. “Most of my life, she refused to take anything from anyone, including me. But now, coño, I know it’s her way of showing me she’s proud of me. Letting me spend money like water, like she knows it won’t disappear. Every time I get a credit card bill, it’s like she’s reaching across the country, telling me she has faith in me. Life’s been unkind to her, so it’s a good thing, but still.”
“She’s sweet,” Alaine pointed out as she set the clothes on a chair in the corner. “And she loves you very much.”
Chuito paused at that and then looked to Alaine. “Yeah, I know. Maybe she shouldn’t. Just like you shouldn’t.”
“I hope you don’t say that to her,” Alaine whispered as tears welled up in her eyes, and she walked back over to him. “It probably hurts her to hear it as much as it hurts me.”
“Why, mami?” Chuito snorted. “Look at where it got you.”
