Page 135 of The Slayer
“No.” Chuito grabbed Alaine’s other hand, giving Tino a hard glare. “What are you doing?”
“It won’t work without her.” Tino gave Chuito a wide-eyed look as he leaned down and grabbed the phone out of Chuito’s hand. “Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” Chuito whispered, tightening his hold on Alaine’s other hand, but Tino was already pulling her away. “Motherfucker, no. NO!” He was forced to let go when people started looking at them, and he turned his head, putting his hand by his face, and growled, “Te voy a matar, te lo juro. I will kill you deader than a fucking doornail, Tino.”
“I got this.” Tino yanked Alaine to him and draped his arm over her shoulders. “Follow my lead.”
Chuito’s pulse was throbbing in his ears as Tino walked up to the front of the club like he owned the place, draped all over Alaine like she belonged to him.
Chuito wasn’t even sure how or why this was happening.
Why was he watching Tino walk up to Angel like it was nothing?
With Alaine.
But Chuito was stuck. He couldn’t just run up and pull her back, because that could start a fucking gang war right here in the middle of the street, and he couldn’t risk Alaine getting caught in the cross fire.
Chuito slipped his hand to his back and grasped the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. He turned away but kept looking out of the corner of his eye as Tino laughed and leaned into Alaine, saying loud enough for everyone to hear, “Oh my God, baby, you are so hot. I can’t wait to feel you move against me.” He lifted his head, looking to one of the Russians, and said, “She’s hot, right? My woman.”
The Russian just stared at him, his gaze icy and unimpressed. He said something to Tino and gestured down the street, probably telling him to move on.
“What, jealous?” Tino laughed again and homed in on Angel. He pointed at his chest. “What is this? Like an advertisement? What sort of motherfucker has to advertise?”
Angel rolled his eyes and turned to say something to one of his crew. Chuito couldn’t hear them, because it would take a special skill to be as loud as Tino, but it looked like he said, “Italianos.”
“Oh fuck.” Tino stepped back, doing a very good job of appearing drunk as he grabbed his jacket. “Shit, baby.” He turned and looked at Alaine. “Did I lock the Ferrari?”
“I dunno.” Alaine was unnaturally pale, but no one seemed to notice she was scared to death as she offered, “Maybe.”
“We should go check,” Tino said to her. “Let’s go check. Then we’ll dance.”
Tino started dragging Alaine back toward Chuito, which seemed like a bad idea, especially when Angel exchanged a look with his crew, all their eyes wide with disbelief that Tino had just announced he had a Ferrari.
A Ferrari was the unstealable car.
Every car thief wanted a crack at one.
And Tino knew it.
Their gazes followed Tino and Alaine when they walked past the cigar bar, but no one was looking at Chuito. They were watching Tino like hawks, as if he had a winning lottery ticket in his back pocket.
After Tino and Alaine rounded the corner, Chuito wasn’t surprised when Angel tilted his head in their direction, and two of his crew broke away. Then Angel went back to talking to the Russians, gesturing to the club as if inviting them in.
Chuito didn’t wait to see if they went in.
He grabbed the briefcase and followed after the kids who trailed Tino and Alaine, praying the whole time that he wasn’t going to have to kill these two motherfuckers.
Because he would.
In a heartbeat.
Tino could take care of himself, but if they tried to hurt Alaine, Chuito would kill them, and he probably wouldn’t feel bad about it.
Even if they were young.
He rounded the corner, seeing Tino in the parking lot with Alaine, doing very slow work of pulling a briefcase out of the trunk. A briefcase like the one Chuito had, which meant it probably had a fuckload of cash in it.
No wonder Nova wanted Tino out.
