Page 67 of The Slayer
“Do you want to talk ’bout it?”
“Not really.”
“Alaine—”
“Not right now.” Alaine lifted her head to look at Jules. “I need to think. I need time to sort it out in my mind.” She shook her head. “I’m not ready to talk ’bout it. Not yet.”
Jules hesitated, her leg bouncing, as if it went against everything in her not to press for more. “Maybe a second opinion—”
“Jules,” she countered, using the stern voice she’d learned from the woman sitting across from her. “It’s something I have to sort out on my own.”
Jules considered that and then made a sound of defeat. “Okay, darlin’, but I’m here.”
“I know.” Alaine nodded. “And I appreciate that very much.”
Jules stood, giving Alaine one more critical look before a small smile tugged at her lips. “Just so you know, that whole thing with your daddy.” Her smile became wide and pleased. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” Alaine said as she looked back to her desk. “Probably a long time coming.”
“Probably,” Jules agreed.
Alaine groaned and admitted, “God, could my day get any worse?”
She should’ve been careful what she asked for.
One thing she was starting to learn real fast—things could always get worse.
Chapter Nineteen
When Chuito was in Miami, his life revolved around two things—his family and his gang. His loyalty to both was unbending. He would bleed for them. Carve their markings on his body with pride. Do absolutely anything in his power to make sure they were strong and invincible. He would kill a motherfucker in a heartbeat if they threatened either one…without remorse.
Then he moved to Garnet and learned something.
The loyalty that had been ingrained in him didn’t go away just because he had changed locations. He was here for Alaine, but he still needed something to bleed for. He needed a cause. An organization.
Chuito needed a crew.
Unfortunately for him, that crew became the Cuthouse Cellar.
He got to watch it come together.
He was one of the first fighters to bleed on their mats.
His UFC title belts hung on their walls.
He might as well have a Cuthouse Cellar tattoo on his body to add to the collection of other obligations that decorated his skin and reminded him every time he looked in the mirror that he was never going to be one of those pendejos who only had to worry about retirement.
His existence had always been about making sure he contributed to the strength of something bigger than him. His phone had never once stopped ringing with problems from Los Corredores in Miami. Living in Garnet hadn’t separated him from his gang like he wanted it to. Even when he tried to distance himself, somehow he always ended up dealing with problems. Long distance, and until recently, within the limits of the law, but life changed this past year as it always seemed to do right when Chuito started to think it was going his way.
For a short time he’d even considered trying to make it work with Alaine.
He’d started to believe he might deserve it.
Then reality showed up and reminded him that he didn’t.
Chuito was in deep more than ever since he finally found a way to buy Marcos’s way out of gang life when it was either get him out or bury him. Money hadn’t worked, so Chuito had to sell his soul to the Italian mafia instead.
Marcos was still pissed off with him about it, but he was also happy in Miami with his new wife, Katie, a schoolteacher he had picked up in Garnet. Now she taught at Chuito and Marcos’s old high school in Miami and did a decent job of keeping Marcos respectable.
