The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2) (17 page)

“Jules,” Alaine whispered as she stared at the woman who was so much more than her boss. “Do you know how amazing you are? Do you know what you did for me? What you do for so many people?”

“About that,” Jules whispered as she took Alaine’s purse from her and looked through it, finding the envelope from Chuito. “What is this?” She picked it up and frowned at it. “You know, Alaine, you shouldn’t let him call you that. I think that’s like, ah, a flirting thing in Spanish.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Alaine took the card back, holding on to it like a lifeline. “It’s okay. He’s sweet.”

“Focus on law school.” Jules sounded just like the mother she claimed she wasn’t. “Finish. Then, if he’s still what you want. Maybe.” She waved Alaine forward and wiped at her face with one of her makeup wipes. “About law school. I think you should let me help you.”

“Jules, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay, because student loans have high interest, and they’ll make it very difficult for you down the road. I would rather—”

Alaine grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard, and looked her dead in the eyes. “It’s okay. Trust me that it’ll be okay.”

Jules opened her mouth, looking torn. “I do trust you, but—”

“Then trust me.” Alaine raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have to pay for it. Put the money into things like this. Help other people. I am very lucky. Look at how lucky I am.” She looked to the party and then held the card close to her heart. “Even I didn’t know how lucky I was until right now.”

Jules hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Alaine promised her. “Very sure.”

“And you’ll tell me if you need money?”

Alaine nodded. “I will.”

“Okay.” Jules gestured to the ladies’ locker room. “Let’s freshen up. Then we’ll enjoy this fabulous party.”

“It is fabulous,” Alaine said with laugh.

“I did it.” Jules put a hand to her chest. “This is gonna be the best party you’ve ever been to in your whole dang life.”

“It already is. Best party ever.”

Chapter Sixteen

Chuito leaned against the wall outside the Cellar, staring out into the parking lot, unable to hide his scowl. He took a sip of his beer and looked at the road, as if he could somehow will the right car to pull into the Cellar.

The door opened, and Chuito glanced to see who it was.

“Hey, Jules,” he said as he went back to staring at the road.

“How much was in the card?”

“What?” He turned back and frowned at her.

“The card. The one you gave Alaine. How much was in it?”

“Is that your business?” Chuito arched an eyebrow at her. “I can give my neighbor a graduation gift without asking your permission.”

“How much, Chuito?” Jules asked rather than give in.

“Jules, no. You don’t always get what you want.”

“She’s naive. If you’re toying with her—”

“Back off, mamá bear,” Chuito said sharply. “I’m not fucking her.”

“She cares for you,” Jules whispered. “And someone like Alaine—”

“I know.” Chuito heaved a big sigh of frustration. “Trust me. Anything you’re gonna say to me is not gonna be any harsher than what I say to myself every day. I promised you I wouldn’t touch her. I meant it.”

Jules rolled her eyes and glanced out to the road. Then she dropped her arms at her sides and growled, “Who invited him?”

Chuito followed her line of sight to see a sleek black BMW pull into the parking lot. He let out a relieved breath and admitted, “I did.”

“What?” Jules hit his arm twice as hard as she had inside. “He will ruin her day!”

“No.” Chuito shook his head. “He won’t. He needs to be here. Alaine needs to see him here.”

“He is an asshole,” Jules hissed, her voice dropping when a car door opened. “He is a narrow-minded prick. He hates you worse than anyone. I guarantee you he
hates
you.”

“He should hate me,” Chuito said with a look at Jules.

“You said you weren’t fucking her,” Jules snapped at him in the low, furious snarl of an angry mother. “You told me—” She turned back before she finished and said in an ice-cold voice, “Reverend Richards.”

Chuito stared at Alaine’s father. He wore a suit like he always did whenever Chuito had seen him around town. It was clean and pressed—the same dark navy blue Alaine often wore because it brought out her eyes. His hair was a few shades darker red than his daughter, thick and styled away from his face.

He wasn’t a tall man.

He wasn’t muscular.

He was slight like Alaine, but there was always this big presence around him, like he knew people listened when he spoke. Arrogant and elegant, the kind of gringo who made Chuito nervous. The kind of man Chuito would have stolen a car from
because
he made him nervous.

“Someone sent this,” the reverend said, holding out the card Chuito had mailed.

Jules opened her mouth as she looked at it.

Before she could respond, Chuito said, “Did you do that, Jules? You mailed out the invitations.”

“I, um—” Jules shot Chuito another glare before she pointed at the invitation. “Yes. I sent it. I sent you that card because—”

“Because it’s Alaine’s day,” Chuito suggested. “And she probably wants her father here.”

“Yeah.” Jules swallowed hard, looking like she might be sick. “That’s why.”

“Does Alaine know you sent it?” the reverend asked.

“It’s a surprise party,” Chuito said cautiously. “She didn’t know anyone was coming. It’s a graduation party with presents. Did you bring a present?”

The reverend pulled back. “Are you saying—”

“I just didn’t want it to be awkward,” Chuito cut him off. “’Cause everyone else brought gifts. I just thought—” He gestured to the parking lot. “I think Jules has something in her car. Aren’t you one of those women who buys boxes of cards? For special occasions or emergencies.”

Jules frowned at Chuito and said slowly, “
Yes
.” When Chuito raised his eyebrows, she turned back to Reverend Richards and announced confidently, “I have cards. All sorts of cards. Do you want one?”

Reverend Richards looked back and forth between the two of them. Then he lowered his head and looked at the invitation in his hand and nodded. “Please, Miss Conner. I’d greatly appreciate that.”

“Okay.” Jules pointed to the parking lot. “I’m gonna go to my car and get you a card.”

“Your door is probably open,” Chuito suggested and then looked to Reverend Richards. “She always leaves her doors unlocked.”

“Yeah, that’s something I would do.” Jules gave Chuito another harsh look before she walked to the parking lot. “Been filling in at the sheriff’s department most of my life, but I leave my doors unlocked even though I have a 9mm in my glove compartment. A gun registered to
my name
.”

“She’s an eccentric woman,” Reverend Richards mused.

Chuito nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, she’s definitely eccentric.”

Reverend Richards studied Chuito, his keen gaze taking him in, and Chuito was very glad he’d worn a suit to Alaine’s graduation. Not a cheap suit either, but one of the designer ones he had invested in when he realized being a public figure meant he had to represent.

Alaine thought he looked sharp.

Chuito thought he looked pretty fucking baller if he didn’t say so himself, and it was suddenly worth the several thousand he’d spent on it.

Either way, it covered up his tattoos, and he was glad for it for once, though Chuito knew the reverend was aware he had ink.

“We’ve never been introduced. You’re Mr. Garcia, correct?”

“Sí.” Chuito winced, hating that he was nervous, and said, “I mean, yes. You can call me Chuito.”

“Mr. Garcia is fine,” the reverend said tensely and then asked, “You’re Catholic?”

Chuito frowned, not expecting that to be what the reverend homed in on. “Yeah. I am. I was—”

He arched an eyebrow at Chuito. “Was?”

“There’s no church here.” Chuito winced again. “No
Catholic
church.”

“So you’re a man without God?”

Chuito considered that, wondering what the correct response was. Fortunately, he didn’t have to answer, because Jules came back holding a box. “Look at this. A whole box of cards. In my car. That was unlocked. With
my gun
in it.”

“Good thing I was out here watching it for you,” Chuito told her with a smile.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jules pulled the lid off the box and handed it to the reverend as if he were made to stand there and help her. “Let’s see what I have.” She started thumbing through them. “Birthday. Birthday. Baby Shower. Condolences.” She lifted the condolences card. “I may need this one soon.”

“Is a friend in a bad way?” the reverend asked her.

“No, not yet. Soon.” Jules glared at Chuito before she went back to thumbing through the cards. “A graduation card.” She pulled it out and read the front, “To my daughter. That’s very ironic, since I don’t have a daughter.” She opened it. “Oh, look, it’s from a father to a daughter. That’s certainly a card I might need.”

“And you did end up using it,” Chuito pointed out. “You’re always prepared.”

“More prepared than I realized.” She handed it to Reverend Richards. “There you go.”

Reverend Richards read the card and then looked up. “I don’t have a pen.”

“I have a pen.” Chuito reached into his pocket. “There you go, bro.”

“Bro,” he repeated as he took the pen. “Where are you from, Mr. Garcia? You’re Mexican?”

“I’m, no—” Chuito shook his head, trying to keep himself from losing his temper. “No. Not Mexican.”

“You speak Spanish. You said
sí
.”

Jules rubbed a hand over her forehead, giving Chuito a smile.

“Other people besides Mexicans speak Spanish,” Chuito corrected him. “I’m originally from Puerto Rico.”

“Are you a citizen?”

Chuito gaped, unable to believe this man had just outdone Wyatt in the absolute hostility he put into that one question. “I was born an American citizen.”

“Is your mother white?”

Chuito shook his head. “No. She’s also Puerto Rican.”

“You probably don’t know your father,” the reverend said with a sharp glare.

“Oh my God.” Jules burst out laughing. “Wow.”

Chuito rubbed at the back of his neck, thinking he could physically feel his blood pressure go up as his pulse throbbed in his ears.

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Miss Conner.”

“Right.” Jules turned and glared at the reverend. “That is clearly the greatest crime against God that happened just now. Let me tell you something—”

“You should put a check in that card,” Chuito cut her off as he pointed at the card. “So that your daughter knows you support her.”

“I’m going to give her a check,” the reverend countered. “But it’s only because if I don’t, I know she’ll be taking money from this woman.” He pointed at Jules accusingly. “And I don’t want her to have the devil’s money.”

Jules tilted her head, giving the reverend a look that was icy and furious.

“Whatever,” Chuito said before Jules could say something. “As long as you do it. So she knows she matters to you.”

“I don’t like you, Mister Garcia. I know you live next door to my daughter, and I know that like this woman right here”—he gestured to Jules—“the devil has you.”

“True,” Chuito agreed as he gave the reverend a hard look. “Maybe you ought to convince her you
give a shit
before the devil decides to keep her. You’re running out of time, Reverend Richards. Make this one count.”

“I see you,” the reverend said to him. “I see who you are, Mister Garcia.”

“I hope so, cabrón.” Chuito took another drink of his beer. “I hope you see exactly who I am. Be her father.
Save her
. Be kind enough that she wants to go back to your church. She misses it. She misses her friends, but she’s not going back until you accept her for being the brilliant, independent, compassionate woman she turned into in spite of you.”

The reverend stood taller, completely immune to the furious violence throbbing off Chuito. “And what if I don’t, Mister Garcia?”

Chuito shrugged. “Walk away and find out.”

The reverend looked from Chuito to Jules, who dug into the box and pulled out an envelope to put his card in. She handed it to the reverend and then yanked the lid to the box back forcefully.

Chuito let out a shaky breath when the reverend reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a checkbook. Then Chuito leaned back against the wall and finished the last of his beer. The reverend didn’t say anything else to them as he wrote out a check.

Instead he strolled into the Cellar like he was gracing them with his presence.

Jules walked over and leaned against the wall once the door closed. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m really not on board with this, Chuito. This infatuation you have with her. She’s naive.”

“I know,” Chuito agreed.

“But I would rather see you give that man a dozen Puerto Rican grandbabies than have her crawl back to him.”

“Catholic, Puerto Rican grandbabies,” he corrected her, since Chuito being Catholic had seemed twice as offensive to the reverend as being Latino.

Jules let out a harsh, broken laugh and turned back to him. “How’d you break into my car? I know it was locked.”

Chuito arched an eyebrow at her.

“You scratched it,” she snapped at him. “My new Benz. You fucked up the paint by the window. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would’ve freaked out.”

“I’m freaked out that you scratched my car.
My new car
.” Jules let out a moan and gestured to the parking lot. “It’s brand-new.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said with a laugh. “It’s an easy fix. If I can fix your transmission, you think I can’t take out a few scratches?”

“My gun was in the car,” she growled at him. “It’s registered to me. Do you know what would happen if someone broke into it? My shotgun is in the trunk.”

“Jules, why?” Chuito started laughing, feeling sort of manic in the aftermath of that confrontation. “Why? Why? Jules, why? Why do you have a shotgun in your trunk?”

“To shoot you for scratching my brand-new Benz!”

“Is there a war here?” Chuito countered as he kept laughing. “Is someone gonna attack you? How are you more paranoid than me, mamá?”