Untamed Hearts 1: The Viper (4 page)

Just this one.

She actually smiled as she brushed by Ashley. Katie wasn’t perfect. Her arm was scarred to hell and back, but she had paid off the few college loans she had since getting the new teaching job. She wasn’t hiring their local lawyer to fend off all the creditors.

Yes, Katie had looked at Jules’s desk when she she’d gotten up. Terrible of her. Oh well. Ashley had made her life miserable since grade school. If Katie got a small amount of pleasure knowing the washed-up cheerleader was living with her mother again and had lost everything due to outrageous credit card debt, she just chalked it up to karma.

* * * *

“I’m sorry, but I’m not helping you with this delusion. Let it go.”

Katie glared at Jules across her desk, but it did little good. This woman once held a spot on the US Olympic team for judo. She was a sheriff’s deputy in her younger years and was now the only lawyer in all of Garnet County. Plus there was that incident a while back where she and her husband faced down a whole crew of real-life mafia guys and lived to tell about it—those mafia guys hadn’t been so lucky.

Jules Wellings was
not
an easy person to intimidate.

“Please,” Katie whined out of desperation. “I just need a phone number. I know your friend Chuito has it. If you could just—”

“No,” Jules repeated as she glanced up from her work with a frown. “And what the heck makes you think he’s gonna give it to me even if I did ask him for it?”

Katie gave Jules a look, because they both knew Jules usually got whatever she wanted if she put her mind to it.

“Please,” Katie repeated.

“Okay, let’s actually discuss this.” Jules pushed aside her file and gave Katie her full attention. “What is the obsession with Marcos Rivera?”

“He was nice to me.” Katie shrugged self-consciously. “I never got a chance to thank him.”

“He crashed into you and ruined your New Year. You have the scars to prove it,” Jules said slowly, looking at Katie like she’d lost her mind. “He may have been below the legal limit, but he did have alcohol in his system. What the heck have you got to thank him for?”

“That wasn’t his fault,” Katie argued. “If you’d seen how that woman was driving—”

“He has a record,” Jules cut in before Katie could finish. “He served time for stealing cars. Did you know that?”

Katie stared at her, knowing she should feel more apprehension than she did. It wasn’t a huge shock. Jules had claimed before that Marcos had a colorful past. “That doesn’t mean—”

“Bullshit.” Jules cut her off before she could finish. “You know
exactly
what it means, Katie.”

Before she could stop herself, Katie blurted out, “Didn’t your husband do time?”

“We’re not talking about me.” Jules’s glare became icy, making it obvious Katie had stepped into dangerous territory. “But for the record, the situation with Romeo was unfair and unavoidable. Your fella Marcos served time for stealing not one but several cars. He was caught hacking them up for parts in an abandoned warehouse. Does that sound like someone you wanna get mixed up with? What if it was your car that was stolen? You think you’d still be wanting to get in touch?”

Katie folded her arms over her chest, knowing it seemed childish, but she just couldn’t forget Marcos at the crash site, willing to face a DUI head-on rather than abandon her. That sort of integrity was intriguing, and she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she’d been attracted to him, but this quest was about more than her long-dormant sex life. She wanted a chance to talk to him once more.
That’s it.

“You’re not a college student anymore. You’re a teacher now,” Jules reminded her before Katie could put words to her convictions. “You cannot afford to get mixed up with someone like Marcos. He’s states away. Be thankful for it and move on with your life.”

Jules’s reasoning made sense. Katie knew she should do just that, but for some reason, everything felt unfinished. She needed closure.

Grasping at straws, she huffed, “But I still have his jacket.”

“Consider it his gift to you for totaling your car.”

“I have resorted to posting notes to him on craigslist,” Katie admitted with a blush of embarrassment. “You should see my inbox. It’s full of messages from every weirdo in Miami.”

Jules shook her head and laughed. “You honestly think a fella like that spends his Saturday nights reading the personals on craigslist?”

Katie shrugged. “Maybe.”

“If that boy had to read the personals for a date, you wouldn’t be coming in here every other day asking for his number. He’s good-looking, I’ll give ya that.” Suddenly Jules frowned and leaned past her desk. She narrowed her eyes at the staircase as if her cop senses were on high alert and called out, “In or out. Stop eavesdropping.”

“Oh God.” Katie resisted the urge to drop her head to Jules’s desk.

She knew who’d been listening to their conversation without having to look to see who came down the stairs. Her skin prickled with apprehension. Even without two UFC championship belts, Chuito “The Slayer” Garcia would have made her jumpy. He screamed danger, and Katie thought it was mighty rich of Jules to be giving her hell about trying to get in contact with Marcos when a fella like Chuito lived in the apartment above Jules’s office.

Maybe, by some small stroke of luck, he hadn’t heard the last bit of their conversation.

“Craigslist, huh?”

Katie stiffened at the rough sound of amusement in Chuito’s voice as he came up behind her. Her cheeks flamed, and she cursed her light coloring because she knew it had to show.

She turned around in her seat and glared at Chuito, who was almost as good-looking as Marcos. He didn’t have the light eyes that made Marcos’s features so startling, and Chuito was a little taller. His shoulders were broader, but the two of them still looked a lot alike, which always gave her a strange mental whiplash.

“What?” Chuito’s smile faded, and his shoulders grew tense under her scrutiny.

“Nothing,” Katie said quickly. “I was just thinking you and Marcos look alike. Strangely so.”

“Well, duh, we’re cousins.”

“Oh, really?” Katie was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

He snorted in disbelief. “What? Did you just think we all look alike?”

“All?” Katie frowned for a moment, and then gasped in understanding. “I would never think that. I’m not ignorant. I know not all Cubans look alike.”

Chuito narrowed dark eyes at her. “I’m Puerto Rican.”

Katie winced, hearing the insult in his voice. “I’m sorry, I assumed since you were from Miami and—”

“Just stop,” Jules mumbled under her breath.

“I apologize, but it was an honest mistake,” Katie snapped as she turned back to Jules. “He is trying to make me uncomfortable on purpose so I’ll drop this. He’s baiting me. I know, because I was married to a man who used to do it all the time.” She turned back to glare at Chuito. “I don’t care if you bully me. I’m not letting you win.”

“Chica, I’m not bullying you. I’m telling you flat out. Drop this thing with Marcos ’cause I’m sure as shit not giving you his number when he went out of his way to change it after the accident. I dunno what he said to you that night, but let it go.” Chuito’s laugh was bitter. “You’re not the first woman to fall for his bullshit.”

“Did you tell him I was asking about him?” Katie asked, not sure what she wanted the answer to be. “Does he know I still have his jacket?”

“Why don’t you give me the jacket, and I’ll get it back to him?” Chuito suggested, his tone still biting and sarcastic. “Since it’s so important to you.”

Katie snorted. “Not likely.”

Chuito mumbled something in Spanish under his breath and looked toward the ceiling fan in Jules’s office. “This shit could only happen to Marcos. This is the reason he’s been getting it since he was thirteen. Unbelievable.”

“Thirteen?” Katie repeated in disbelief.

She glanced at Jules for confirmation, seeing that she had a look of surprise on her face too.

“You’re a liar,” Katie decided as she turned back to Chuito. “And I don’t like you.”

Jules laughed, but then coughed when Chuito drew himself up to his full height obviously offended.

Jules cleared her throat and said earnestly, “Look, Chuito, can’t you just—”

“No, I can’t. Marc’s trying to forget that accident.” His eyes were still narrowed at Katie. “The last thing he needs is a call from
her
.”

“Well, what if Katie gave you her number—”

Katie gasped and turned back to Jules. “What?”

“And he could give it to Marcos,” Jules finished diplomatically. “That’s a fair compromise.”

“Well,” Katie considered that. “Maybe.”

“No.” Chuito shook his head. “I want nothing to do with this
gringa
.”

Katie straightened in her chair and looked at him directly just the way Marcos had told her to. “Why do you think it’s okay to insult me?”

“It’s not—” Chuito started and then stopped. “You know what, never mind. Believe it’s an insult.” He rolled his eyes as if she were completely clueless and turned to leave. “Later, Jules.”

“Chuito—” Jules called as he walked to the entryway.

“No,” he repeated as he grabbed his jacket off the stand by the front door. “Do your friend a favor and hook her up with a nice, church-going guy here in Garnet. Ask Alaine to help.
She knows plenty
.”

As if on cue, Jules’s assistant, Alaine, opened the front door. She had a stack of papers in her arms as if she had just gotten back from the courthouse.

Alaine gave Chuito a bemused smile. “Help with what?”

He paused, looking down at the pretty redhead and considering her for a long moment. When he spoke, his tone was softer, endearing in a way Katie wouldn’t have thought possible. “Help her stay away from mean
hijos de putas
like me.”

Chapter Four

Miami

This warehouse was, by far, Marcos’s favorite. He was going to be very sad when it was lost to the inevitable police raid, because it was a cool place to hang out. Los Corredores had had it for over three years, and Marcos, always the cynical one, had been mourning its eventual demise for a while now.

The top floors had been converted into bedrooms. Two of the rooms had black lights. One had a foosball table. There was no heat or central air, but they had window units and space heaters. Flat-screen televisions, leather couches, and lots of dark corners.

By eight o’clock Marcos had two rum and Cokes and four different phone numbers in his pocket. Why the hell was he avoiding this anyway? He conveniently forgot the wide-eyed innocence of Katie Foster and her blood on his hands. Instead he danced with Mia Fuentes, who was a new face and his age, when lately the girls had been getting younger and younger at the warehouse. Of course, most of the guys there were younger than him too.

At twenty-six, he should’ve been dead or in prison.

There weren’t many of their old crew left. It was a better reason to leave than the image of Katie Foster the night of the accident, but the rum was doing away with his common sense. Mia had nice curves. Marcos had never liked them too thin, and she had a great ass.

“I’ve heard things about you. They say you’re different.” Mia leaned into him when the music turned soft and sensual. She pressed her lips against the curve of his neck. “Tell me why.”

Marcos laughed, because he knew what she’d heard.

“My mother raised me with manners.” He looked up at the stars as the two of them danced on the flat slab of cement behind the warehouse. “Unlike the rest of these pendejos, I respect women. That’s it.”

Her smile was wide and amused. “You got game.”

“Yeah, sometimes,” he agreed as he returned her smile.

“If you need somewhere to sleep tonight, I could hook you up. I’m staying here now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you?”

“I’ve been helping Angel wash titles for the cars they steal. I got the best room.”

“I heard he’s been getting a lot of luxury cars. I thought he was boosting them for the parts, not selling them as is.” Marcos couldn’t hide his surprise. “How do you wash the titles?”

“Say you buy a Benz that’s totaled in an accident from Gus’s Junkyard. All you have to do is steal one that’s the same make and year. You switch the vin numbers on the cars, get the title on the totaled car changed over to your name, and you got a new, clean car to sell.”

“And you do all that? Get all the paperwork done and make the car legal?” Marcos was seriously impressed, because that sounded like a very complicated job.

“I spend half my time at the DMV,” she told him confidently.

“No wonder you have the nicest room.” Marcos pulled back, silently thinking about that. He’d heard of organizations as elaborate as that, but he hadn’t known Los Corredores had moved past simply stripping the cars for parts. “Does he get good money for them?”

“Yeah, we’re dealing in mainly luxury cars now. We have buyers who ship them overseas.”

“Do the buyers know they’re hot?”

“Yeah, but they don’t give a fuck. Once they’re out of the country, it doesn’t really matter.”

The paperwork aside, it was delicate business working on a car you wanted to sell rather than strip. Luxury cars were designed to be thief proof. Stealing was one thing, reworking them was another. Not many could pull that off effectively.

“Who does he have switching the vins?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Hopefully you.” Angel gripped Marcos’s shoulder as he walked up. “I’m tired of Luis fucking them up.”

Marcos turned to him in horror. “You’re letting Luis cut into luxury vehicles?”

Angel shrugged. “He’s the only one who knows where to find the vins.”

As a lover of fine cars, Marcos couldn’t help but wince at the idea of Luis hacking into something shiny and new. He let go of Mia to shake his head at Angel. “
Estás del carajo
. He’s the worst one to do it. He’s too impatient.”

“So come back.” Angel held up a hand as if it were obvious. His eyes were sharp and calculating, his broad shoulders tense, making it obvious he had been waiting not so patiently for Marcos to get over his fit of morality and come back around. “You can stay here if you want. I bet Mia wouldn’t mind sharing her room. She’s my cousin, you know? She just moved here from the island a few months ago, but she’s smart. Got a college degree and everything. Top shelf. Better than these putas you’re used to.”