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had consumed Angel a little more than the rest of them. Marcos just had an innate knowing that he would do anything and sell out anyone for enough cash, and he hadn’t trusted him for a long time because of it.
    “Don’t talk about my mother,” Marcos warned him before he could stop himself as the dark, dangerous side from his youth surfaced without warning. “You know you don’t get to talk about her, cabrón .”
    Angel’s shoulders tightened, and Marcos half expected him to lash out. He welcomed it, realizing just then that sex or booze wasn’t the outlet he needed. He wanted to fight. To hurt someone until they bled, because he was so fucking tired of his life without options.
    He suddenly didn’t want to do Mia’s bodywork any more than he wanted to do Angel’s. She was beautiful, but he realized now she was just as cold and calculating as her cousin. He had the unexpected urge to shower and wash off her touch rather than stand there.
    “I heard what happened,” Mia cut in before Angel could say something stupid. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
    “It was a bad night,” Angel confirmed and then took a deep breath as if remembering just then how bad of a night it was. “I’m sorry. Sore subject. I get it.”
    Marcos took a breath too, knowing that the rum and cokes were probably getting to him. “I’ve had a shitty day. Maybe I’m just looking for a fight.”
    “Hey, I got people you can fight.” Angel laughed, the tension slipping away as easily as it started. He turned his arm, showing Marcos the snake tattoo that matched his as a reminder. “But we’re brothers. Los Corredores need to stick together, right? Look at Chuito, he’s still my bro even with all the money and shit, and I’ll be at his next fight. Front row. Us against the world, right?”
    Marcos hesitated, not so sure about the loyalty anymore. They were obviously in a lot deeper than a group of teenagers stealing cars. It had been more than that for a while now. The game became deadly the night Juan died.
    The same night his mother died.
    Unconsciously, Marcos rubbed his arm, feeling the snake tattoo like a brand as he agreed on autopilot, “Right.”
    “You want another rum and coke?” Angel asked as he gave him a wide smile.
    “I guess.” Marcos nodded, because he knew he wasn’t driving anywhere. Might as well be drunk for it. He could certainly use it. “Yeah, why not.”
    “Mia.” Angel gestured to the backdoor of the warehouse.
    For one long moment, Mia gave her cousin a dirty look. Then she glanced back to Marcos, her gaze hot once more and then turned and left. Marcos watched her go, her hips swaying, the skirt she was wearing clinging to her in all the right places.
    Strangely, an image of Katie Foster came into his mind.
    Innocent eyes, pale skin, all those soft, wavy chestnut curls. He wondered what her ass would look like in a skirt like that. Then he shook his head and blamed the rum. He didn’t deserve a girl like Katie Foster. Not even close.
    “She wants you.” Angel grabbed Marcos’s shoulder, shaking him playfully.
    “Huh?” Marcos frowned at him, his mind still on Katie.
    “That one.” Angel gestured to his cousin. “She fetches for no man. Not even her papi, but she’s getting a drink for you.”
    This was all sort of strange. It was almost as if Angel was trying to push his cousin on Marcos. Since money hadn’t worked on luring Marcos back into the deep end of gang life, Angel must have figured pussy would do the trick. Top-shelf pussy with a brain and an ass.
    No one could say Angel wasn’t good at what he did. He was observant. He obviously knew what Marcos liked, and it wasn’t the brainless nineteen-year-olds hanging out at the warehouse every night.
    Marcos was still contemplating it when his cell rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, seeing Chuito’s face on the screen.
    “Sorry, it’s my cousin,” he mumbled to Angel and answered his phone. “ ¿Hola?