I lift my hand, cupping it in front of my face, and do the breath-sniff test. All I can smell is my own skin. Why do I bother? It never works.
I nudge Wesley and murmur, “Does my breath smell like dick?”
“What?” he asks, throwing me a look over his shoulder.
I blow air in his face—or as close as I can get, 10 inches below him—and he makes a face of surprise. “Dick breath?” I ask.
A grin splits his face, and he chuckles. Suddenly, I’m pulled into his body with a thick arm around my waist. “Yes,” he says fondly, leaning down, kissing me andpromptly sticking his tongue in my mouth. “And now so does mine. That’ll really confuse them, don’t you think?”
I throw my head back and laugh with my whole body.
We climb up the concrete steps, and I inhale deeply as the warmth spills out, meeting me in the doorway.Mama B’s Tamalesis like a warm hug from my childhood—the air is fragrant withchiles y tomates, the walls are covered in colorful murals, neon-colored paper cutouts hang from the corners of the drop ceiling, and the travertine tile floor smells like lavender Fabuloso.
Mama B greets me with a deeply lined smile and a tight hug.
“Hi Mama B. Good to see you. This is Wesley,” I say, jerking my thumb at him. She waggles her brows at me, a silent approval.
After giving him a motherly pat on the cheek, she lifts her voice, calling towards the back.“¡Hijo! Madison está aquí y trajo a su novio. Iré a buscarlo, no me oye desde esa oficina,” she says, releasing me and heading towards the back of the restaurant, where Tío keeps one of his many offices. As she goes, she urges,“¡Siéntate! Te traeré tortillas.”
Wesley seems surprised at her abrupt departure. “She’ll be back. Her first instinct is to feed everyone. I’ve known her all my life,” I explain.
Wesley and I are choosing a table to sit at when a familiar face appears in the hallway. Dark hair, dark eyes, tattoos, a permanent smirk…
“Tío,” I say, stepping to the side so I’m not blocking Wesley. “I’d like you to meet—”
“You,” Tío says from the doorway, eyes wide in shock.
“You!” Wesley echoes, grabbing my arm and tucking me protectively behind him.
I scowl, but before I can ask what the fuck is going on and how they know each other, Tío Felix produces a gun and points it at Wesley. “Madison, why don’t you step away from the nice hitman?”
27
Wesley
Is it weird that I’m kind of… proud?
I feel like I’ve been tossed into a frozen pond and the ice has sealed back over my head. What the fuck is Felix doing here?
This is bad. I guess I was wrong to assume Felix didn’t know what I looked like.
Madison tries to push away my arm, to get out from behind me, but I refuse to move. I don’t care how familiarly he said her name—he’s a threat. He has a gun, and I don’t. And I don’t care that I’m blocking its path; it’s pointed a little too directly at someone it shouldn’t be, and bodies don’t always stop bullets.
“Want to point that somewhere else, mate?” I suggest coldly, jerking my chin at his weapon.
“I will if you move away from her,mate,” he replies, mocking me with the last word.
We eye each other up. We’re evenly matched, height-wise. He might have a bit more muscle on me, but I’m fast, and Dimitri’s taught me how to fight as dirty as I need to.
“Dios,will you two chill?” Madison cuts in, exasperated as she tries—and fails—to get around me again. “The tension in here is making me jealous. Like, just kiss already. Put the gun down, Tío.”
Felix snorts, but doesn’t move. We glare at each other for the span of a few breaths.
Madison makes another irritated noise, elbowing me lightly in the side. “Wesley, let me go.”
Bristling, I tighten my hold on her arm. “Not happening until he lowers that gun.”
Felix laughs. “Tu novio es el que está celoso, enana.Llama a tu perro.”
