CHAPTER TWO
ALEJANDRA
IT’S ILLEGAL TO COMMIT MURDER, I keep reminding myself as I sit on the hospital bed waiting to see a doctor. There’s no way I can get away with it when it’s my entire family and my best friend I’m considering offing.
“I don’t need this, Abuelita. You’re overreacting!” My words are aimed at the stone wall that is my grandmother.
My eyes implore someone, anyone to take my side, but no one comes to my rescue against Doña Cecilia.
My cousins are no help, for they are enjoying this visit to the hospital too. They are worried about the lump on my hand, but at the same time, they take pleasure that this emergency room visit is on me and not one of their escapades. After all the shit I’ve given them over the years, this is something they’ll never let me live down. Though worry is mixed with the elated look on their faces, I am the baby of the family, therefore, it’s their duty to cause me any type of embarrassment—a duty they take to heart.
My grandfather, who has his hands on my grandmother’s shoulders, shakes his head at my protests.
Then, there’s Teresa who is rubbing my back in a manner she thinks is soothing, but is really driving me insane. She’s no help at all.
“We’re going to spend so much money on this visit, and all for nothing,” I continue to protest, hoping someone will change their mind at the mention of money.
Instead, my grandmother’s grip on my left hand tightens, her lips form a thin line, and her nostrils flare in irritation.
“Alej!” Her voice vibrates with fury, and she is literally shaking beside me. “Your abuelo and I have not worked our entire lives, sometimes going without, to build a name for ourselves, to build a legacy, and to provide a nest egg for each of you children for naught. If I want to spend a fortune to ensure you are healthy, then I will. I would give my fortune for each of my grandchildren. Do you understand me?”
Her question strikes fear in me because this is the voice she uses when she’s about to explode. My grandfather leans down and whispers in her ear. Her body relaxes, and the grip on my hand lessens.
I breathe a sigh of relief and bow my head in submission.
“Yes, ma’am,” is my only response because nothing I say will get me out of this room. Not until my grandmother is certain I’m okay.
“Relax, Alej,” Teresa murmurs from my other side.
“You know that hand is about to be smacked away. Right?” I grumble.
“You’re ungrateful, you know that?” she states without remorse or anger. She’s known me from the moment I came to live with my grandparents. “I’m trying to soothe you.”
“Well, it ain’t helping.”
“Fine,” she huffs, snatching her hand away from my back.
“Fine.” I chuckle and bump shoulders with her. She smiles at me.
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Gaitan.” A gruff, smoky, and very appealing voice sounds as a new person walks into the room. “And I’ll be your attending physician.”
My eyes snap up, and I freeze.
Lord…he’s over six feet of pure male deliciousness. His bronze-tanned skin and lean and well-toned muscle is encased in dark blue scrubs, and my fingers long to run their way through his attractive tousled nest of light brown hair. I could practically drown in his beautiful hazel eyes.
“Hay, Dios mío…” my grandmother sighs.
“Sweet, baby Jesus. Pour some chocolate on that man and let me lick him dry to my heart’s content,” Teresa moans.
That jerks me out of my reverie. My jaw clenches at the image she paints. Teresa is sexy, attractive, and never lacks from male attention. But the thought of her with him, in that manner, makes me want to scratch my best friend’s eyes out. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, and one I don’t quite like. We’ve never had a rivalry between us. Not even when we both liked the same boy in middle school. No man has ever come between us. My reaction to him and her words unsettle me. It scares me.
My body tenses and a low rumble sounds deep in my throat.
She sends me a questioning side-glance. “Did you just growl?” She sounds incredulous.
“No,” I snap and look up, hoping the doctor didn’t notice our little interaction.
He didn’t. His gaze is focused on the embarrassing male wall behind us.
“Okay…” Indecision crosses his face before he takes a cautious step forward. “Where is my patient?
Irritation and anger is long forgotten and mortification takes their place.
“Here.” I raise my hand. “I’m the patient.” And I can’t help but give him a small please-forgive-us-smile.
My face burns, and I pray against hope that I’m not as red as a tomato. Hoping to gain some control over this mess of a situation, I jump off the bed and stand before him.
“Please excuse…” I don’t bother finishing the sentence. I just jerk my thumb at the Neanderthals behind me.
His eyes survey me up and down, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. My mortification heightens when I remember my clothes. While Teresa is dressed in a cute, fitted, low-cut V-neck jumpsuit with heels, I’m dressed in an old t-shirt, work pants, and work boots.
I try to calm myself by taking several deep breaths. No matter what I wear, I’ll never measure up to his movie-star good looks. There’s no way this Adonis of a man is interested in me because men like him are never interested in tomboy princesses like myself.
“Yo, doc!” Max calls out, popping his knuckles. “You better get those thoughts outta that head of yours and start thinking with the head above your waist, or we’ll beat the ever living daylights outta ya.”
And just like that, the gorgeous doctor is forgotten because murder is once again at the forefront of my mind. Nothing will save them from my wrath when we get out of here.
I’m going to kill them all.
ANTONIO
It was pure torture.
Touching her. Being close to her. So close, I could smell her light, flowery scent, reminding me of a fresh, spring day. It was natural, and not at all overpowering.
One hour of touching her unexpectedly rough hand drove me almost insane with desire.
After discovering she worked in the oil and construction field, I understood the callouses, and my want of her rose to a whole new level for she was a strong, determined, independent woman.
The need to kiss her or ask her on a date was almost more than I could endure.
Then, add the wall of testosterone, their death glares, and hovering presence over my shoulder, and my desire mingled with frustration. Not even their explanation of making sure I didn’t “cop a feel” calmed me. Only the look in Alejandra’s grandmother’s eyes kept me from being an ass and kicking them out.
However, when I took an ultrasound of her hand and they all leaned forward to see the screen, the green monster reared its head. I witnessed her family rally behind her and a twinge of envy settled over me because that is what I could have had if my father hadn’t died—a big, loving, and supporting family.
The ultrasound showed a five-millimeter mass located on the side of her right hand, below her index finger. There were no signs to indicate alarm, though her grandmother did insist I bring in a second opinion, from an “actual experienced doctor” because it was her baby’s life in my hands. After the second doctor confirmed my diagnosis, Alejandra was discharged, and with her, my only chance at something more than stress, work, and worry about money.
Finally, I’m free until my next shift. Ten whole hours to eat, shower, run errands, and get that blessed and much-needed sleep.
I settle on the couch and take a huge bite out of my peanut butter sandwich—the first “decent” meal in God knows how many hours, because hospital snacks do not qualify as food—and dial Jax’s number.
Jax, a buddy of mine from college, should be able to help me find a way to make some extra cash. After all, he helps his brother, the butcher, with their well-known establishment—The Meat Market. Together, they worked their business out of the red and into the black, bringing in a good lump sum of profit. Surely, he’ll be able to give me ideas or even an offer. Yes, he’ll razz me some after my constant refusal to work for them, or at least “help” out every now and then, when they offered me a “job” in the past. Though I’ve refused time and again, things do change, and desperate times call for desperate measures. At this time, my morals have taken a backseat to my financial need.
Hearing Jax’s voice on the other side of the phone is stress relieving. With him, I don’t have to hold back about my worries. I can talk.
The conversation starts out with the usual greetings and him talking about a recent client of his—his very first client, the one who got away, and who is now back with life-changing news. I briefly mention Alejandra, the highlight of my socially-lacking life, then ease into the main reason for my call: I’m folding.
I’m no longer saying no to their offer.
As anticipated, Jax gives me shit, but what should I expect from a friend? If I were in his shoes, I’d do some teasing before welcoming him with wide open arm.
He gets me in touch with his older brother, the butcher, and after a discussion with him, ironing out the details, my rules for my level of involvement, and discussing my cut, I’m put on the menu—a new addition to their “stock.”
My description on the menu states, “Chorizo: Age twenty-eight, Mexican-American medical resident. Sal is a recent addition to the Meat Market stock. Six-foot-one, bronze skin, light-brown hair, with honey-colored eyes you can drown in. Great for evening galas, family gatherings, and a quiet, tranquil evening for two.”
Jason explained that all the guys use a fake name, so I decided to go by Sal—a nickname Jax gave me in college to shorten my middle name, Salvador.
“Welcome to The Meat Market,” Jason adds to his farewell before hanging up.
At his words, I’m unsure whether to laugh or cry. What the fuck did I just get myself into? God, I pray my mother, who is highly conservative, never finds out because her disappointment is worse than her chancla.
She will flip if she ever discovers I just became the Chorizo in the Butcher’s Meat Market.