"What a fucking asshole," Jaime spat.

Carlos leaned back on the crate he was sitting on and tossed his hair out of his face. There was nothing interesting overhead, just a tiny slice of sky visible between the two run-down buildings. He needed a haircut, his dark hair fell in his eyes all the damned time, but he didn't want to waste twenty dollars.

"Yeah," he said, scrubbing a hand across his face.

They decided to meet out back of Rudolfo's because Luis picked up extra work in the kitchen, helping Jaime on his shift. The smell of the frying oil was clinging to his clothes and turning his stomach almost as much as the conversation.

"He really made her move him in the middle of the night?" Luis shook his head, waving his cigarette around wildly, leaving a swirling red mark burned into the air in the space of a blink. "Did he say why?"

Carlos sat up enough to glare at him. "Are you fucking stupid? You think those guys are going to explain shit to us? He's just a nightmare. Didn't like his room. Didn't like his seat at the dinner table. Didn't like the food. Didn't like the dessert. Mom called me in tears after she got yelled at because this idiot sent his dinner back completely untouched."

Jaime groaned. "Oh, man. There's something wrong with him, man. I'd eat your mamá's cooking all day, every day, and die a fat, happy man."

"He's not as bad as that piece of shit your mom works for," Luis said, poking Carlos in the thigh with his boot. "What's his name? Paulo? At least he hasn't tried to make a pass."

"He looks like a stiff wind could knock him over, so maybe he's afraid I'd break his pasty white face," Carlos said. "Peter," he added a moment later, breathing the second-hand smoke deep. He hadn't smoked since he was sixteen, and he fucking missed it on days like today. "Peter Randall Caldwell II and his son, the third."

"Dios mío. Even their names are longer than a donkey's balls." Jaime snubbed his cigarette out on the dumpster and stretched. "Fuck, man. We gotta get back to work."

"Pretentious," Carlos said, just to rile him. "All those people up in the big houses are pretentious as fuck."

"Hey," Jaime said, punching Carlos on the shoulder. "Watch your fucking mouth, college boy. And don't forget to ask your mom if she can hem my sister's dress before the baby's baptism."

Carlos rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "You know she will. Just have her come by the house someday after class."

"You okay to walk home?" Luis asked, taking one last drag of his cigarette.

Turning his head slowly, Carlos glared at the alpha.

Luis flinched, holding his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Mamá would have my head if I didn't at least offer."

"Like you'd be any use, man," Carlos said, snorting as he turned his head to stare back up at the sky. "Your mamá hits harder than you do." He flipped him off as they disappeared back into the swampy air of the kitchen. Even outside, it was hot and humid in the Houston summer, and he felt just disgusting enough to not want to move.

Footsteps shuffling along outside the little alley made him drag himself to his feet with a groan. "Son of a bitch," he groaned as his back cracked.

Hobbling to the mouth of the alley, he propped his shoulder against the rough brick and tried to look casual. A few seconds later, a skinny teen in a dark jacket rounded the corner, his head down. He took a few steps down the street and then spun violently around and ran back around the corner.

Sighing, Carlos rolled his shoulders, trying to work out a knot that hours of hauling mulch had permanently tied in his muscles. He was just starting to wonder if the kid had wised up when he shuffled back around the corner. His shoulders were weighed down with resignation, and he didn't look up as Carlos fell in next to him.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Jose," Carlos lied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You do good in your classes this year?"

Dark eyes slid over Carlos' face from behind a curtain of too-long hair, streaked with blond that was in need of a touch-up. "I did okay," Jose said after a moment, dropping his eyes to the sidewalk. His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat. "Not that I give a shit."

"Shhh!" The boy jumped, and Carlos made a show of looking around. "Watch it," he hissed. "If my mom hears you said something like that with me around, she'll smack us both with her flyswatter. I'm too fucking old to be walking around with tic-tac-toe boards on my cheeks."

Jose giggled, then smacked a hand over his mouth and looked around again. "It doesn't matter," he said after a moment, his shoulders slumping again. "I'm dropping out."

"Hard to be a teacher if you drop out." Carlos kept his voice casual, scanning the shadows of the streets. They were getting near the edge of the Wolves' territory, and it always made him itchy. "You gonna trade in your diploma for a red bandana? Sounds like a shitty trade to me. The Wolves don't have a pension plan."

"Neither do the teachers anymore, you nerd," Jose said, grinning at him. Something shifted in one of the alleys, a bony street cat taking off after it like a shot.

They watched for it to reappear, listening to the clang of falling trash. It never did, and Jose sighed.

Staring up at the starless sky, the lights of the city blocking out all but a tiny sliver of moon, Carlos hummed. "You've been around here for long enough," he said. "You know the deal. You want to do this, then I'll walk you to the edge of the neighborhood, but you don't come back until you want to get out."

"Yeah," Jose said with a muffled sniff.

"I don't think you want to do this, though," he added, still staring at the sky. There was a party at the mayor's house tonight, and sometimes the beams from the spotlights cut across the edge of what he could see.

"I have to."

Carlos nodded. "I'll take your word for it, man. You're old enough to know. How about you explain it to me, so I know what to tell your mom when she comes looking?" She would, and they both knew it. She wouldn't be the first parent to pound down his door and take their grief out on him with their fists.

Jose was quiet, his head down. It wasn't like he didn't understand; Carlos had lived in this neighborhood his whole life. The opportunities started at minimum wage and ended at drug running. He got it. He didn't like it, but he'd made this walk with one too many kids to pretend that he had any answers.

"They said if I didn't join up, they'd take Marco instead," Jose said, barely a whisper.

"Son of a whore," Carlos cursed, rattling off some truly filthy expletives in Spanish when that didn't seem strong enough.

Omegas were the most vulnerable to the gangs. If they couldn't fight off the gang alphas, they were passed around until they were used up and then left on the streets too drug-addicted and damaged to fend for themselves. Even the lucky ones ended up jaded and cold. It didn't happen in Lion territory, just like recruiting kids didn't happen in Lion territory on threat of death. He heard the rumors the Wolves were getting desperate, but he never thought they'd provoke the head of the Lions like this.

"Go home, Jose." A muscle in his jaw twitched as he tried to force his jaw to relax. "I can guarantee you that nobody's going to lay a hand on your brother."

Jose stared at Carlos, his eyes too jaded for his age. "You swear?"

"On my mom's soul," Carlos said, keeping eye contact. "I will take care of this, and you won't have to worry about a damned thing."

Relief was a visible force, rattling Jose's slender body until he almost slid to the dirty pavement. "Oh, thank God."

Bracing him with one hand, Carlos smiled, scanning the streets again. They weren't quite to the cross street that marked the edge of the Lion's territory, so he wasn't expecting anything.

It paid to be cautious, however, and he was instantly alert when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, well, well...What we got here?" A slimy, unfamiliar voice slithered out of the shadows of one of the alleys. "It's a good night for us, boys. We get a two for one special."

There had been a time when Carlos had known all of the Wolves lieutenants on sight, but he didn't recognize the man who stepped out of the alley. That meant he was one of the newer members, low level. Kicking his ass wasn't likely to start any major trouble, and that was a relief.

Jose clutched at Carlos' t-shirt on instinct, his eyes wide with terror.

"You shouldn't have crossed the territory line," Carlos said, pushing Jose behind him. It was like trying to move a statue, the poor kid was so tense.

"Why, who's gonna stop us? You? The big boss is all locked up in prison, man. Everybody knows this neighborhood is ripe for the picking." The alpha sauntered out into the light, unremarkable except for the red bandana tied around his arm. He looked like every other fucking moron Carlos had beat the crap out of since he was old enough to throw a punch.

Knowing the way the Wolves operated, there were at least three more guys hidden in the shadows, ordinary soldiers just doing what they were told. Carlos let his voice carry so they couldn't say he hadn't given them a chance.

"Just walk away, guys. If León finds out you're walking around on his turf, you're all dead."

Pulling a knife out of his jacket with a liquid slide, the lieutenant smiled. "Who's gonna tell? You, pretty boy? You think you'll have enough blood left in you to tell anybody anything after I'm done with you?"

"Carlos," Jose whimpered, tucking himself tight up against Carlos' back.

"It's fine, Jose," he said, cracking his knuckles.

"It's not fine, Jose," the lieutenant said, licking the blade of his knife. "We gave you a fucking choice, bitch." He glared at the terrified kid as he flashed the well-sharpened steel in the light of the street lamps.

Carlos almost rolled his eyes. Moves like that were so fucking pointless. They didn't look cool, especially if you cut your tongue open and bled all over everything. "All right, let's get this over with," he said, pulling his shirt off rather than trying to get Jose to let go. Stalking forward a few steps, he put his fists up and waited.

Jose squeaked, a strangled sound like a mouse that's just realized the cat can fit under the furniture it’s hiding under.

"You’re seriously gonna try and fight me?" the alpha laughed. "You fucking stupid or something?"

"Something like that," Carlos said, sighing. "Can you just get your ass in gear? I have work in the morning. Unless you're a coward."

The guy's eyes flashed, narrowing as he clenched his fist on the handle of the knife. "Fuck you. I'm gonna carve your tongue out of your fucking head for that."

"From where I'm standing, you're all talk, asshole." Cocking his head, Carlos debated with himself whether the idiot would charge or swing wildly. Both were easy enough to deflect, but a charge might put Jose in the line of fire.

Fortunately, he chose the flashy approach, the knife flashing out as soon as he was within reach. Carlos stepped around it easily, grabbing his wrist and using his momentum to spin the guy around into a headlock.

"Look, hijo de puta," Carlos said, pinching a nerve in the alpha's arm until the knife clattered to the street. "It's after midnight on a school night, and I've got work in the morning, so I'm going to make this really simple. You see this face?" He threaded his fingers into dark, greasy hair and wished he hadn't. Forcing the Wolf's head back, until he was making eye contact, he bared his teeth. "You see these eyes?"

"Aw, shit. El Leoncito," one of the guys in the shadow groaned, and Carlos grinned wider, a shark in the ocean of concrete. Without even the sound of a footstep, the air was suddenly more empty, the hairs on his arm laying down as the threat vanished like smoke.

Still in his headlock, the lieutenant flinched, covering his moment of fear by spitting on Carlos' cheek. "Fuck you."

Letting him go, Carlos watched him stumble to the shadows at the mouth of the alley, wiping his cheek with a disgusted grunt. "Not even in your wildest dreams, asshole," he grumbled.

When he was certain they were alone, he turned and started herding Jose up the street. Just because he was off limits didn't mean they wouldn't come back for the teen. Jose’s thin body was stiff with shock, still clutching the shirt in white-knuckled fists. Carlos let him keep it; it was late enough that none of the old ladies were awake to yell at him for walking around uncovered.

The streets were just as silent as before, but now it grated on his nerves, making him jump at every shift of the wind. His skin prickled as if eyes were on him as he dragged Jose along, the kid's trainers dragging against the street until the sound made his teeth ache. When he realized the teenager was staring at him with wide, awed eyes, he laughed at himself under his breath.

"You okay?" he asked Jose, shaking the tension out of his shoulders. Those dark eyes followed the twitch of each muscle, and Carlos had to force back a laugh at the bright flush that deepened the boy's tanned cheeks. It was easy to remember those days, having a crush on the big alpha veteran who lived in the building next door, and he couldn't bring himself to be cruel about it. Jose would be a heartbreaker someday, once he grew out of the knees and elbows phase.

Nodding distractedly, Jose followed after Carlos like a lost puppy, silent until they were almost back to his apartment.

"Are you really el Leoncito?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Groaning, Carlos threw himself down on the steps of the building. "Fuck, man, you ask the heavy questions." Gesturing to the spot next to him, he waited for the teen to sit down before he sucked a breath through his teeth. "Am I León Rodríguez's son? Yes. Am I el Leoncito? Depends on who you ask. I haven't had anything to do with him since my mom left him when I was four, and I sure as hell don't have anything to do with the gangs."

"Is that why you wear contacts?" Jose asked, leaning in entirely too close to stare at Carlos' eyes. Carlos let him, blinking the contacts out of the way so his eyes would show.

He knew what they looked like; the color had been called honey, amber, and even gold by his many admirers, usually with a dreamy sigh. He'd never been particularly fond of his eyes. They were darker than the pale yellow that had earned his father his nickname, but still distinctive enough to identify him in rough neighborhoods as far away as Phoenix.

"Wow," Jose breathed, leaning in even closer as his eyes dropped to Carlos' lips.

And that was his sign it was past time to call it a night. Sitting up quickly, Carlos twisted around to grab his shirt and pull it on. "Fucking mosquitoes," he said under his breath, ignoring the way the teen flushed. "You should head up. You and Marco stay away from the Wolves for a few days, okay?"

"Yeah," Jose said, scuffing his shoe against the concrete and staring at the run-down apartment building. "I'll make sure we take the long way to school."

"Have María Lourdes make a grocery run if you guys need something from the store. The one over here charges too much." Carlos got to his feet, stretching with a hiss as his shoulders twinged. He was getting too old to get in fights. He laughed to himself. He'd be waving a cane around by thirty at this rate.

"Hey, Carlos," Jose said from the steps as Carlos glanced at his watch. "Thanks."

Smiling, Carlos tossed him a casual salute. "No problem, boss," he teased. "Just stay out of trouble. Your mom will kill us both if you end up like your old man."

Jose grimaced. "Yeah...I have to go see him for Father's Day...Your mom doesn't make you go visit el León?"

"The last time he sent one of his boys around to beg for her to talk to him," Carlos said, grinning wider and ignoring the way Jose's eyes snagged on his dimples, a flush creeping over his ears, "she kicked the poor dumbass in the nuts and beat him with her mop."

Eyes wide enough to glow in the dim light, Jose whistled. "My mom doesn't have the cojones. She says it's just because she loves him too much."

Carlos snorted. "These guys are charming, but they don't give a shit about their wives, their omegas. They just like to get laid." He raised a hand and pointed at Jose, the little alpha snapping to attention at his scowl. "If I ever hear you treated someone like that, woman or man, alpha or omega, I'll kick your ass, understand?"

"I wouldn't!" Jose said, his hands fisting at his sides. "Only losers do that."

"Remember you said that," Carlos said, "because you're not going to be cool or popular with the other alphas by treating people nice." He paused thoughtfully, a wicked smirk stretching his chapped lips until they ached. "It'll get you laid, though."

"Carlos!" Jose slapped his hands over his eyes, sputtering as he curled up in embarrassment.

"What?" Carlos asked innocently. "It's true." Having mercy on the poor kid, he cleared his throat. "Go inside so I can finally get some sleep."

Too embarrassed to reply, the teenager flipped him off and disappeared through the creaky door into the dingy and worn apartment lobby.

"Prick," Carlos muttered under his breath. He laughed to himself as he headed for his apartment only to turn around at the end of the block with a curse.

He was working at the Forrester's tomorrow, on the other side of the major highway construction. If he slept at home, he'd have to get up at the ass-end of morning just to get there on time. Jogging to the nearest bus stop, Carlos managed to hop the last bus to the nice side of town, almost sleeping through his stop.

The big house was dark and quiet when he trudged up the driveway an hour later, his eyes burning. The old carriage house was used to store lawn equipment, but the tiny storage room above it had been converted into a drafty apartment back in the 60's. He spent enough of his life making the trip that he didn't even have to see where he was going, so he let his body carry him along half asleep.

"Well, well, well..." a drunken slur out of the shadows made Carlos pause, cursing his luck to the stars. "Whadda we have 'ere?" Peter Caldwell, the younger, stumbled out of the dark, a bottle of his father's high-end Scotch clutched in one hand.

"Not in the mood, Petey," he snapped, shaking off the sleepy haze and stomping across the gravel.

"Aw, sweetheart, I could get you in the mood." With the luck and flexibility of the truly smashed, he lunged across the space between them and managed to tangle them together from hip to shoulder. "I'd make you beg for it."

The stench of his sour breath made Carlos gag, shoving him back carefully. The last thing he needed was to get his mamá in trouble. "You couldn't get it up with a whole bottle of Viagra, you drunk."

Dropping his hands to his crotch, it took a moment for Peter to remember he was holding the bottle in one. He took a long drink when he noticed it, smacking his lips and fondling himself suggestively. "You trying to make me prove it? Come here, and I'll give you a little taste."

"I'm going to sleep, you stupid fuck. Go home." Turning on his heel, Carlos stomped up the rickety stairs that climbed up the side of the carriage house. He knew he was being too loud, and his mom didn't deserve to lose sleep over this asshole, but he didn't give a shit. At least someone else would hear the crap he had to put up with.

"Shut up, bitch. I own this place. I own you." Peter stumbled over to the stairs and slammed his shin on the first one when he couldn't manage the coordination to climb them. "Fucking whore."

"Very inventive," Carlos said, spitting over the edge of the rails. "You don't own shit, momma's boy."

"Fuck you," Peter roared, stumbling as a patch of gravel shifted under him and he fell on his face on the driveway.

It was tempting to watch him flail around like a turtle, but he had better things to do with his time, so Carlos slipped through the wobbly door and shut it behind himself with a click.