Page 34 of Miguel
Starting with the fucker who broke into her house.
“Nena, it’s okay. We’re here now.”
She pulled away with a sniffle, her eyes straying over my shoulders where my brothers were. Her eyes widened as she took them in and their varying degrees of sizes, shapes, and tattoos. Her eyes lingered a bit too long on Loco, and I could see the flash of fear.
That wasn’t surprising. He inspired it even in the most hardened of criminals, let alone a slip of a thing like her. With his shorn hair and the tattoos decorating his face. His malicious smirk didn’t help, I was sure.
“Mayan is going to take a look inside,” I told her, drawing her attention back to me. It was also an order to Mayan, who shouldered his way inside her small hallway, walking in with his fingers twitching at his sides.
He was a tall, lithe motherfucker who had a quiet presence that took up a great deal of space. His shoulder hit the edge of a cracked-open closet, and when he made it a foot away, the door burst open fully. There was a guttural scream and a blur shot out from the closet. There was a clang, the sound of something hitting flesh and Mayan’s quiet grunt.
When the scene registered, I tried to hold in my snort of laughter at the tiny slip of a woman wielding a frying pan, whacking Mayan with it.
Mayan flinched away, cursing with each thwack against his body. Lorena let out a gasp. “Desi!” But the other female didn’t react. And Mayan, having enough of the abuse, grabbed her wrist in his hand, tightening his grip until the pan fell from her trembling fingers.
The woman gasped. Her eyes were huge, round, and her cheeks streaked with tears. She took in Mayan’s frame and her lower lip trembled. But there was a flash of defiance as she tilted her chin up against Mayan’s flared nostrils and threatening glare.
I had to admit, I’d seen weaker men cower against the gaze of our silent secretary. It’s what made him intimidating.
“What the fuck?” he growled low.
Then Lorena was detaching herself from me. I didn’t like how my body felt without her near. Empty, like I was missing some integral part of myself. But my brave little spitfire rushed in between Mayan and her friend, shoving him away unkindly.
“Let go of her hands!”
He stumbled back, glaring. “She fucking attacked me.” He almost sounded awed.
“She’s Deaf, you butt-head. She can’t hear you.” And then I watched as Lorena’s hands began moving in sharp, firm gestures in front of her friend. They responded in a language all of their own, and the silence felt pressing before Lorena started speaking aloud.
“Desiree, these are…” She paused a beat too long. “Friends.” Like the word tasted foreign on her tongue. Like it didn’t belong there. Perhaps my brothers would be her friends, but me and her? We would be something else entirely. “Guys, this is Desiree, my roommate.”
I remembered her saying something about them being locked in a closet together.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
Lorena cut me a sharp glare, her nostrils flaring. “She is right here.” Her hands moved in time with her words. “You don’t have to talk about her like she’s not in the room. She can read lips if you want to talk to her, but make sure you’re directly facing her.”
I blinked at the ferocity with which she defended her friend. It reminded me of the way she reamed my ass for not picking up Zeke from school. She was a protector. Fierce. Dedicated. Fuck, I liked that about her. And it suddenly made sense why she suspected Zeke had been Hard of Hearing, if she had experience with it.
“Sorry.” I apologized directly to Desiree, who was staring at me with wariness. Though I didn’t fucking blame her. Their house just got broken into. “Are you okay?”
She signed her response and Lorena translated, “I’ll live.” Then Desiree turned to Mayan, her lips pressing down tightly. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” Lorena said after her friend signed.
Mayan snorted. “It’ll take a lot more than a frying pan to hurt me, hermosa.”
I wanted to snicker at the nickname. Of all the brothers, Mayan was the one you’d least likely find getting his dick wet with the club putas, much less calling a woman ‘beautiful.’ The others sensed it too, what the endearment meant, because Loco let out a low whistle and stepped inside.
“Are we gonna search the place or what?” he demanded. I could feel his impatience. His need for violence. That was probably the only reason he came, besides helping out a brother, he was probably hoping to catch a thief red-handed and beat his ass.
Mayan tore his gaze away from Desiree long enough to resume his task. He stopped shy at the edge of the living room and I followed, freezing when I saw why.
“Hijos de puta,” I growled. Then I whirled on Lorena. “What son of a bitch did this?” It was chaos. The whole living room was trashed. The TV was blown to bits like it’d taken a fucking bat, the couch tore up to smithereens, tables and chairs overturned.
“I don’t know,” she signed as she spoke. “I got home and it was like this. But Desiree…” She turned to her friend, speaking directly to her now. “Did you see who it was?”
Desiree bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Her hands moved in rapid fire.
“‘I don’t know. I saw him out the window in the parking lot first. He wore a mask. It freaked me out.’” Lorena frowned. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
