“Hey, I thought I was one of the good guys.”
“I’m just saying. I’m on your side.” Lourdes slips her hands in the crooks of our arms. “Let’s get something to drink. Alcohol always helps the medicine go down.”
“I thought that was sugar.” Angel laughs, but I can tell she’s nervous.
We’re halfway to the small bar in the opposite corner of the room when a stocky woman in a floor-length navy dress rushes up to us. “Carmie? Who is your guest?”
The woman has dark hair wrapped up in a loose bun. Her dress is strapless and full, and I’m guessing she’s connected to the birthday girl somehow.
Angel visibly swallows and blinks fast. “Valeria, this is my date. Deacon.”
Valeria smiles, holding out her hand. “How do you do, Deacon?”
“It’s really nice to meet you at last.” I take her hand and smile. “I’ve wanted to meet you a long time.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Did you go to school with Carmie?”
“No.”
“Do I know your parents?”
“I don’t think so. My family is Dring. I’m Deacon Dring.”
Valeria’s face pales, and she pulls her hand away. “Dring?” She cuts an angry glare at Angel, and everything seems to stop.
“You promised me—”
“It was eight years ago, Val.”
“You promised.” Valeria’s voice is a hiss. “I said you were not to talk to him.”
“I’m confused—” I step forward, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Do you know my family?”
Her expression is furious, and I’m ready to assure her I come in peace when a stern male voice from behind me interrupts.
“Carmelita?” Both Angel and Valeria stiffen. “What’s happening here? Who is this?”
Stepping to the side, I recognize Angel’s brother from New Hope. He’s dressed in a suit, and his dark brown hair is slicked back. His hands are on his waist.
I smile and hold out my hand, ready to make friends. “It’s Beto, right? Deacon Dring. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
For a moment, his expression is stone. Then his nostrils flare. “Deacon Dring?” His glance flickers from me to Angel and back. He assesses my outstretched hand like I’m holding out a giant cockroach. “What is a Dring doing in my home? Tell me, boy, what are you doing at our Treviño family gathering?”
My smile fades, and I lower my hand, standing straighter. It helps I’m taller than he is. “I’m not a boy, and I’m here with your sister. She’s my date.”
“Your date?” His eyes scan me up and down.
“Deacon is my friend.” Angel’s voice is firm, but I don’t like her calling me her friend. “I invited him here. We’ve known each other a long time. Am I not allowed to have guests in your home?”
Her brother’s eyes narrow on me again. “Not him.”
“You don’t even know him!” Her voice grows louder. “You can’t censor who I spend time with!”
“Mateo!” Beto flicks his wrist, and a dark-haired guy in a tan suit appears at his side. “My sister is tired. Take her to her room.”
The guy catches Angel’s arm, and she falls back, trying to pull away. “I am not a child!”
“Hang on just a minute.” I try to stop him, but Beto grabs me roughly by the lapels of my coat.
“You’re leaving now, Dring.”
I don’t like the way he says my last name, but I especially don’t like how tan suit is half-leading, half-carrying my girl to the curved staircase at the back of the room. Angel struggles to escape, and I’m ready to start throwing punches.
“Get off me.” My jaw is clenched.
Grabbing his wrists, I shove him back, but he’s strong and ready for a fight. Just as fast, he grabs me again, clutching my arms and shoving me towards the door.
“I said, get out of my house.” His voice is a snarl, and our faces are close.
Black eyes clash with mine. I don’t know why this is happening, but I’ll be damned if I let him come at me or treat his sister this way.
“I came here to make friends,” I grunt out the words, pushing against his grip. “But if your guy doesn’t take his hands off Angel, I’m going to kill him.”
“I’d expect nothing less of you,” Beto snaps, reminding me of a Doberman pinscher.
Our altercation is drifting through the room, and the kids on the dance floor have started to notice the commotion as well as the guests lining the walls. The music keeps playing, but nobody’s dancing. They’re forming a ring around us, and I can feel their eyes watching.
In my peripheral, I see Angel struggling against Mateo, and red fills my vision. “If you don’t call off that asshole—”
“Mateo is following my orders, which is what you’re about to do.”
“Beto, stop!” Angel makes a lunge to get past Mateo, but he catches her clumsily, causing her to fall to the floor.
She goes down hard against the polished stone, letting out a little cry of pain. Fire blazes in my chest, and I shove Beto off me with all my strength. He crashes against the wall, and I’m across the room, grabbing Mateo by the shoulder from where he’s bent over, trying to help her up.
I haul him up, landing a solid punch to his cheek.
“Fuck!” He falls back against the wall, crushing a small table and sending a vase of flowers flying.
Pain blasts through my hand, but I don’t care. I’ve got one focus, and it’s my girl. “Are you hurt?” Leaning down, I scoop her up.
She’s trembling, and her skirt is torn. Her eyeliner is smudged from her tears, and a knife twists in my stomach at the sight.
Now I’m fucking furious.
“Carmie!” A small voice wails from the opposite side of the room, and rapid footsteps close the distance as Sofia runs to her.
Angel leans down to pick up her niece, who’s also crying. “What’s happening Carmie? Why is everybody fighting?”
“Beto, for lord’s sake!” Valeria rushes to where we are, and she looks on the verge of tears herself. “Stop this now! You’re ruining Lo’s quinceañeara.”
Beto’s gaze flickers to where my hands are on his sister’s waist. He’s breathing hard, and I know he doesn’t give a shit if anyone’s crying or if he’s ruining the party.
“Get your hands off my sister.” It’s a menacing sound, low and cold.
Angel steps up beside me, putting her hand on my arm. “I brought Deacon here to meet you. To make friends. If you talk to him, you’ll see he’s good. You’ll like him.”
Her voice is pleading, but I see the ice in her brother’s eyes. Everything inside me tenses, preparing to fight.
“We do not make friends with Drings.” He’s breathing fast, his voice gravelly. “He is not welcome here.”
Mateo is beside him, glaring at me with hatred in his eyes. I see what looks like the start of a shiner at the top of his cheek, and it makes me smile. I’m ready to give them a matching set.
“Then I’m not welcome here.” Angel’s voice turns hard, and I glance down at her. Her amber eyes flicker with golden fire, and the strength I’ve always known she possessed rises in her posture.