Mad Dog

Celeste

I think I’ve seen a ghost. I’m barely aware that Leo just punched Gustavo and has him pinned to the wall of the tattoo shop, because I can’t tear my eyes away from him. Maddox Santos is back. How long has he been back? He looks rougher than I remember—more rugged, with the same deep tan and dark brown hair, though his hair’s shorn close to his skull and his eyes carry a hint of darkness they didn’t have the last time I saw him. But it’s been more than a decade. People can change a lot in that time. I’ve changed, I know that much.

A crash and the sound of breaking glass rip me out of my shock. Gustavo throws Leo off-balance and they land on the floor. One of the photographs has fallen, the glass shattered into shards that scatter under Leo’s bare torso. Gustavo straddles his hips, fists swinging. Leo blocks with one bare arm, snagging Gustavo’s wrist and twisting. In a second, he turns the tables, lurching up and slamming Gustavo to the floor facedown, hand gripping one side of his head, pressing his face against the broken glass. Gustavo struggles and bucks, yelling in rage as blood wells beneath his face. The other two men who remained inside with us, Benny and Baz Quiñones, seem either too stunned or too entertained by the fight to react.

“You don’t deserve to touch her, you son of a bitch! You shouldn’t have even brought her here!”

Leo glances up at me once, his eyes lit with rage and his black curls flying. I’m stunned by how beautiful he is, how wild, until it hits me that he thinks he’s defending me. Instantly, my appreciation turns into irritation, then anger.

“Stop!” I cry. I stomp over and grab Leo’s arm, startled by his heat but holding on and tugging just the same. Benny and Baz finally snap out of it and move in to help. “He brought me because I asked him to, Leo. Get off him now!”

My touch snaps him out of whatever berserker rage grips him. He hops to his feet and turns toward me, crowding close. He cups my face and peers into my eyes. My breath catches at the intensity in his brown eyes. I think he’s about to kiss me, which would be an epic mistake. The man he just beat up has the unhealthy opinion that I somehow belong to him. This could go even more sideways than it already has.

I shoot Maddox a silent plea for sanity to prevail here if he can make it happen. But Leo pulls back as if he’s touched an open flame, putting distance between us. I flinch at the sudden shift in his demeanor. The wild passion that had gripped him must have clouded his judgment just long enough for me to see something different—something I wish I saw more often from him.

“Are you fucking crazy, Celeste? There are people in this city who’d stop at nothing to get back at Papa Flores and use you to do it. Why isn’t Manny with you?”

I don’t see the point in correcting him. Those enemies might have existed a few years ago, but my father’s dealt with everyone in Los Angeles who could truly harm us, and my need for a bodyguard twenty-four seven isn’t as dire as it used to be. The only real enemy Papa still has is in Mexico, and as far as I know he doesn’t set foot in Los Angeles at all anymore.

“I gave Manny the night off. I don’t need to be protected just to visit buildings we own.”

“You don’t think she’s safe with me?” Gustavo challenges. He pushes himself to his feet, hand cupping his cheek. Blood wells between his fingers and his eyes are black with anger. Leo’s the one in real danger, but I don’t think he realizes it at the moment.

I grit my teeth as I step between the two angry men.

“My safety isn’t an issue, got it? I came with Gustavo because I wanted his opinion on something.” I dart a glance at Maddox, opting not to divulge the reason for this visit.

My father’s organization owns several properties downtown, including this building, which has been on our books for thirty years. Situated on a busy corner near downtown, it’s an old two-story building that was once an auto-body shop. The space was repurposed years ago to house a dance studio, which still takes up the majority of the first floor. Evidently, Maddox has turned a portion of it into a tattoo shop within the past year. The building sits on a piece of land worth millions, yet Papa has made no move to sell despite it clearly being the most financially sound decision. My hope was that bringing Gustavo down here to assess the place would help me convince Papa it’s time to let it go and invest the money elsewhere. Since real estate is the biggest piece of our legitimate income, we can’t let opportunities like this lie fallow.

Maddox’s presence here is unexpected, though, and changes everything. I hadn’t expected to be bombarded with old memories, even though this place holds a lot of important ones. I was ready to let them go and move on with my life until I stepped through that door. But Leo and Gustavo are barely able to contain their animosity, and my interference is losing its effect. Thankfully, Maddox steps up and claps a hand on Leo’s shoulder, steering him to one of the chairs nearby. Benny and Baz close in around Leo, who is more of an idol to them than Gustavo is, thank God, and settle down beside him.

“Sit and cool off for a second while I handle this.” Maddox glances at me, then his eyes slide to Gustavo. “You want to come back and let me take a look at those cuts?”

Gustavo gives him a wary look, and Maddox’s eyes narrow. The pair don’t act like strangers by any stretch. There’s a chance they’ve met already—under much more violent circumstances.

After a beat, Gustavo nods. He grabs my hand as he rounds the counter to follow Maddox, shooting Leo a challenging look as he drags me along with him. I’m too stunned by the circumstances to resist, and as much as I want to check on Leo, I’m far more curious about the tattooed man who has returned to haunt my life, the ghost of a past I thought long buried.

That it’s him shouldn’t surprise me. His mother holds the lease on the dance studio and has for decades. What surprises me is that he’s even ~here~. I haven’t seen him since we were teens.

He’s all action when he directs Gustavo to sit, then heads to a cabinet and hauls out a large, dun-colored backpack and proceeds to pull out supplies. Turning once, he scrutinizes Gustavo’s bleeding lip and bruised knuckles.

“I’m going to kill that fucker,” Gustavo mutters.

Maddox meets my eyes, his lips pressed into a grim line before redirecting his attention to Gustavo. He probably knows Gustavo doesn’t make idle threats.

He pulls Gustavo’s hand away from his face, places gauze over it, and presses tight for a second, then pulls it away again. I wince at the fresh flow of blood that wells from a deep cut slicing across the top of Gustavo’s cheek.

“Hold this tight,” Maddox says, and Gustavo takes over pressing the blood-soaked gauze to his cheek while Maddox fishes in his kit for more supplies.

What the hell was Leo thinking? Gustavo calls the shots for my father’s men, Leo and his brother Manny included, when they aren’t on task to watch me. He has the means to destroy Leo for what just happened, so now it’ll fall to me to deter him. Thankfully, Gustavo is an easy man to manipulate.

“He’s just being protective of me. You know he has good reason.” I step close and grab his hand and squeeze. Some of the anger in his eyes dissipates. He remembers the rash of attacks on my father’s properties by a gang that thought it could challenge his control. It came to a head when they tried—and failed—to kidnap me several years ago. If Leo hadn’t been there, they might have succeeded.

“You know I would kill for you if Papa asked me to. Even this fucker knows that.” His gaze slips back to Maddox, whose jaw clenches. “Papa Flores protects what’s his.” He juts his chin forward, as if his word carries the weight of the man who gives him orders. I want to retch at how much of an ass-kisser he’s always been, but he’s easier to deal with if he thinks I’m on his side.

Maddox returns with a moist square and lifts it up. “This’ll sting.” He’s matter-of-fact when he swipes it across Gustavo’s wound, then pinches the broken skin together. He swipes a smear of ointment across the oozing gash, then applies several small bandages that hold the two sides of the wound closed. “You’d do better with stitches, but these will work if you leave it alone for a couple days. Just keep it clean.”

As he’s packing up, Gustavo tilts his chin to the bag. “Is that legit? You were a Navy medic?”

Maddox doesn’t seem keen on talking; he just nods and stows the bag in a closet. Then he ushers us back out front, where the younger guy who greeted us is sweeping glass shards into a dustpan. Leo sits between Benny and Baz, elbows on his knees, and looks up when we enter. His jaw twitches when he sees Gustavo, then relaxes when he looks at me. I give him an apologetic smile. I knew he was going to be here. I could have warned him in advance of my plans to visit.

Maddox is facing Gustavo, arms crossed. “If you came for a tattoo, I’m booked for the evening, but my assistant would be happy to set you up with an appointment.” He shoots a pointed look at his assistant, who looks every bit like a younger, longer-haired clone of Maddox himself. “Sam,” he says, nodding at the kid, “do what I fucking pay you for, will you?”

Maddox motions for Leo and the pair disappear back through the doors while Sam scowls after them. “You don’t fucking pay me, asshole,” he mutters, then turns a charming smile toward us. “So, yeah, you want an appointment or something?”

“Not sure it’s worth it if I’m going to get a beating just for walking in the door,” Gustavo says.

I bite my tongue, annoyance at Gustavo’s manhandling returning despite the revelations of the evening. My status as the daughter of Arturo Flores limits my awareness of social happenings to the upper echelon of LA society. I wouldn’t normally venture downtown on a Saturday night, though not out of any sense of self-preservation, unless I count not wanting to piss off my dad. I came because I’d heard someone had opened a tattoo shop, and it was the perfect excuse to visit the building with Gustavo, who could be more easily enticed with tattoos than the prospect of visiting during daytime hours when the dance studio is filled with young girls in pink tutus. Maddox’s presence here shouldn’t deter me from investigating why we haven’t sold this building yet, but now I’m more interested in finding out what he’s been doing for the past decade.

“Actually, I’d like to make an appointment.” I step up to the counter and smile at mini-Maddox. Up close, he’s just as big as his brother. He just lacks the sharp edges and multitude of tattoos.

“Yeah?” he says, grinning at me.

“I’m not letting you get a fucking tattoo, Celeste,” Gustavo says, grabbing my arm. I glare back at him and tear my arm out of his grasp.

“Is he free a week from tomorrow?” I ask Sam, choosing not to give Gustavo the courtesy of a reply. I don’t even want a tattoo. I already have one tiny tattoo of a flower on the inside of my right wrist. I love it and never intend to get more. I just want a chance to talk to Maddox again after all this time. He and Leo looked close too, and that kind of friendship doesn’t happen overnight.

“We don’t open until noon. How’s that sound?” Sam asks.

“Perfect.” I tap the appointment into my phone, turn, and stride out, evading Gustavo’s hand again as he reaches for me. Benny and Baz circle around and run interference, flanking me and giving Gustavo the evil eye.

“Just because Leo’s brother’s nailing your best friend doesn’t give him the right to fucking touch you, Celeste,” Gustavo snaps. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Neither do you. He condescends to me in a way not even my own father does, but I just grit my teeth as we make our way toward the car. We’re halfway down the block when a sleek black SUV pulls up and comes to a stop on the street, causing the driver behind it to honk. My neck prickles and my skin warms with shame, as if the man inside will know I’ve just made plans to meet the first boy he punished for daring to touch me. The rear window slides down on the passenger side. I want to keep walking, but if I do, I’ll catch hell later.

I take a deep breath and turn. My father stares out at me, nods to Gustavo, and says, “Get in, mija.”

Stepping off the curb, I wait for Papa to open the door, then climb in when he slides across the black leather seat to make room. It’s dark and cool inside and smells of expensive aftershave and the faint, sweet tobacco of my father’s cigars. Classical guitar music plays low from the speakers, and I relax once we pull into traffic and Gustavo’s battered face disappears into the distance.

We sit in silence for several minutes before he asks, “Do you remember your dance teacher, Marcella Santos?”

I blink and turn to him in surprise. “What?”

He tilts his head back the way we came. “Did you know you were just at her studio? She still teaches there, I hear.”

Of course, I know this, and he knows I know. “What I know is that you’ve held on to that building longer than any other piece of property in the city. Don’t play games with me. What’s this about?”

“If you remember her, then you must remember her oldest son. You two were very close once.”

A lump forms in my throat when he turns a piercing gaze on me. The subtext is clear: too close. Is it possible he kept the building to hold over the Santos family? I wouldn’t put it past him. I narrow my eyes. “Yes, we were. But that was just teenage infatuation. It’s ancient history.”

He nods as if my answer satisfies him, but I sense more coming. “His father, Julian, has always been a wildcard. Unpredictable. Violent.”

“Are you just saying that because he refused to work for you?”

My directness doesn’t faze him. He waves off my suggestion. “Even if he tried, I wouldn’t hire him, because I couldn’t trust him. I don’t trust his sons either.”

“You don’t even know them.”

“They abandoned their mother to enlist in the military. I know that much. They followed in their father’s footsteps. They are their father’s sons.”

I have no idea where this is coming from, other than a misplaced need to deter me from reaching out to Maddox. My father isn’t oblivious; if I know Maddox is back, Papa probably knew weeks ago. I try not to let my curiosity get the better of me, but I can’t help it.

“When did he get back?”

“A year ago. He was a decorated Navy corpsman before being honorably discharged, but that doesn’t make him safe to be around.”

It doesn’t make him worthy of me is what he means. I grit my teeth, weary of this back and forth we do whenever my father senses me getting close to a man, but I don’t want to just let it lie. “And Gustavo is evidently safer,” I deadpan.

He lets out a soft snort and looks at me. “Are you in danger of falling in love with Gustavo?” One dark eyebrow rises.

“Dios. Hell no. He’s too old for me anyway.”

Papa laughs and pats my hand. “Then, yes. He’s safer.”

I close my eyes, feeling the hurt of the distance he forces me to keep more acutely than ever. I love my father dearly and trust that he would do everything in his power to protect me. But he’s been like this ever since Mama died, driving wedges between me and any man who gets close enough for me to form an attachment to. As a result, the men allowed into my life are limited.

Leo and Manny were the first men he let close, but only in their capacity as bodyguards. They’ve become friends but still keep a safe emotional distance. If I didn’t have my best friend, Toni, I’d be utterly alone, and ever since she and Manny started dating, Leo and his brother have felt more like close friends than employees. The other two men in my life are Toni’s younger brothers, twins Benny and Baz. The five of them are the only true friends I have. They’re the closest I have to family besides my father, though Leo still tends to maintain a safe distance, as if he’s afraid of getting too close. I don’t encourage him to get any closer, because men who do only wind up hurt . . . or dead.

Whether Leo considers me a friend or just Arturo Flores’ daughter, I couldn’t say, but he’s better off maintaining the safe distance and letting his brother and Toni remain as buffers between us.

“I can’t live my life like this,” I whisper.

“It’s necessary if you want to do this job, mija. You expressed the desire to be part of this business early on, and I have encouraged your participation, but you know it comes at a cost. You are as passionate as your mother was about the things that matter, and that passion can be both a source of power and weakness. When you can learn to control it, things will be different. Until then, anyone you let in becomes a liability. Your mother was mine, and I paid the price. I won’t let you make that mistake.”

I look away, the reminder of my mother’s death still able to draw forth despair intense enough to bring tears to my eyes. It’s been eighteen years, but I still have so many questions—questions Papa refuses to answer.

I can barely remember her face. But I do remember the wreck of a man my father became after her death, and how long it took him to recover. The silver lining during that time was his encouragement of my dancing, which meant spending more time with Maddox, something I secretly loved. For the next seven years, I had another friend besides Toni. Someone who was all mine. Only to have that ripped away from me when the two of us made a mistake.

This isn’t the first time Papa has blamed his shortcomings on his love for her, but I don’t believe he really means it. I inhale to regain my composure and return my gaze to him.

“Is that all she was to you? A liability? Is that what I am to you now?”

“Loving her wasn’t the mistake. It was trusting her welfare to a man who wasn’t willing to die to protect her. Never let your guard down with any of the men you spend time with, especially the ones I pay to protect you. Their loyalty can shift if the price is right.”

I suppress a shiver. Gustavo might be willing to kill for my father’s money, but would he be willing to die for me? Should I expect that of any man? Because if I get close enough, that’s what they’re signing up for.

I think about my appointment with Maddox for next weekend. I should cancel it, but some stubborn part of me refuses. One visit. A conversation to hear from his own lips how he’s doing. That’s all I want. My father can’t begrudge me that, especially if he never knows.