Page 101 of Unbreakable Thread

Sol

I stand at the door with my hand on the frame. He smiles like someone who knew he’d already won something. “Rainey…or is it Sol?” he says mockingly. “Can I come in?” When I don’t answer him, he trails on. “I just got off a call with Max. He said you two were back together. It seems you two can’t separate. For years, I told him to move on before you two met at the cabin. He would speak of you so often that it became an annoyance. I never thought you two would find one another, but here you are…”

“Why in the hell do you dislike me so much? It’s not your damn business what we do with our lives. You’re just a man who taught him how to box to benefit you. You might have been there for him, but you’re not his father.”

“No, I’m not his drunk-ass father who’s out there dead somewhere.”

Oh, Max, didn’t tell him about his dad.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that you’re not what Max needs.”

I laugh. “And you know what Max needs? He would disagree in a heartbeat.” God, this man is crazy. From the corner of my eye, I see Hector standing with his arm crossed over his chest. His slitted eyes reveal just how angry he is.

“I do know what he needs. I’ve known Max longer than you think. He comes from generations of fighters. It’s in his blood. I trained him to be the best.”

My brows come together. Longer than sixteen? Max had said he was sixteen when he broke into the gym.

“Ahh, you didn’t know. Well, that story is for another day. What I need is for you not to distract Max.” His gaze slides to my bump. “I see you’re pregnant.”

I cover my stomach—Protecting it.

“Listen, it’s obvious you haven’t told Max anything, so let’s keep it that way. Because you wouldn’t want something to happen to your child or Leo,” he spits out.

“Fuck you, Carlos. I swear, if you come close to my baby and me, I’ll kill you myself.” I don’t give a shit if I spend a lifetime in jail as long as he’s far from my Max and our child. I’ll do what it takes to protect our family.

The asshole’s laughter falters and fades when Hector positions himself between us. I swear he gulps. Hector stands with his shoulders squared. He definitely has more height than Carlos.

Hector’s lips curl into something between a smile and a snarl. “Hello, old friend,” he says, and the words hang in the air like smoke. Months ago, when he yelled at me to leave, it was just noise. But this—this is different. His voice has dropped to a low, dark, measured tone. Hector stands at the doorway, blocking Carlos from entering the house.

I’m starting to piece it all together like a puzzle. These two had crossed paths, and it must have been years ago—before Max turned sixteen, like Max has mentioned—because there is an odd jarring to their interaction. And—“old friend” says it all.

“Hector, what are you doing here?”

“I live here with my son.”

“He didn’t say anything about you being here. He said you’ve been missing.” If we didn’t know he was a sleazeball, we would think his dipped brows meant he was saddened by Hector’s disappearance.

“I’ve been in rehab, but let’s cut the chit chat, Carlos. What’s this you’re doing…threatening my daughter-in-law and my unborn grandson?”

“How enlightening.” Carlos looks him up and down. “You show up out of nowhere. You’ve been out of his life for years. Then you go to rehab and return as a doting father.”

“I’m doing what I should have done, and now I’m sober and clear-headed. Come to find out, you are using my son as a weapon.” Hector laughs. “You were a shitty fighter. One of those who like to run their mouth but can’t hold it up in the ring. Were those wins pure luck, or did you fight dirty?”

Carlos’s nostrils flare.

“You’re one of those who likes to play dirty, so I have no doubt because how else would you have been kicked out? You kept it quiet,” Hector says.

Carlos juts his chin. “Who told you?”

My gaze keeps volleying back and forth between them.

Hector shrugs nonchalantly. “You’d be surprised what I’ve figured out. That’s why you’re after my son. You want the fame of training Luis Gonzalez and Oscar Cano’s grandson. You want to be a ‘famous trainer.’” Hector makes air quotes. “The trainer who is sought out. The one who is so famous he’s shitting out money.”

Carlos is tongue-tied, and so am I. I’m waiting to hear how they know one another.

“You know, trainers make dimes, and boxers make pennies. No, not Max. He has been challenged to fight. I see his name everywhere. It’s big. And what does that mean if he wins? He keeps moving up, and who will follow? You, Carlos. The more money Max makes, the more you make.”

Carlos grinds his teeth. “That’s right. I want money. Who doesn’t? But more than anything, I want what belonged to me. You took her from me. She was supposed to be mine.”