Be Mine Forever (Brothers From Money #2)

by Shanade White

  Be Mine Forever

  Brothers From Money 2

  A complete BWWM marriage story, brought to you by Shanade White of BWWM Club. Features another free bonus book.

  Leslie is a successful physical therapist who loves her job.

  But her life’s thrown into turmoil when she witnesses a murder by a Russian mob boss.

  The police want her to testify against him, and she agrees, but has to leave everything behind and live somewhere totally new.

  Not wanting to twiddle her thumbs waiting for the case, she scores a job as a therapist with a professional football team.

  And soon she’s falling for hot player Sebastian.

  They have an instant connection, and soon it’s blossoming into something hot and heavy.

  Things seem to be looking up, but one day a Russian gunman fires a shot in her direction, narrowly missing her.

  They’ve found her.

  Leslie and Sebastian go on the run, fleeing to his family’s ranch.

  But his family won’t help her if they’re not married.

  And the Russians are closing in by the minute.

  Will Leslie and Sebastian’s love survive?

  In fact, will they survive at all?

  Find out in this gripping, sexy romance by Shanade White of BWWM Club.

  Suitable for over 18s only due to sex scenes so hot, you’ll desire your own firm, billionaire football player!

  Tip: Search BWWM Club on Amazon to see more of our great books.

  Get Another BWWM eBook Free!

  Hi there. As a special thank you for buying this ebook, for a limited time I want to send you another one completely free of charge directly to your email! You can get it by clicking the cover below or going here:

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  Copyright © 2016 to Shanade White and AfroRomanceBooks.com. No part of this book can be copied or distributed without written permission from the above copyright holders.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Free Book – My Russian Hero

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

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  Chapter 1

  It was six o’clock in the morning and Leslie was barely awake, of all the things she disliked about her new job, this was by far one of the biggest. It wasn’t the early hour that she disliked, it was the fact that she would be cooped up inside for the entire day. Had she been looking forward to a day of sunshine and fresh air, she would have had a great deal more enthusiasm for her first day at her new job.

  The fact that it was a job she’d have never thought of applying for, let alone accepting had made the move to Colorado all that more difficult. But she’d had no choice, it was either this job or nothing, and she couldn’t imagine spending the next six months hiding in some safe house, waiting to testify. She had badgered and brow beat her handler, Michael Simmons until he’d found her this position with the Tigers.

  She couldn’t blame him for fighting her so hard on the issue, it was his job to keep her safe. He’d wanted to find her a job in retail or hospitality where she could blend in with the crowds. But she’d refused. She was proud of her Master’s Degree in sports therapy, she’d worked hard to get it and wasn’t about to spend the next six months, serving food or stocking shelves.

  He’d finally relented when he’d found her this job, which offered the kind of security that he knew would help keep her safe. She’d had to promise that she would never set foot in the stadium during the games, which she’d gladly agreed to. Football was definitely at the bottom of her list when it came to sports. The truth was, she wasn’t much of a sports fan at all.

  Growing up she’d spend more time with horses than most of her friends, she’d been riding since she could walk and still loved it. In fact, her horse was one of the things she missed most about her current home, her little apartment in the city wasn’t the place to keep a horse. Michael probably wouldn’t have let her ride it anyway.

  Ever since that night in Las Vegas, her world had shrunk to the small apartment and the training room at the Tiger’s training facility. She’d had to leave everything and everyone who was important behind her. The memories of that night still brought a blush to her cheeks, to think that she’d put herself in such a stupid position was just as humiliating today as it’d been that night.

  It was ironic to think that trying to make a smart decision and not getting a tattoo when she’d been seriously buzzed, had stripped her of the life she’d worked so hard to create. At only 23, she’d been one of the first African American women to earn a coveted Master’s Degree in physical therapy from UCLA.

  From there she’d gone on to work with one of the most renowned horse therapy organizations in the country, where she worked with a wide variety of people, including both kids and adults. It had long been her passion to bring the healing power of horses to patients, the power of which she witnessed many times. Together with the right physical therapy, many who came to them with serious injuries often left, greatly improved.

  But, now she’d been using those hard won skills to heal a bunch of football players, something she’d never thought of doing in a million years. As she was walking down the gray hallway, her phone buzzed. Looking down she saw that it was Michael, probably checking up on her, this was her first day and he knew she wasn’t all that happy to be here.

  “Hi, Michael. What’s up?”

  “Just wanted to touch base with you. Today’s the big day.”

  “I’m thrilled to death....” She said, then realizing the words she used, stopped speaking.

  “I know it’s hard, to give up your life and create a new one, but it’s not forever. This thing will come to an end. You just have to hang in there and follow my instructions and you’ll be fine.”

  “I know, I know. But it still sucks that I’m the innocent one in all this and I have to live like a prisoner.”

  “I wish there was an alternative, Leslie, but these are bad people with a lot of reach. The only way to keep you safe is for you to disappear for a while.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to you later Michael. I know what I have to do, I’ll keep my head down and try to be invisible.”

  “If you need anything, call me.”

  “I will.” She said, ending the call.

  As she continued on her journey through the long gray tunnel that connected the secure player parking area with the training facility, she thought back to the night her life had been changed forever. The night everything she’d worked so hard to build, had come crashing down in one single act of violence that would have lasting consequences for everyone involved.

  What was to have been a crazy night on the town for her and her friends, had instead altered her life in ways that could never be forgotten or changed. They’d gone to Las Vegas for a girl’s weekend, it had been two years since they’d seen each other and Vegas had seemed like a great place to reconnect. Each had flown in from a different part of the country, arriving Thursday night, giving
them a full three days of fun in sin city.

  By Friday night, they were all tipsy, having spent the better part of the afternoon and evening drinking and gambling. But as midnight approached, they’d found themselves bored with the casinos and looking for something to do. Someone had suggested that they all get tattoos to commemorate their trip.

  “We could get them someplace where they won’t show.” Her friend Amanda had suggested.

  “No way. I promised myself that if I ever got a tattoo I’d be sober when I did it.” Leslie had protested. “But I’ll go with you guys and watch.”

  “Chicken. Who else is in?” Amanda said, turning to the others in the group.

  Leslie hadn’t been the only one to decide against the tattoo, the group had been equally split. Three for the tattoo and three against, so they’d all piled into a cab and headed for the tattoo parlor Amanda had heard about from some friends back in New York.

  When they arrived, they discovered that it was in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, next door to a seedy looking bar. “Amanda, are you sure this is the right place?” Leslie had asked, not sure if it was a good idea to even get out of the car.

  “Yep, I called on the way over. This is it. The guy said, the neighborhood isn’t as bad as it looks. He’s been here for years.” She’d said, getting out of the car.

  They all followed her into the tattoo parlor which was surprisingly clean and nice inside. They were met in the reception area by the tattoo artist, Mark, who escorted them to the back, where he would do the tattoos. Amanda volunteered to go first, chose her design and settled in.

  After only a few minutes of watching Mark use the tattoo gun on Amanda, Leslie was surprised to find that she was beginning to feel a little faint. It had been a long day and it was hot in the little room with all of them packed in there. Knowing that it would be hours before the tattoos were done, she decided that waiting in the bar might not be a bad idea.

  “Anyone else want to go next door to the bar with me?” She’d asked, the group.

  “I’m in.” Michelle and Kathy had chimed out together.

  They had slipped out the front door and walked the few feet to the front door of the bar next door. Leslie had taken a few deep breaths and immediately felt better, surprised that the tattoo had bothered her so much. But, she felt better now and her friends were taking dainty sips from a bottle one of them had produced from her purse.

  Taking a drink, she led them into the bar, laughing at a joke one of the other girls had made. They were greeted with a sudden silence, every eye in the place turning to them as they crossed the room. Even as buzzed as she was, Leslie could immediately sense the tension in the room. The bartender glared at them, then looked to a table in the back of the room.

  Leslie could see a group of four men seated at a large table, they were all dressed alike in charcoal gray suits that barley covered their bulk. She knew that they’d stumbled into a place they had no reason to be and that her next move would be critical. Even as buzzed as she was, it hadn’t escaped her attention that someone had moved to block the door.

  Heart beating in her chest, she summoned up her best southern bell persona, the one she used when she wanted a man to do something for her and said. “Gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting your evening, but our friends are getting tattoos and I’m afraid I became a bit faint.” She put her hand to her chest, then fanned herself as if needed to cool off.

  Her act had already begun to put the men at ease so she continued the ruse, “Boys if we could just have a quick drink, I’m sure I’ll feel better and we can be on our way. I would be happy to buy the house a round, it’s the least I can do.” She said, pulling her credit card out of the bodice of her dress. She had crossed the room and slapped it on the bar, making sure to use her generous curves to her advantage.

  The bartender looked to one of the men seated at the table in the back and received a slight nod. The tension in the room immediately dissipated and conversation resumed. Leslie’s knees had been shaking so much she’d hardly made it to a stool before they gave out. Her friends took a seat on either side of her, looking a little pale.

  The rush she’d gotten when the danger they’d been in had registered, had immediately sobered her up. When the bartender poured them all a shot, she hadn’t hesitated to down half of it in one gulp. It had burned like fire, making her eyes water and stealing her breath.

  “Nothing like a good Russian vodka to make you know you’re alive. That first sting is always the best.” The bartender had said, seeing her reaction. “But that’s some powerful stuff little lady, better take it easy.”

  She could feel the alcohol warming her body, taking the chill she’d felt, away. Breathing a sigh of relief, she said. “Okay, we just need to nurse these drinks for a few minutes then thank them and leave. Thank goodness I won that jackpot today, I can just imagine how much that round cost me. I’m going to kill Amanda for dragging us down here.”

  She could feel the stack of hundred dollar bills she’d taped to the inside of the thigh, realizing how stupid she was to have not a least left it in the hotel room. But after she’d hit the jackpot, $25,000 to be exact, she’d wanted to see it and had cashed out, putting the tax money in an escrow account provided by the casino.

  Then she’d taken the remainder of the money in cash, promising herself she’d put it in the hotel safe before they left the hotel for the night. By the time they’d left their rooms, the vault was closed and she’d been too scared to leave it in the room. She’d done the only thing she could think of and taped it to the inside of her thigh with medical tape.

  She’d just decided that it was time for them to make their escape, the bartender had brought her the credit card slip to which she’d added a generous tip, and they’d all finished their drinks. The bartender was at the back of the bar, talking to the men at the table, but turned and headed straight toward her as she got to her feet.

  “Mr. Starikov would like you to join him at his table for a drink.” He said, offering her his arm. It was more of an order than a request, so she took his arm and followed him to the back.

  They had made space for her at the table. After she was settled, the bartender put a decanter of what she assumed was vodka on the table. It was clearly ice cold, condensation running down the side. He set out glasses for everyone at the table, then filled each glass and left.

  Her friends had remained at the bar, nursing a second drink that the bartender had poured for them. She could tell that they wanted to leave, but didn’t think they should leave her there alone with those men. Silently signaling them to leave and get help she turned back to the men at the table. Out of the corner of her eyes she watched them leave, which was difficult, but instead of panicking, she calmed herself and turned to face her hosts.

  Raising his glass to her, he said. “Thank you for joining us. It’s not every day we get to spend time with a beautiful woman.”

  Leslie realized that her best option was to play along, her friends would come to her rescue soon enough, so she raised her glass and took a small sip of the clear liquor. It burned going down, just as much now as before. Looking up, she realized that Mr. Starikov was watching her.

  “Thank you.” She managed to squeak out, once the burn from the liquor was gone.

  All the men at the table burst into laughter. “I see you’re not used to our Russian vodka. I have to admit that it can be quite powerful if you’re not used to it, but there is nothing better in the world. This vodka was made at my family distillery in the home country, it’s very nice. Don’t you think?” He said, adding more to her glass.

  “Yes, it is. I appreciate your generosity. I haven’t ever had real Russian vodka.” She said, having no idea what else to say.

  She must have hit on a topic her host loved, because as soon as the words were out of her mouth, he launched into a long lecture about the superiority of Russian vodka. The other men at the table must have heard it
many times, because although they betrayed nothing outwardly, they’d exchanged a quick glance, then settled back in their chairs as if they planned to be there for a while.

  She listened as best she could, while the alcohol swam in her blood, her intoxication building. It was clear that her host expected her to join them in each shot they took, and even though she only took a small sip each time, she was well on her way to becoming quite drunk.

  “So tell me what you think now about my country’s vodka. Is it not the best you’ve ever had?” He asked.

  “It is the best I’ve ever had.” She’d answered. “But I think I’ve already had a bit too much, it’s very strong and I’m not much of a drinker.” Even she could hear how slurred her words were. She had begun to wonder where her friends were, she’d assumed they would come to her rescue as soon as they could.

  “Nonsense, the night is young.” He said, emptying his glass once again, then looking at Leslie.

  She felt forced to take another small sip, but the instant it hit her stomach, she knew that it was going to come back up. “Oh, please excuse me.” She said, stumbling to her feet. “I need to find the bathroom.”

  As she made her shaky way to the bathroom, trying to control her stomach long enough to not embarrass herself, she heard the men laughing. “Stupid American’s, can’t hold their vodka. Lock her in the bathroom, until we’re done here, then I’ll have some fun with her.” Mr. Starikov said over the laughter.

  As drunk as she was, the words still penetrated her brain, clearing it enough to quickly come up with a plan. Seeing a back door, she opened the bathroom door, twisted the lock then shut it loudly. She then stumbled to the back door and slid out as quietly as she could, the alley she found herself in was shrouded in darkness. Breathing a sigh of relief she started toward the street, but her stomach was still protesting the alcohol.

  Knowing she was going to throw up and soon, she stumbled behind the dumpsters in the alley and threw up all that precious Russian vodka onto the pavement. The violence of it had left her drained and she had leaned against the building next door collecting herself for a few minutes.