by Roxie Rivera
“He’s wanted her for a long time, but she doesn’t want him.”
“Were they involved?”
“From what I know of their history, she’s done everything possible to stay away from him. She’s not like her sister. She doesn’t have a taste for the gangster life.”
“Smart girl.” Nikolai unlocked the door. “I’ll be in touch soon. Whatever evidence you have can be dropped off at the new warehouse. Boychenko is waiting for you. He’ll ride escort for any other business you need to handle tonight.”
“I have to go by Shay’s place to get some things she needs.”
“Where does she live?”
“In one of Spider’s parks.”
Nikolai’s eyes widened fractionally. Was the boss trying to work out why Shay was still living on her own? It wasn’t his usual arrangement with the women in his life. In fact, it was more similar to Nikolai’s and Vivian’s.
From what Alexei knew of Vivian, she had lived on her own, paying her own bills and taking very little from Nikolai, until she had been kidnapped. Only then did she move under Nikolai’s roof. Vivian was the virginal matriarch of the family, untouched and unknown by any man except her husband. The men who guarded her day and night would swear on their mothers that the couple never shared a bed or were alone until the night after they were married.
It was too old-fashioned for Alexei’s tastes, but he understood why it had to be that way for Nikolai and Vivian. Even if the boss’s wife wasn’t known for her religious devotion and her conservative values, she would have been held to a higher standard. Nikolai simply couldn’t have a wife with a complicated history of lovers. His position within the family wouldn’t allow it.
The thought of lovers and histories unsettled Alexei. Had Shay known true love? Was there a man out there somewhere who still owned her heart? Was he competing for her affection against ghosts he could never best? As beautiful and interesting and intelligent as she was, Shay must have had no problem attracting good men. Better men than me, he thought crossly.
“I’ll talk to Spider and square things. You two were friends back when you handled all the gun runs from Liam. I assume that friendship still stands?”
“It does.”
“Good. That will be useful to you. There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“I want the balance of Boychenko’s debt to you wiped.”
“Done.” With a sigh, he said, “Kolya, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.”
Nikolai actually grinned. “You? Me? Two gangs who want to take us out? It’s like old times, huh?”
“Yeah,” Alexei replied with a wry smile. “Except this time we’re too old for this shit and have too much on the line to lose.”
Nikolai’s gaze softened. “Sometimes too much to lose gives us a better reason to fight.” He angled his head toward the kitchen. “I like her. She reminds me of Vee.”
Alexei figured that was the highest compliment the boss could pay.
“She’s a good choice. She suits you.” Nikolai whacked his back with a series of hard claps. “But, Lyosha, get her the hell out of this apartment. This is the place you fucked your strippers. Your future wife shouldn’t have stepped foot in this apartment.”
The comment was a stark reminder that Nikolai was one of those old school gangsters who still had very black and white ideas. There were women you fucked, and there were women you married. Period. Full stop. The two pools were never supposed to overlap.
Nikolai opened the door and stepped into the hall. He adjusted his hood to make sure his face was covered. Alexei waited until Nikolai disappeared from view to step back into the apartment and lock the door.
When he returned to the kitchen, he found Shay slumped forward, her shoulders rounded with defeat, as she sobbed helplessly. The heartbroken weeping cut him deeply. Moved by the sadness engulfing her, he quickly ate up the floor with long strides.
Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her off the chair and onto the counter. He tucked her wet cheek against his shirt and combed his fingers through her damp hair. She clung to his shoulders and sobbed.
“Ptichka.” Kissing the top of her head, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what she needed or how to help her. Nothing he could say would make any of this easier. “Shay, it’s all right. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. God, I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry for getting you in trouble and dragging you into this. I shouldn’t have—”
“Hush,” he whispered gently. “Don’t apologize to me about this. We’re fine.”
She exhaled a shuddery breath and burrowed in closer. The move sent his heartbeat into overdrive. She needed love and comfort tonight. It would be so easy to seduce her but he refused to take the choice from her. Shay’s life was unraveling, and right now, she needed to have control over the most important decisions.
The apartment phone rang. With an irritated sigh, Alexei kissed Shay’s temple and left her on the counter so he could answer it. “Yes?”
“Sir, there’s a man in the lobby who says he’s one of your guests. His name is Stas.”
“Send him up, Carlos.”
“Yes, sir.”
The call finished, he turned back to find Shay sitting there with her hands clamped between her knees. He plucked a napkin from a drawer and used it to dab away the shiny streaks on her face. “No more crying tonight.”
She sniffled and nodded meekly. “All right.”
He placed the napkin on the counter and then cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. With every intimate touch she allowed, his craving for her increased in potency. Much more of this and he was going to spontaneously combust.
“A friend of mine is going to watch you while I go take care of some things.”
“A friend?”
“His name is Stas. He’s trusted and safe, but I know you’ve been through hell tonight so I’ll make sure he gives you some space.” Wanting her to feel comfortable, he picked up his bag and dug through it until he found the red hooded sweatshirt showcasing the Ivan’s logo. “Here. Put this on. You’re so short it will reach your knees.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her arms and let him glide it into place over her head. He reached into the open neck and pulled free her hair. The floral scent of the shampoo from the toiletry basket wafted from her hair, and it momentarily confused him. She was supposed to smell of beaches and sunshine, not generic flowers.
A knock at the door announced Stas’ arrival. The man he let into the apartment looked like a street brawler with his stocky build. He had a scruffy beard and the coldest gray eyes Alexei had ever seen. There were no tattoos on his fingers or hands but intricate sleeves covered his arms. The ink that peeked out from the collar of his shirt and curled along the side of his neck gave Alexei a brief rundown of the man’s history.
“Alexei Romanovich,” Stas greeted respectfully.
Alexei shook the street soldier’s hand but didn’t let go immediately. He held tight and tugged the man off-balance. “Nikolai vouches for you, but I don’t know you. So here’s the deal. If I come back here and Shay is upset or you’ve done anything that makes her uncomfortable, I start breaking fingers. When I’m done with fingers, I move to bigger bones. Understand?”
“Perfectly,” Stas assured him. “I’m not here to cause problems. I’m here to work. I’m here to earn my place. You tell me what you want—and it’s done. No questions asked.”
Thinking of how much Stas reminded him of his younger days, Alexei let go of the street soldier’s hand. He had been hungry to prove himself once. Hungry men were loyal men, and Alexei knew exactly how to ensure Stas did what was necessary to keep Shay safe. “If you keep her happy and out of trouble, I’ll pay you a bonus at the end of each day. Cash,” he clarified. “Under the table and off the books.”
“Deal.” Stas glanced around the luxurious apartment. “The boss didn’t mention what sort of arrangement you have with your�
�mistress.”
“You don’t need to worry about the arrangement I have with Shay. You just need to worry about how you’ll keep her safe when I’m not here.”
Stas held up a hand. “Hey, I’m not trying to get into your business. I just wanted to know if I need to worry about being ambushed by a pissed off wife or another girlfriend.”
Wondering what sort of men Stas had worked for back in Brighton Beach, he shook his head. “There is no one else. There is only Shay.”
“Well that makes this job a hell of a lot easier. I know how to deal with hostile crews and hit squads but wives and girlfriends?” He whistled low. “That shit gets real fast.”
Alexei could only imagine. He gestured for Stas to follow him into the apartment. Shay stood next to the kitchen island and warily eyed the new face trailing him. He didn’t blame her. She had probably had quite enough of big, tattooed men for one night. Fuck. She had probably had enough of big, tattooed men for a lifetime.
“Shay, this is Stas. He’s going to stay here while I take care of some things.”
“Hello.” She greeted Stas with a tremulous smile.
Stas stopped at the other end of the granite slab and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”
Alexei grasped Shay’s hand and led her into the living area. “Would you like to go to bed or—”
“I can’t sleep,” she hastily interjected. “I just can’t.”
“That’s all right.” He rubbed her shoulder and guided her into the corner seat of the large sofa. The stone-colored cashmere throw artfully draped over the back caught his eye. He tugged it free and tucked it around Shay’s legs and lap so she would stay warm.
“Alexei,” she said in an almost pleading tone while clutching his hand. “Please be careful.”
Her fear and concern for his safety detonated a wild burst of emotion in his chest. Bending down, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He lowered his mouth until his lips were touching the shell of her ear. “They think we’ve been involved for a long time, and it’s best if you play along with that.”
She turned toward him, seeking out his gaze with one of understanding. She knew the stakes here. She wouldn’t do anything to put either of them at risk. Embracing the role he had foisted upon her, she leaned over and kissed him properly. The shock of her soft, warm lips upon his nearly took him out at the damned knees. It was an innocent kiss, the type he had first tried on a girl when he was eleven or twelve, but this one made is heart race and his lungs ache.
Unable to help himself, Alexei brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear and cupped the back of her head, holding her in place a moment longer just so he could enjoy her mouth on his. When he found the strength to break the kiss, it was all he could do to straighten up and walk away from her.
After ducking into the master bedroom to grab the emergency set of clothing he kept stowed there, he gathered up their bloody clothes and stuffed them in his gym bag. Stas followed him to the door. “She’s in good hands.”
“See that those good hands of yours stay away from her, yeah?” Alexei warned before shutting the door. He waited to hear the lock engage and went straight to the elevator. After punching the button for the parking garage level, he leaned back against the wall of the box and closed his eyes. He lifted his hand to his mouth and traced his lips. He felt like an overeager teenager as he relived that simple kiss. With one unexpected and wholly innocent move, Shay had fucking shattered him.
When he stepped out into the garage, he inhaled a deep, invigorating lungful of cold air. It was going to be a hell of a long and dangerous night, but he had a damn good reason to get back here as quickly and as safely possible curled up in the corner of his couch.
Chapter Seven
I kissed him.
I kissed Alexei.
What the hell was I thinking?
What was he thinking now?
My lips were still warm from the contact of his hard, sinful mouth. All I could think about was when I might have the chance to kiss him again.
“Do you want some coffee or tea?”
I popped up a little higher so I could see over the top of the lush, comfy sofa. Stas banged around in the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets as he surveyed the food situation.
Not quite as tall as Alexei but heavier and with a more solid build, he had shucked his leather jacket. The navy blue polo he wore was stretched tight across his shoulders. His full sleeve tattoos looked nothing like Alexei’s mafia ink. Here and there, I picked out symbols that were similar to the ones on Alexei’s skin but it seemed as though Stas had chosen to decorate his arms for different reasons that Alexei had.
“How about some hot cocoa?” He held up two of the small cups that fit into the coffee maker reservoir. “There aren’t any marshmallows but I bet it’s sweet.”
The idea that this intimidating gangster was going to make me hot cocoa brought a surprised smile to my face. “That sounds nice.”
“All right.” He turned back toward the coffee maker, and I reached for the television remote on the glass coffee table. I clicked through the channels in search of something mindless to watch. Eventually I found re-runs of one of those reality cooking shows to keep us entertained.
“What are you watching?” Stas handed me a cup wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s really hot.”
I blew across the top of the steaming liquid, creating little ripples in the chocolate drink. “Some reality show about bankrupt restaurants.”
“Have you ever worked in a restaurant?” He went back to the kitchen and returned to the living room with a cup of coffee and Alexei’s abandoned plate of cold eggs and toast.
“I waited tables and washed dishes in a couple of different places when I was in high school, but eventually, I switched to cleaning offices and homes. What about you?”
“I was a dishwasher and did some cooking before I shifted to this line of work.” He placed his food on the coffee table and dragged the table closer to the sofa. After plopping down on the opposite end, he dug into the cold eggs and toast.
“And what exactly is this line of work?” I took a tiny sip of the hot cocoa and waited for him to answer.
Stas shot me a funny look. “I would have a thought a woman in your position would know not to ask questions like that.”
“A woman in my position? And what the hell does that mean?”
“You know what it means.” He gestured around the apartment with the half-eaten slice of toast. “It means that the tradeoff for all this is that you don’t ask questions about where the money comes from. This is a nice step up for you.” He took another bite of his toast. “You went from cleaning toilets to playing private maid for a man like Alexei. Don’t fuck that up by asking about things that are none of your business.”
I couldn’t decide if I was more angry or humiliated by the way he had spoken to me. “Maybe you should take some of your advice and mind your business. I sure hope you didn’t have plans for that bonus Alexei promised you.”
Frozen like a deer in headlights, he had that piece of toast clamped between his teeth as he watched me.
“Yeah. That’s right. I heard you two talking back there. And let me tell you something, Stas. The second Alexei finds out you just spoke to me like that? He’s going to kick your ass all the way out the door and down eleven flights of stairs.”
Because he would. One thing this wild and crazy night had taught me was that Alexei wasn’t going to let anyone treat me badly. He wouldn’t stand for it—and I wasn’t going to stand for it either.
Stas put down his toast and swallowed loudly. “I’m sorry, Shay. You’re right. I should mind my own business.”
“Your damn right you should,” I muttered grumpily. “For your information, I’ve never taken a penny from Alexei. I work hard. I have a college degree. I’m saving to start my own business. Everything that I own is mine.”
“I didn’t mea
n to upset you. I can see that I did, but that wasn’t my intention.” He drank some coffee and shook his head. “I was just trying to warn you, to remind you that asking questions about men like me and men with a history like Alexei’s can get you in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m not stupid, Stas. I know that.”
“So why did you ask about my line of work?”
“Because I’m curious? Because I was trying to be nice? There were other ways to answer that question without being a jerk, you know?”
“Yeah. I know,” he glumly replied. “Maybe I’m just an asshole. Did you think about that?”
“You made me hot cocoa. An asshole wouldn’t have done that.”
He actually smiled. “I really am sorry for the way I behaved.”
I wiggled back into the corner of the sofa and curled my knees up tight. “I really am sorry that you aren’t getting your bonus for tonight.”
Stas laughed and picked up the plate of cold eggs. “That’s fair.” He leaned back and ate quietly while I tried to figure out what was happening on the television screen. During a commercial, he said, “My mom and I came to the States when I was four. I was a good kid. I stayed out of trouble. I went to school. Hell, I even played football and ran track. I thought I would go to college and be a stock broker or some shit like that.”
“So how does a good kid with aspirations for the American Dream end up working for someone like Nikolai?”
Stas rubbed his fingers together in a universal symbol I recognized. “Money.”
“Gambling?” I asked, thinking of all the families in my neighborhood who had been ruined by gambling debts and playing the lottery.
“No. Much worse.” He put down the empty plate and picked up his coffee cup. “Medical debt.” He took a drink and seemed almost hesitant to delve into memories that I suspected were painful and sad. “Mom had cancer. Ovarian,” he said, “but by the time they caught it, she was all eaten up inside. The treatment was expensive, and she didn’t have health insurance. A friend of mine? His uncle was the boss back home so I asked him for work, and nine years later, here I am.”