by Roxie Rivera
“Here you are,” I murmured. “What are you? Twenty-six?”
“Twenty-seven.” He took a long drink of coffee. “And before you ask… No, my mother didn’t survive. She died but she died in the best hospice program available. She was at home, and she was comfortable and she didn’t have to worry about anything.”
“She worried about you,” I said without thinking.
Stas glanced at me and smiled sadly. “That’s what mamas do. I bet your mother is up right now, pacing her house and wondering what’s happening to you and your sister.”
“I bet she’s not.” Bitterness crept into my voice. “Mom bailed when we were younger. She just walked right out of the house and never came back.”
For a man who seemed so hard and wise, he looked shocked by the discovery that my mother had abandoned me. “Where is she now?”
I shrugged and pretended as if I didn’t care. “No idea.”
“Why did she leave?”
I ran my finger around the rim of my cup. “I don’t know. I mean, now that I’m older and I understand what it’s like to sacrifice and to put dreams on hold? I think maybe she was just tired of being a parent. I think maybe she just wanted out.”
“Like your sister?” he asked quietly.
My head snapped up at that. “What do you mean?”
His shoulders inched higher in a defensive shrug. “I heard some things tonight about your sister.”
“What sort of things?”
“She strikes me as the type of woman who wants things she hasn’t earned. She craves the kind of life other people have but she isn’t willing to work for it. She wants money and nice things, designer handbags and jewelry and five-hundred-dollar shoes.” He drained his cup and set it aside. “She put her baby sister’s life at risk for some money. She decided that your life was worth less than whatever some guy out of Tirana was willing to pay for a block of stolen financial information.”
The blunt description of the situation made my chest ache. Was that true? Had Shannon ever framed the situation in that way or had she just blithely gone along with Ruben’s scheme? Had she been so blinded by dollar signs and the promise of riches that she hadn’t even considered what would happen if her scam was uncovered?
“Shay?” Stas touched my arm and startled me.
“Don’t touch me!” Gasping and in a blind panic, I practically flew off the couch, spilling what was left of my hot cocoa all over the blanket. My feet got tangled up in the blanket, and I tumbled forward. Stas caught me and settled me back on the couch.
“Are you okay?” He quickly took his hands away from me and stood up straight, putting space between us and showing me his palms like a perp in the a police officer’s spotlight. “Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized in a breathless rush. “It’s been a long night for me. I’m still on edge.”
“Don’t apologize. This is all on me.” He cautiously pulled the wet, stained blanket away from me. “Let me put this in the laundry, okay? We’ll find you another blanket.”
“Don’t put that in the washing machine,” I warned, thinking of how lovely and soft the cashmere was against my skin. “It has to be hand-washed with special soap, rolled in a towel to squeeze out the water and then left to air dry.”
Stas blinked. “Yeah, so I’m just going to put this in the laundry room for the housekeeper to handle. I’ll be right back.”
Housekeeper? I wanted to laugh at the idea that I had a housekeeper to tackle chores but then I remembered that Alexei most certainly did have a full staff at his home. I assumed his mistresses all benefited from the perks of his wealth. As spotless as this apartment was, it was clear that someone was maintaining the space even when unoccupied.
“Here,” Stas said as he unfurled a light, fluffy comforter in the palest gray. “I found this in one of the bedrooms.”
“Thanks.” I tucked it in tight and got comfortable again.
“How about we agree that we don’t talk about family any more tonight?” Stas dropped down on his end of the sofa again. “You and I have enough baggage to sink a ship. Let’s just find something really stupid to watch and hang out, okay?”
“I like that idea.” I tossed the remote at him. “Your choice this time.”
Stas flicked through the channels until he landed on the one of those shows about repo men. “Is this okay?”
“It’s fine.”
He toed off his sneakers and got comfortable, propping his feet on the coffee table. I let it slide because I had a feeling he was just as tired as I was. Snuggled under the blanket, I thought it would be easy to fall asleep but I kept thinking about Shannon and Alexei.
Even though my sister had put me in extreme danger, I prayed that she had found somewhere safe to hide. I prayed that Ruben would finally do something smart and get her out of town. They needed to run fast and far and never look back. The list of men who wanted to hurt them was long and growing.
And Alexei? I prayed he would come back safe and unharmed. If he got hurt protecting me, I would never forgive myself for drawing him into this stupid, crazy mess.
“Stop worrying,” Stas chided. “You’re going to wear a hole in that blanket if you keep rubbing it between your fingers.”
Not even realizing I was fidgeting, I looked down to find the blanket clamped between my thumb and forefinger. “I can’t help it.”
“Alexei is a legend in the underworld. He’s survived shit I can’t even fathom, okay? What he’s facing tonight? It’s nothing.”
Stas’ reply didn’t comfort me. If anything, it awakened an insatiable curiosity. Earlier this evening, Alexei had given me a glimpse of his history by explaining some of his tattoos. I had got much more up-close-and-personal view of his history when he had rescued me. Now I wanted to know all the dark, dangerous and difficult things that had shaped Alexei into the man he was today.
“You picked a good man, Shay.” Stas folded his arms behind his head. “He’ll give you a good life if you can just figure out how to keep him happy.”
If only it was that simple…
*
“Is that it?” Boychenko asked as he stuffed the blood stained clothing and leather shoes into an industrial-sized furnace.
“Yes.” Alexei rolled his shoulders and straightened the collar on the clean suit he now wore. He grimaced at the sight of his favorite Armani lace-ups surrounded by flames. He eyed the sputtering furnace with concern. “Where the hell did Kostya find this thing?”
The great big beast of an incinerator belched like an angry dragon as Boychenko tapped at the dials and locked the door. “He picked it up in Mexico. It belonged to some medical waste disposal company that went bankrupt.”
Picked it up in Mexico? Alexei shuddered to think what sort of ghoul had sold this terrifying piece of machinery to the cleaner. He doubted very much that it had ever been used for legitimate purposes. More likely, it had come out of some cartel hell hole. If it had been in cartel hands, there was no telling what, exactly, had been incinerated inside the thing.
“Where are we headed next?” Boychenko asked as he strode to a sink in the eerily lit warehouse and scrubbed his hands clean.
“To Shay’s home,” he said, waiting for the younger man to dry his hands. He eyed the snarling furnace. “Are you just going to leave that thing on?”
“It runs on a cycle.” Boychenko shrugged into his leather jacket. “Trust me. I’ve spent a lot of time with this horrible thing over the last few months. It’s old and cranky, but it’s dependable.”
Alexei decided he didn’t want to know what other terrible shit Boychenko had destroyed in that furiously hot furnace. Instead, he headed for his SUV and told the kid to follow him. The drive to Shay’s place was uneventful. The silent night and easy traffic gave him too much time to think.
When they reached the mobile home park, the place was unnaturally quiet and dark. Alexei didn’t like it. Teeth on edge and fingertips buzzing
, he drove slowly through the narrow streets and diverted his hawk-like gaze left and right, scanning for any signs of trouble. He passed all of the larger double wides before reaching the streets packed with single wide trailers, most in serious states of disrepair, all crammed together with tiny strips of brown grass between them.
He didn’t pull into Shay’s driveway. Wanting to be able to leave quickly, he parked parallel to the broken sidewalk and killed the engine and lights. Boychenko crept along behind him and found a spot to park on the opposite side of the street. The young soldier didn’t get out of his car. He kept his engine idling but cut his lights. He probably had a gun on his lap and another close at hand.
Alexei reached into the backseat for Shay’s purse and dropped it onto the console. He felt uncomfortable going through her personal things and found her keys quickly. Holding the small set in his hand, he traced her stamped initials on the small leather rectangle and the beautifully stitched edge. When this bullshit with her sister was done, he planned to ask her to make him something, maybe a wallet or a belt.
He left the SUV. Brittle grass crunched under the soles of his shoes. He had mounted exactly one step on the small, rickety staircase leading to her front porch when he heard the unmistakable whir of a spinning revolver chamber. The click of the chamber locking into place made his heart skip a beat. Frozen stiff, he waited for the steel bite of a bullet tearing through his skull.
But it never came.
“You’re awfully jumpy tonight, Alex.” Spider’s raspy voice drifted from the side of the small mobile home. A moment later, the snap of a lighter and the bright orange glow of cigarette helped Alexei locate the outlaw vice president. He leaned against the edge of the home, right behind a bush and crape myrtle.
“You fucking asshole,” Alexei hissed. “What the hell is wrong with you? My friend might have shot you.”
“Not before my two prospects shot him,” Spider answered between puffs.
Alexei glanced toward Boychenko and found the kid leaning against the door of his car, arms crossed against his chest, while two young men wearing the Calaveras colors stood on either side of him. Not liking this situation at all, Alexei stepped off the stairs and back onto the grass. He walked toward Spider to face him like a man. “Is there a problem here?”
“Not at all,” Spider replied in that slow, easy way of his. “I’m here to protect my property and make sure that you get out of here unscathed.”
The irritation in Spider’s voice was impossible to miss. “I don’t blame you for being pissed off about all of this. I realize that you’re in a bad situation here, but I’m grateful for the help you gave Shay earlier today. I fully intend to pay back that favor.”
Spider stepped out of the shadows and flicked his cigarette ash toward the ground. “You better believe I’m going to take full advantage of that debt, but I would have helped Shay regardless of her connection to you.” He took a long, final drag on his cigarette. “She’s a good person. She doesn’t deserve any of this shit.”
“I know she doesn’t.”
Spider stubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of his boot. “You two kept your relationship quiet.”
The suspicion in the biker’s tone came through clearly. The last thing Alexei needed was Spider digging around in his personal business or making trouble for them. “Shay is a private person.”
“She’s a good girl.” He tossed down the cigarette butt. “She deserves to be treated properly. Her old man is cold and dead in the ground so he isn’t here to keep you in line, but I am. If I hear one fucking whisper about you hurting her, I’ll start with your kneecaps and then I’ll let the rest of the club have a turn.”
Alexei took the threat in stride. He could see that Spider felt strongly about Shay’s welfare. He was glad that she had a father figure looking out for her. “My intentions toward Shay are what you would want from any man who dated your daughter.”
Spider issued a harsh laugh. “There isn’t a man in Houston with balls big enough to ask me to date my baby girl.” He gestured toward the house. “Do you need keys?”
“I have Shay’s set.”
“You want some help?”
“Sure.” Alexei climbed the stairs, crossed the porch and unlocked the front door. Shay had left on a lamp in the living room. A pleasant cinnamon and vanilla scent lingered in the air. Just like the last time he had visited her home, the place was neat and tidy. There was a new throw and pillows on the old, worn out sofa and more recent pictures of the two sisters on the wall.
“The girls are some of my best tenants,” Spider said as he shut the storm door. “Shay always pays the rent a week early. She keeps the house and the yard clean. I never have to worry about late notices for the utilities.” He rested his arm on the wall and shook his head. “I’ll be sad to see the girls go.”
Alexei hadn’t considered that Spider might toss them out of their home. He had been planning to let Shay stay at his apartment until she felt safe to come home or able to make a decision about her future without the added pressure of homelessness hanging over her head.
“You understand why I can’t keep them here.” Spider reached into a vest pocket and retrieved a stick of gum. “I’ve spent most of the year cleaning up this neighborhood. I’m moving in families and oilfield guys. I can’t have the trouble that followed Shay and Shannon home in my park.”
“I’m a businessman. I understand when hard choices have to be made to protect your bottom line.”
“I know you won’t let Shay end up on the streets or sleeping in her car. Shannon?” He shrugged and jammed the stick of gum into his mouth. “If she survives the weekend, it will be a fucking miracle.”
It was a cold, unfeeling statement but that didn’t make it any less true.
Not wanting to waste any more time talking, Alexei crossed the cramped living room and kitchen. There was a short hallway just off the kitchen. He stopped at the first door he reached, opened it, switched on the light and peeked inside. Even before he spotted the worktable against far wall, he knew it was Shay’s room.
If he had felt uncomfortable going through her purse to find her keys, he felt completely out of his depth standing in the middle of her bedroom. It was decorated simply and plainly. She seemed to have sacrificed her sleeping comfort to make room for a wall of industrial shelving that held finished handbags, wallets, belts and packaging and mailing supplies. He investigated the tiny space, running his hands over the tools she used to make such beautiful handmade items. The mismatched initials etched into the tool handles convinced him she had probably purchased these at pawn shops and garage sales.
The laptop on her bed captured his interest. He dragged his finger over the mouse pad and awakened the sleeping machine. A sticky note tacked onto the corner of the screen had her password printed in bright green ink along with a reminder for Shannon to recharge the battery. A faint smile played upon his mouth as he imagined Shay getting irritated with her sister for the millionth time over that.
He typed in the password and found himself staring at extremely detailed spreadsheets. With a couple of clicks, he was able to read through Shay’s current profit and loss statement, her bank account balances and her projected expenses and profit for the coming year. A word document in another window showed a five-year business plan broken down into yearly, quarterly and monthly goals and tasks.
By the looks of it, Shay was well ahead of her goals. She was very cautious with her money, putting almost all of it back into the business or into a savings account marked for the store she wanted to open with a friend. He noticed the friend’s current savings were much lower than Shay’s and her expenses were higher too.
She wouldn’t like it if he started nosing into her business, but he felt a duty to talk through the problems of partnerships with her. He had been so desperate to get out of the mafia life that he had taken on Nikolai as a silent partner without a second thought to how it would impact him years down the line. Now that he was so
very successful, he wanted nothing more than to shed those old connections to organized crime, but it was impossible. He was chained to the mafia for the rest of his life.
But maybe he could save Shay from making that mistake. If she wanted to go into business with a friend, she needed to do it with those beautiful brown eyes of hers wide, wide open and with an airtight contract in place.
He opened another window and discovered the household budget and her shopping list. He wasn’t surprised to see that Shannon had been running short on cash or that Shay had been covering the household expenses on her own. Judging by the extremely short shopping list and the stack of clipped coupons he had spotted on her worktable, Shay had been cutting every possible corner to stay afloat.
Closing her laptop, he set it aside and returned to her closet to grab the one suitcase hidden away there. He wouldn’t be able to fit much inside of it so he chose carefully from her wardrobe. He was picking his way through her dresser and lamenting the lack of lacy, silky things when Spider appeared in the doorway.
“If you want, I can have the prospects box up the house room by room. We can store it over in the building behind the main office.”
“Start with Shay’s room,” he instructed. “I want this all boxed up carefully.”
“I’ll see if Marley can come over and take care of Shay and Shannon’s things,” Spider offered.
“I would prefer that.” As he packed up Shay’s tools, he gave Spider instructions for the delivery of her things. He found a couple of empty boxes on the supply shelf and put everything she might need for her work into them. He recognized a handbag from her virtual storefront, a site that he often found himself checking out late at night when he was thinking about her. It was among her most popular designs but the work she put into each one made it difficult for her to produce at a fast rate.
Her leather goods were made by hand, but there was no rule that said they had to be made by her hand. The seed of an idea blossomed. He needed to investigate the feasibility but he might have discovered a way for Shay to grow her business while maintaining her high quality standards.