The other men murmured in agreement.
"We're going to start making ourselves a bit more visible. Pitbull and I are going to pay Hennesy a visit to figure out the climate around here with respect to the Diablos." He paused. "We've got a lot to accomplish and only a few weeks to get it done." He glanced at Pitbull, raising his eyes as if to say, anything I'm forgetting?
"The good news," Pitbull said with a smile.
"Right, the announcement. So, as most of you know, there's someone at this table who's getting patched this week." There were a few appreciative murmurs and whistles, and Benny puffed up a bit with the attention.
"We're going to celebrate, Padre Knights style. The Maidens have been invited and old ladies are welcome," Alejandro continued. "In fact, if we want to eat, we sure as hell better make sure they're here." A collective chuckle erupted at the table. "Popeye's old lady will be contacting the others to arrange for some covered dishes. I need a couple of you on grill duty. Let's make this induction a special one. We're all grateful to Prospect--I mean, Zig-Zag--for his part in the incident with the Czechs the other week." He smiled down the table at Benny. "Bet you'll be glad for us to stop calling you 'Prospect,' huh?"
"That's not so bad, I just want my patch." The younger man grinned back at Alejandro.
"You got it, brother. You earned it." Pitbull and the others who had been on the scene of the handoff a few weeks ago nodded in agreement. If it hadn't been for Benny... But he refused to think about that. Fact was, the prospect had shown up just in time, and Alejandro had found himself at Ali's house that very night. Best nursing I've ever received, he thought, remembering Ali's words that night. Take me, use me, fuck me till I cry...
"One more thing," he said, clearing his throat as he came back to reality. "I heard from Prez. He's not doing too good. Whatever your higher power, keep old Turk in your prayers. His dialysis is kicking his ass, and I'm not sure when he's going to be back with us."
The others were solemn. Turk had run the club for years and was well-respected by its members. Years of drug use as a younger man left him with Hepatitis C. Now, only in his late fifties, his kidneys were failing. Alejandro had felt horrible for Turk when he went to visit him in the hospital right before he left San Antonio. "Hurts to ride and my piss looks like whiskey," he'd croaked to Alejandro from his hospital bed.
"That's why we got rules against doing hard drugs, even though we move it," Pitbull reminded everyone. "That shit fucks you up bad, man." He shook his head.
"And that's why we're going to run the DVs out of town, finish this assignment, and get back home to make him proud," Alejandro declared. "I know we had that small setback, but we're all in one piece now, even Haji, so time to take care of business and show those motherfuckers who runs Arroyo Flats." He raised his bottle. "To Prez."
"To Prez!" the others toasted heartily.
"And to getting the fuck out of here before we all grow old and die," said Slider. "I don't mean no disrespect to you motherfuckers who grew up here, but this town is boring."
Alejandro feigned offense, but secretly he agreed with Slider. There was only one thing he found exciting about Arroyo Flats, and with any luck she'd be waiting up for him when he got out there. Maybe even wearing that new lingerie she'd mentioned in her text message earlier that day. His cock stirred eagerly as he thought of seeing her... touching her... tasting her... She burned in his veins like some kind of wasting disease, and he didn't want the cure.
Alejandro tried to keep himself in check. He limited his visits to the ranch to a few times a week, but he constantly felt like he was about to go off the deep end. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep taking this thing with Ali a day at a time. Not when his entire body throbbed at the slightest thought of her. With a deep sigh he glanced at the clock and inwardly groaned at how many minutes separated him from Ali’s bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Ali sighed and answered the phone. There was no use trying to put it off any longer. "Hey, Sugar," came Bobby's cheerful voice through the line, as if he hadn't been trying to get in touch with her all week. "How you doing?"
"I'm fine, Bobby, thanks for asking. How are you?"
"Well, I'm good, but I'd be even better if you agreed to come to the gala with me Saturday night. Do you have other plans, or can I steal you away with me?"
The gala? She squinted at the calendar hanging next to her fridge and realized she hadn't yet flipped to April, even though it was already more than a week into the new month. She flipped the page, and there it was, the Red Cross Gala. It had been on her calendar for months.
"I'd love for you to come," he continued smoothly. "Daddy bought a table. I can always tell him you're sick if you really don't want to go, but there's someone you should meet, and I know he'll be there. He never misses this gala."
"Bobby, you promised you wouldn't pressure me."
"No pressure at all. It's not even a real date. You can even drive yourself if that will make you feel better. But Travis Lathrop gives a lot of money to charitable causes, especially when they work with troubled kids. Used to fund that wilderness program before they shut it down... Damn, I can't remember the name."
"Beyond Boundaries?"
He snapped his fingers. "That's the one. Travis has got money to give and I'm sure he'd love what you're trying to do. It's the perfect way to introduce you."
"Hmm. Is it black tie?"
"Of course." He chuckled. "Well, actually, they're calling it 'Red Tie' but you get the idea."
"I don't even know if I have a red dress."
"Sure you do. You bought two last year when we went to that hospital gala, and you decided on the gold one. The red one is still in my closet with the tags attached."
"I guess I can't refuse, then. But there are a couple conditions."
"Anything."
"We can't have a repeat of last time. I know you apologized, and I believe you, but please, Bobby. Please don't drink so much."
"I won't drink a drop," he replied cheerfully. "Sober as a judge. What's the second thing?"
"We're not talking about my personal life."
The affable air disappeared from his voice. "You mean we're not talking about Alejandro Rojas?"
"My private business is my own, Bobby," she repeated firmly. "I mean it. If you so much as breathe his name, I'm going home."
"Understood," he said carefully. "If it's that important to you."
"It is." Her voice was as steady as she hoped it could be. "Thank you."
"So am I picking you up?"
"You know what, I'll just drive to your place and get changed over there. It will be easier, don't you think?"
"Sure." He tried and failed to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. "I'll see you then, Ali."
"Okay. See you Saturday."
"Bye, Sugar."
She hung up with a deep sigh. On the one hand, maybe she'd just signed herself up for yet another dull, miserable night, complete with Cecile's icy disapproval and endless pestering from Bobby about getting back together. But if Travis Lathrop could help make up the $30,000 shortfall she still had in her startup budget, she'd be that much closer to getting the program up and running. Then she could take all the time she needed to sort out her crazy love life.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
When Ali met Alejandro at the door wearing only her new lingerie, the look on his face was worth every minute of the forty-six hours they'd spent apart. The rumble of his bike in the driveway at exactly 10:15 had her on her feet and stretched provocatively in the door frame before he even realized she was standing there. When he did see her, he'd nearly dropped the Harley.
"Baby," he breathed as she slid into his arms on the stairs. "I've missed you." He ran his palms excitedly over the black lace. "Mmm, this is sexy."
Just like that, little pinpricks of excitement radiated outward from her core, and her legs trembled a bit as Alejandro claimed her mouth. "Ali, Baby," he whispered as his lips captured hers. "You ar
e so beautiful. I've been counting the hours till I could touch you again, mija." Without another word he scooped her into his arms and kicked the door shut behind him.
When he cradled her against his chest to carry her up the stairs, the rich leather smell of his club vest mingled with his own musk and that scent she could never quite place, no matter how many times she pressed her nose against his skin and breathed him in. The smell that always made her think of fire.
He settled her on the bed and Ali propped up on her elbows so she could watch him undress. It was her favorite part of the night, when Alejandro came to her and shed his garments one by one like he was shedding the harsh reality that separated them.
She watched him remove his shirt and gazed at the trail of dark hair running down his muscular chest and disappearing beneath his waistband. Her breath caught for the hundredth time as she marveled at the tattoo he'd gotten when he'd left her ten years ago, the vines growing through the exposed ribcage, a visual reminder of how deep their love had taken root. Finally he was gloriously naked. He walked toward her and she forgot everything else but her need to touch him.
***
When Alejandro crawled into Ali's bed she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him like a vine as he touched her everywhere. He stripped the lingerie from her body, sad to see the lacy scraps float to the floor but eager to be skin to skin with her.
"Tomorrow night," he murmured. They usually didn't see each other two nights in a row, but he didn't want to wait. In his mind he'd already made a plan to bring her some food, set up a sunset picnic in the back pasture, and make love to her under the stars. "I can come. How early?"
He was unprepared for her to stiffen in his arms. She went silent for a few seconds and he sore she was holding her breath, her spine rigid. He'd barely registered the shock of her reaction when she slipped away, shaking her head as she climbed off the bed.
"What's wrong?" Her whole face changed, the eagerness that had been there just moments ago replaced by anxiety as she stood and walked across the room. She pulled a short satin robe from the bathroom door and wrapped it around herself, avoiding his eyes as she tied the sash.
"Ali."
Her eyes flickered back to his and then down to the floor. She seemed to shrink against the wall.
Alejandro sat up then, and swung his legs around until his feet were firmly planted on the floor. "What's going on? Talk to me."
"I have a gala to attend," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I can't see you." She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke.
"Okay." He shrugged. "Another time, then. It's no big deal." She shook her head again and he realized her eyes were filling with tears. "Hey, hey, what's this?"
"I'm going with Bobby," she blurted, and it was like a bucket of cold water on his head.
He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his head, trying to ignore the murderous thoughts racing through his head. Ugly words lodged in his throat and he swallowed them back as she tried to explain herself.
"It was already in the works... sort of. I mean, I knew about it and I already had a ticket reserved, but I hadn’t planned to go."
"But now you are." He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it only came out bitter.
"Yes," she whispered. “There’s an important funder there, and I need to meet him.”
His jaw clenched despite his best efforts to remain calm. "And were you planning to tell me?"
She shifted from one foot to the other and threaded her fingers through her hair as a move he recognized as nervousness.
"That's a no, then. Fuck, Ali!"
She flinched like she'd been slapped. Clearly she'd been nervous about his reaction, and that hurt him more than her sin of omission. Doesn't she know I'd never lay a hand on her? How can she even think I'd hurt her?
He stood and walked toward his carefully folded clothing. Ali shrunk in the doorway, as jumpy as a cat, as he stepped into his jeans. "I know you don't really love him, and I also know I'll be right back in this bed with you, if not tomorrow then the next night." He approached her, his hands up so she knew he wouldn't hurt her. "But I don't like being lied to. I haven't lied to you, and I sure as fuck don't want you doing it to me. This--" he motioned between them, "This won't work unless we can be honest with each other."
"I'm sorry." Her plaintive voice, damp eyes, and nervous body language conspired against him to keep him there. Every cell in his body screamed at him to stop in his tracks, pull her back into bed and reassure her with his touch.
But his stubborn pride won out. Fuck this, he told himself as he pulled on his clothes. You don't need to hang around here being her cock on tap while she sorts her shit out. Look at her, she's fucking scared of you, like you're some kind of threat.
"Alejandro, please..." Her gray eyes filled with anguish. "Let me explain," she pleaded, reaching her hand out to him. "Please."
He shrugged away her touch and stepped into his boots. "Not tonight. I gotta go." He took the stairs down two at a time and was relieved when she didn't follow him. He didn't want to look in her eyes again, because he knew he'd be a pussy and fold. Instead, he started the bike and took off for the clubhouse where he could think in private.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Alejandro woke up face down on the clubhouse sofa with a graveyard of empties on the floor next to him. The TV droned in the background, poking at the edges of his pounding headache. Another night erased from my mind, he thought. Suddenly he remembered the look in Ali's eyes when she'd told him about the gala, and the throbbing above his eye turned savage.
He needed water. And hair of the dog. And a shower.
After reading his text messages and arguing with himself about whether or not to text Ali back, he hopped on his bike and rode to his parents' house, where his mother fussed over him and made him a breakfast fit for a king. But he sure as hell didn't feel like a king. He sank into the chair and eyed the spread gratefully. A mother's love, now that was unconditional, though it didn't change the fact that he felt like shit.
He ignored her disapproving look as he popped open a beer and continued shoveling food into his mouth. She made no secret of the fact that she didn't like drinking, especially in the morning. She was probably right--hell, she was right about everything else, even Ali. It was his mother who had told him ten years ago, Mijo, be careful. That girl will break your heart.
All this time he thought he'd outsmarted her by breaking up with Ali before she could break up with him. Now he realized it didn't matter who did the leaving. A shattered heart was just as broken when you broke it yourself. Ali broke his heart every day that she wasn't his, and that was the truth of the matter.
His mother leaned behind him and wrapped him in her soft embrace. "You're in trouble," she murmured.
"Mi guapa madré," he replied, kissing her hand. "You worry too much. Us brothers look out for each other. I'm perfectly safe."
"I meant the girl." Her eyes were sympathetic when he stared at her, surprised. "A mother knows. It's all over this handsome face." She took his chin in her hand. "This love torments you, mijo."
He couldn't even protest. It did torment him. Taking it one day at a time was no longer working for him. If he didn't figure out what he wanted, what he could promise Ali, he would lose her forever to Bobby.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Later that morning, Alejandro was tinkering with his bike at his father's garage when he heard a car pull up outside. The insistent pounding on the door conspired to shatter his skull, and he headed for the front, hell-bent on thrashing whoever it was beating down the door.
On the other side of the glass stood Bobby Dawson. Alejandro stared at the blond man. He'd have recognized Bobby's face anywhere: clean cut, blue eyes, bright teeth. He took in the linen suit and expensive loafers, the timepiece on his arm that probably cost as much as his bike. Rich boy, he thought, you're either stupid or insane. I could shoot you out back, bury you in the desert, and no one would be any the wiser. He
entertained that thought for more than a moment as he stared the other man down, and then unlocked the door without a word.
Clearly Bobby knew he was at a disadvantage, but he walked defiantly into the garage and stood watching Alejandro carefully wipe the grease from each finger in turn.
"What can I do for you?" Alejandro finally asked.
"Robert Dawson." Bobby offered his hand, and for a second Alejandro thought he'd made a mistake and the man was just campaigning. But the fire in Bobby's eyes was unmistakable.
Alejandro took Bobby's hand, squeezing the fingers between his own, bearing down just a bit. He was surprised when Bobby didn't wince.
"I'm Alaine's fiancé."
She hates being called Alaine. Alejandro smiled and went for the jugular right away. "You know she doesn't actually wear that ring, right?" he asked conspiratorially.
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