Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. No one called her because few had her number. She pulled the phone out of her coat pocket. It was her mother, which wasn’t good. Not because something had happened. Jentry would bet her meager paycheck that everyone in the family was hale and hearty. Whatever this early morning phone call was, it wasn’t bad news. At least her mother waited until she’d left work.

  “Hello,” she said, and braced.

  “Calista informed me of your decision. What the hell do you mean you’re not coming to Montauk? Where you and my granddaughter will be safe.” Her mother practically growled.

  “I can’t live in Montauk and work in the city, not with the hours I keep and taking public transportation. It won’t work, and I need to keep working.”

  A scoff came through the phone. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Jentry pulled the phone away from her ear to look at it because it was not her mother on the other end. It couldn’t be the same woman who had cut her off when she ran away from home at seventeen to live with her boyfriend. The same woman who had told her not to come back. The same woman who hadn’t offered her daughter a place to stay when she found out she had a three-week-old granddaughter. Granted, Jentry didn’t need a place to stay. She had a job and a roof over her head. A little help from social services kept Allie’s belly full. The rest Jentry did on her own, without her mother’s help. Only recently did she occasionally babysit.

  “No.” Any offer her mother made came with strings attached and plenty of judgement. Jentry had enough of both. Living with her mother was tantamount to handing over custody of her daughter, and that she would never do. Allie would never be confused over who was mommy and who was grandma.

  “So instead of living with your family, you’re living with a mobster?”

  Calista just had to share that tidbit with Laverne, further turning her mother against Jentry.

  “Don’t be stupid, Jentry,” her mother shouted. “You obviously don’t know what’s best for you or Allie.”

  “And you do because you are the perfect mom. If that’s the case, then where did I come from, huh?” Different words, but the same argument. Jentry didn’t measure up. In the eyes of her family, she fell short, every single time.

  “I gotta go before I get mugged arguing with you at four in the morning.” She ended the call and turned off her phone because without a doubt, Laverne Playne was speed dialing Jentry. By noon, her voicemail would be full.

  Jentry pressed on. She just wanted to get home, get Allie from the babysitter, take a hot shower, and sleep a few hours before Allie forced her to get up and be mommy.

  She rounded the corner more determined to precisely do that and nothing else until the cycle of go to work and come back home began again.

  A cold wind slipped beneath her scarf and snaked down her spine, causing her entire body to stop and shiver. Or was it the two men standing in front of her building next to an idling shiny ruby Maybach? Both larger than life, both menacing. Clothed in dark coats over their expensive suits, they nearly blended with the night. Whatever they were saying was lost in the wind when they stopped and gave her their full attention.

  She wanted to run. A smart girl would’ve and not looked back. A smart girl wouldn’t’ve hooked up with the first guy who said she was pretty. A smart girl wouldn’t’ve dropped out of high school for that same guy and got pregnant at eighteen. A smart girl would’ve had options and not found a job working for a mob boss. The same mob boss glaring at her from in front of her run-down tenement.

  Chapter Two

  Steps slowed to a crawl, Jentry stopped a relatively safe distance away. Streetlights bathed both their faces in sharp relief. Both men were handsome, brutally so. Bruno Neritti was about six-six and built like a tank. He was stocky, and broad in body and face. He had short, medium brown hair and dark brown eyes and a full beard. He reminded her of a grizzly, barely tamed. Eminently dangerous. He belonged in a ring, a speedo clinging to his body, a crowd of fans chanting his name as he rag-dolled an opponent.

  Harden Gage was the opposite. An inch or so shorter than his friend, he was blond and blue-eyed with a scar dissecting his right eyebrow and curling around the outer corner of his right eye. He had a granite jaw with a twenty-four-hour five-o’clock shadow. Technically, he had a jar head balanced on a thick neck, but damn if it didn’t work, and work well with his broad shoulders and athletic build.

  Harden must’ve become tired of waiting because he closed the distance between them, his steps hard, echoing in the silent streets. This wasn’t a man who hid. Everything about him was aggressive and brazen, from the tips of his golden blond hair to his wingtips, and all the hard muscles between the two.

  “Do I look like a liar?”

  “Wh-What?” she stuttered, confused. She didn’t know what he was going to say, but it wasn’t that.

  Face granite, lips thinned into a harsh sneer, he filled her vision. “Do. I. Look. Like a liar?” he repeated slowly as if she were deaf and had to read his lips.

  Heart racing, Jentry tried not to cower, but what else could one do when faced with a man who had more blood on his hands than Dracula. “N-n-no, sir.”

  She had no idea what this was about, why Harden Gage and his underboss were on her sidewalk berating her. She did her job and nothing else. She minded her own damn business. Hear no evil. See no evil. Dumb, stupid, and deaf. That’s how she was at work.

  “Well, that’s what you made me after I told Julius and Calista I would make sure you were safe.” He snarled. “Then you fucking disappear.” His reasonable tone belied the anger simmering in his eyes, the tight line of his mouth and jaw, the controlled poise of his body.

  She had to play this carefully, especially when she didn’t understand why or where this was coming from. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “No.” He cut her off. “You didn’t think.”

  He didn’t have to be rude. Anyone else she would have cursed out and kept walking. That wouldn’t fly with the killer in front of her. Taking the job at the club wasn’t the smartest move. It was her only move. Either work there or go back home and live under her parents’ roof and supervision. Which was just another way of handing over control to her mother. Handing over her Allie to her mother.

  So, Harden Gage could be as rude as he wanted. She sucked it up and played ball. “I guess I didn’t, sir.” His eyes narrowed even further, and damn she didn’t like it. Her knees began to shake. “I don’t know what I did to bring you to my doorstep. Whatever it is, I’m—”

  “Sorry?” He supplied. “Not good enough when you could’ve been killed, and I’d be left explaining to Julius and Calista how I let it happen.” He looked at her with annoyance and disgust.

  She bit the inside of her mouth to keep her sharp retort behind her teeth. Respect. Always respect the boss. Always show deference. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, and said, “Sir, I—”

  “Did I not state you were to move into an apartment I would provide to protect you from danger?”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders eased in relief and a shaky laugh broke free. “That’s what this is about. I don’t need protection. I’m fine. Whatever Calista’s involved in has nothing to do with me. I’m just her twenty-year-old cousin. I’m nobody anyone would be concerned about. I’m so off the radar, I’m barely on the planet.” She knew her place in the world, and it was not in an apartment owned by Harden Gage.

  Jentry ended her little speech with a self-deprecating laugh that Harden and Bruno did not return. She squirmed, not from the cold, but from the glare emanating from Harden’s icy blue eyes. So icy, so blue, they seemed neon in the glow from the streetlight.

  “You stood in my office, accepted my protection, and agreed to live with me. Did you not?”

  She had, but she really didn’t mean it. She agreed to get rid of Calista. Not that she could tell him that now. Not with him glaring daggers at her.

  “You live he
re?” Harden’s head kicked to the building next to them.

  “Yes,” she whispered and huddled in her coat seeking additional protection.

  He held out his hand. “Keys.”

  She didn’t think about denying him. You didn’t say no to a man like Harden Gage. He took what he wanted because he could. She’d dealt with men like him before and had always come out the loser. Well, almost always. There was the one time she won.

  It took seconds to retrieve her keys from the bottom of her purse and drop them into his outstretched palm. He stepped aside, clearly giving her the lead. She didn’t want the lead. She wanted to hide. Even glanced at Bruno for aid. His expression was just as hard and unforgiving.

  She climbed the four stairs to the front door. Harden pushed it open before she touched the metal bar. Poorly lit, the foyer was shadowed and littered with scraps of trash: candy wrappers, empty bags of chips, random pieces of papers, take-out containers.

  She took the stairs, seven flights up. The stairs were safer than the rickety elevator. Neither man complained when she wanted to. Her calves ached from work. She wanted a long soak and a longer nap. Listening to the heavy thud of footsteps behind her, who knew when that would happen.

  “I’m here.” She pointed to the metal door painted skid mark brown. He handed her the keys, probably because she had hers, her mother’s, and a spare set of Jane’s all on one ring.

  How did I leave the apartment? She couldn’t remember yet was certain it was a disaster. And she was right. The studio apartment was a closet. A messy closet. She hadn’t folded the sofa bed, hadn’t even made it. There was a pile of clean clothes on her only chair only because laundry day was yesterday. Dishes filled the sink, but that was better than them spread all over the place. The only clean spot was Allie’s playpen.

  Behind her the men entered. She suffered their silent judgement and couldn’t do anything about it. She wasn’t surprised or upset. Everyone judged her. What else was new?

  She had no idea what to take. Good thing she didn’t have much. A garbage bag would fit everything.

  “Where’s the kid?” Bruno asked.

  “Upstairs with the sitter.”

  “Where’s the crib?” Harden snapped.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him standing near the door. “No room.” Plus, she couldn’t afford one, and she refused to beg for the crib at her mother’s house. Anyway, Allie slept more with her than she did in the playpen.

  Allie’s things got packed first. Clothes, toys, diapers, formula, and food. Jentry’s clothing went into a second garbage bag. Bruno took both without asking. When she started breaking down the playpen, Harden piped in with, “Leave it.”

  “Um. But where will she sleep?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s covered. You need anything else in here?”

  She took a quick glance around her two-room apartment. “No.”

  He held the door open for her. She grabbed her purse and keys, and she was ready to go. Stepping over the threshold, she didn’t look back. The stairs to the eighth floor brought her to the corner apartment with Harden on her heels.

  It took five rings of the doorbell and more than a few hard knocks before she heard shuffling feet. Jentry looked into the peephole and waited for the locks to disengage.

  “I thought you were gonna pick her up in the morning,” Mrs. Francis grumbled.

  “It is morning,” Harden said, drawing attention to himself.

  Mrs. Francis looked over Jentry’s shoulder at him, and frowned. “Later in the morning.” She stepped aside and let them enter her two-bedroom mansion, locking the door as soon as they cleared the entrance.

  “Allie’s asleep in the second bedroom.” Mrs. Francis veered toward the kitchen while they tracked deeper into the apartment and through the sleeping bodies of five elementary school-age kids. Harden paused, taking in the kids sleeping on mats, thin blankets covering them.

  She moved ahead and pushed open the bedroom door. A nightlight illuminated the sleeping forms of four infants. Two on the bed. Two in a playpen. She grabbed Allie’s blanket and swaddled her. Her little sugar pop opened her soft brown eyes and smiled sleepily.

  “Where’s her coat?”

  She didn’t miss the hard edge to his voice and swallowed her defensiveness. He was just another person judging her. “We’re getting in the car, right?” He nodded at her in answer. “Then she’ll be fine wrapped in the blanket.”

  Jentry cradled her daughter in her arms, shushing her when she gave a small protest. Allie liked her beauty sleep. Harden seemed like he wanted to help, but didn’t know what to do, so he moved out of the way. When in doubt, do nothing. At least he wasn’t making things worse. Jentry guessed that was better than nothing.

  Mrs. Francis met them in the living room, arms folded, mouth pressed into a mulish line. She was a big woman, taller than Jentry and at least eighty pounds heavier, all in the gut. “You owe me money.”

  Jentry dug into the front pocket of her jeans for the one hundred and sixty dollars. “It’s not everything,” she murmured.

  Mrs. Francis counted the bills, scowling at the amount. “This isn’t even half what you owe.”

  Jentry could feel Harden’s presence behind her. “That’s one sixty. I owe you three hundred.” Do the math. “I work tomorrow and will get you the one forty I owe.”

  “What about this week, huh? This week is another one fifty. You don’t have all my money by Friday, don’t bring your kid back.”

  Already three months behind on rent, eviction proceedings would begin soon. She had to pay her rent this month. And she had to pay the babysitter because she had to work.

  Harden Gage coasted around her, his wallet in his hand. Jentry didn’t see how much money he pulled out, but she heard it in the crispness of each bill. “That covers everything she owes.” He turned to Jentry. Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for her compliance to head for the door.

  Jentry stalled as Mrs. Francis counted the five one hundred-dollar bills in her hand. Great, now she owed him money, plus a roof over her head. No. Calista owed Harden for the apartment. Jentry owed him for everything after that. Fuck!

  “This will get you current until next week,” Mrs. Francis said, pleased.

  “The child won’t be back,” Harden stated, and his tone left no room for discussion. “I said, let’s go.”

  He led the way, and Jentry followed him out the door and down the stairs. “Do you need help carrying her?” he asked before they descended.

  Allie was a solid baby, but she was used to the weight. And it gave her something to hold on to, grounded her reality to this sudden unreal situation she found herself in. “No. I have her.”

  One hand gripping the railing, the other holding Allie in a death grip, Jentry took her time on the stairs, some of them broken, many of them chipped.

  “Give me the child.” He didn’t wait for her consent before plucking Allie out of her arms while at the same time using his body to steady Jentry. Taken by surprise, by the absence of Allie and Harden’s full body contact, she stumbled and would’ve fallen, but Harden kept them both safe.

  “You alright?” he asked, curling his body protectively around them.

  No! Her baby was in the arms of a killer. So was she as he sheltered her against him, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it except nod and say, “Yes, Mr. Gage.”

  A grimace twisted his lips, but he spun without further comment and was holding the door open for her in the lobby by the time she caught up.

  Bruno waited at the car with the rear door open, his gaze scanning the area. Until he did a double take on Harden holding Allie. Other than his eyebrows touching his hairline, his face remained blank. Jentry would’ve laughed if she weren’t as stunned as Bruno.

  She wanted to take Allie, but Harden motioned for her to get in the car. She slid across the softest leather she couldn’t enjoy until her daughter was in her arms again. But Harden took his time entering. She couldn’t hear th
e conversation between the men, and didn’t care, she just wanted her baby, with a desperation bordering on frantic.

  How the hell had Calista dragged Jentry and Allie into her fucking mess? Why! She silently screamed even as she realized some blame lay in her lap. No one forced her to work for Harden Gage. She knew exactly who he was when she accepted the job. An opportunity was how she saw it. An opportunity to take care of her baby without her family’s interference. An opportunity to own up to her mistakes and responsibilities.

  She was invisible. Always had been. Go to work. Keep your head down. Do your job. Get paid. And mind your damn business. It worked. Was working until her fucking cousin showed up with her drama and fucked up Jentry’s life. Now she was on Harden Gage’s radar, a place she never ever wanted to be.

  Finally, he folded himself into the car with Allie in the protective cage of his arms, his big hand cradling her head as he sat. And guess who was awake and watching Harden with wide clear eyes?

  Allie didn’t like strangers. She wasn’t a friendly baby. She had suspicious eyes and a resting bitch face, just like her mama, her grandmama, and her three aunts. Allie was a badass in training. Her giving Harden her gummy smile wasn’t what Jentry expected.

  And the mob boss seemed just as stunned as Jentry. He watched Allie as if she were a grenade with the pin already pulled and thrown away. Slowly, he handed the time bomb to her mother. Jentry tucked her close and softly hummed Allie’s favorite tune as the car started. By the time they crossed into Manhattan, Allie was asleep.

  Jentry looked up to find Harden staring at her. “Um…” The man made her nervous. His aura was all about authority, which she’d bucked her entire life until Allie forced her to grow up. No one challenged him. What he said was law. The man was powerful, and not just in the underworld, from what she read and heard whispered around the club. Everyone kissed his ass, though the only person she’d ever seen him deal with was Bruno, who seemed a lot nicer than his boss. Bruno interacted with the staff, knew their names.