by Roxie Rivera
“Shay? Are you there?” Worry edged into Alexei’s voice.
I waited until I was well clear of the band buses to answer him. “Yes.”
“Can you see those restaurants?”
“I think so.” There were bright lights up ahead, just through a line of trees. “Yes. I’m almost there.”
“Good. Keep moving. I’m coming for you.”
Grateful for my Russian knight in shining armor, I burst through the tree line and experienced a wave of elation—but it was quickly dashed by the sight of small groups of men hanging around SUVs and cars. I recognized the white gleaming SUV as one that belonged to Lalo. Four of his guys stood next to it and bullshitted the night away with a circle of Hermanos gang members, their neck tattoos boldly displayed for all to see.
Shit. I quickly flitted back into the shadows of the trees and ran back toward the parking garage. There was no way in hell I was getting anywhere near those guys. The mix of Hermanos gang members and cartel enforcers on Lalo’s payroll meant certain death if I was caught.
“Shay? Is something wrong?”
“Lalo’s guys are in the parking lot. I can’t go there.”
He cursed in Russian. “There’s that dim sum restaurant on the other side of the parking garage. If you can’t get there, stay hidden. I’ll find you.”
When I rounded the back edge of the long parking garage, I came out between a parked police cruiser and a long line of cargo vans. For a split-second, I considered trying to find the police officer who drove that cruiser but then I caught sight of the blood on my hands. Almost naked under my jacket, I didn’t want to explain what had happened back in the Arena. If I got the police involved? I was a dead girl.
I scurried across the street and made it to the strip of parking lot behind Fung’s Kitchen. I skirted along the edge of a massive dumpster and hurried toward the main parking area that had much better lighting. As I walked fast, I noticed the bounce of headlights to my left. I glanced back to see if there was a vehicle turning into the parking lot and nearly had a heart attack.
“Oh, God. Oh, God! Oh, God!” I started running even before my brain could piece together what my eyes were seeing.
“Shay? Shay! What is it?”
“It’s the truck that was at my house earlier! Shit. Shit.” I was sprinting now, my strides tearing up the parking lot as fast as my legs would take me. I didn’t know where I was running or why. In a full-fledged panic, I had gone straight to flight mode. I didn’t want to stick around to fight.
“I’m on Southwest Freeway. I’m almost there. Just keep moving, Shay.”
I hooked a quick left across the next parking lot and slipped between cars. The truck revved its engines as those skinhead goons chased me. Barely able to breathe, I raced forward on wobbly legs. Somehow I managed to make it to the car stereo place. I swung around the side of the building and found myself in a large rectangular space between commercial buildings.
Up ahead, I could see a narrow outlet to the front of the shopping strip. That area nudged right up against the road Alexei was traveling down right now. If I could just get there…
Brakes squealed and car doors slammed closed behind me. I whirled around and tried to gulp down the dry ball of terror lodged in my throat. Four men advanced on me. One of them had a long piece of rope dangling from his hand. The other held a baseball bat.
“Oh, God.” My hand started to drop, and I could just barely make out the sound of Alexei shouting at me, telling me he was almost there.
But he wasn’t going to make it.
It was too late.
Chapter Four
One Hour Earlier
Alexei slipped his SUV into a parking space along the outer edge of the lot in front of the strip club. Besian Beciraj owned a string of adult entertainment spots around the city and this was one of his newest acquisitions. By the looks of it, the place needed a shitload of renovations. The club had a reputation as the place tired and rundown dancers found work at the end of their careers. Besian would have to sink a ton of money into revamping the business and discovering new talent to turn this sinking ship around, but if anyone could pull it off, it was the Albanian enforcer turned loan shark and mob boss.
Glancing around the parking lot, Alexei made sure his alarm engaged before crossing the pavement to the entrance. A pair of bouncers waited by the doors. They took one look and waved him inside. What would Shay say if she knew that he got VIP treatment in establishments like these? She’d probably wrinkle that dainty little nose of hers and shoot him a disappointed look. The thought of her reaction made his chest tighten with shame.
That girl has you wound right around that pinky finger of hers!
Shoving aside that troubling discovery, he passed the hostess station and angled toward the rear of the club where Besian had told him he would be waiting. The heat inside the club slapped him in the face, especially after that brisk walk across the parking lot. The scent of musky, spicy perfumes saturated the air.
Every now and then, he caught a lungful of that awful smelling body spray so many of the young male patrons were overusing. It was a product he forbid the employees at any of his dealerships. He glanced at the clueless twentysomethings doused in that ungodly scent who tossed wrinkled dollar bills onto the main stage in a disrespectful display.
As he passed the stage, he reached into his jacket and retrieved a pair of crisp twenties that he had tucked away there. He slid them onto the stage and winked up at the blonde who smiled down at him. In a club like this, forty dollars would probably cover the stage fees and tips she would be expected to pay at the end of her shift. At least she would be able to leave tonight with some cash in her pocket.
His good deed done, Alexei weaved around the tables and kept his gaze straight forward when he walked by the lap dance booths. He doubted the men hidden away there with dancers were only getting a private show for their thirty or forty bucks. It was an ugly side of the business but it was a reality, especially in a place like this.
When his cell phone began to vibrate, he answered it. “Yes?”
“Hey, it’s Boychenko. Can you hear me? The music is loud!”
“Yes, I can hear you.” He pressed his finger to his other ear and turned away from the DJ stand. “What’s wrong?”
“Look, there was a wreck so it took me longer than expected to get to this cleaning place. Your lady? She’s not here.”
“Has she gone home?”
“I don’t know, man. Does she drive a white car?”
“Yes.” His stomach knotted with worry. “Why?”
“It’s been beat to shit, Alexei. The windshield and windows are busted out. Someone took a sledgehammer to the side panels and the hood.”
“Is there blood?” He held his breath as he waited for an answer he didn’t want to hear.
“No. I checked. I think it was a message to her. Wait. Hang on. There’s a truck pulling into the parking lot.”
“What kind of truck?” He remembered the vehicle Shay had described. Had they come back looking for her?
“I think it’s the owner. He has decals on his doors and hood. Fuck it!” Boychenko said suddenly. “I’m going to go ask him where she is.”
“He might not talk to you, not after her car was just vandalized in his parking lot.”
“He’ll talk,” Boychenko murmured darkly. “I’ll call you back.”
The line went dead, and Alexei tried not to entertain the worst possibilities. Hopefully she had been at his dealership when the vandalism occurred. She could either be hiding out in the company headquarters or safe at home or with one of her friends. Knowing how much everyone liked Shay, she had probably gotten a ride somewhere with one of her coworkers or her boss. Roman would get the information they needed.
He checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a text or phone call from Shay. Why didn’t she call me? He tried not to get aggravated with her for not asking for his help after discovering her beaten up car but it wa
s difficult. Hopefully she would understand now that this wasn’t a game. Her sister had obviously pissed off the wrong people. Shay needed his help if she was going to get out of this unscathed.
Pocketing his phone, he spotted Besian sitting on a couch in the VIP area. The Albanian boss had one arm slung along the back of the leather seat and his legs extended in front of him as he watched four women dancing. He wasn’t there for the show. No, he was scrutinizing each movement they made as if they were race horses or greyhounds. Judging by the tight line of his mouth, one or more of those girls wasn’t going to make the cut tonight.
As Alexei slid onto the opposite end of the couch, he noticed the absentminded way Besian rubbed his chest. After taking a cartel sniper’s bullet earlier in the summer, the mob boss had bounced back remarkably fast. Or maybe he was just damned good at hiding the physical struggle.
Besian glanced at him and grinned. “Been a long time since you’ve slummed it like this, huh?”
Alexei frowned. “That’s a nice fucking way to talk about your own club.”
“Have you looked at this place?” Besian angled his upper body so they were talking face-to-face. “I had to toss half of the dancers here because they had prostitution convictions or were on pimp payrolls. I’ll be lucky if I see a profit in the next year.”
“So why the hell did you buy it?”
“It’s all part of the master plan,” he replied with a mysterious smile. “So what favor does Alexei Sarnov want from his old friend?” He gestured to the women gyrating to a slow Trey Songz track. “Is it time for a Marissa replacement?”
“No.” The hard edge to his voice seemed to rouse Besian’s attention.
“Oh. I see.” The Albanian sat back and chuckled softly. “You fucking Russians are falling one by one, huh? Ivan, Nikolai, Dimitri, Yuri, Sergei… It’s like popping cans lined up on a fence. So? Who is the lucky girl?”
“That’s none of your fucking business.” He wasn’t about to start spilling his secrets in a strip club.
Besian held up his hands. “Calm down.”
“Look, I came to talk about something that is your business.”
“Talk isn’t free or cheap here.”
Alexei reached under the lapel of his jacket and retrieved the money clip tucked away in his pocket. He started peeling off twenties and dropping them on the small, low stage for the women dancing there. Besian nodded after the first four hundred dollars and then switched to Albanian, “What do you want to know?”
Sliding easily into Besian’s mother tongue, Alexei asked, “What business does the AB have with one of Lalo’s street slingers?”
“Ruben?”
So Besian did know something. “Yes.”
Besian made a face and shook his head. “That’s bad fucking business, Alexei. You sure you want to get involved?”
“Yes.” I’ll do anything to protect her.
Besian blew out a breath and then leaned closer. “Ruben and his girlfriend cooked up some identify theft scam. The girlfriend is a cleaning lady, right? So she goes into these commercial buildings—real estate firms, financial planning offices, clinics—and she plugs in a flash drive when no one is looking. She infects the computers with some virus or whatever.” He moved his fingers like a big spider. “It crawls around in the company’s network and gathers up all the information they need to steal identities and open up credit cards and take out loans and mortgages and buy cars.”
Alexei swore nastily and ran both of his hands over his head. He tugged on his hair and gritted his teeth in frustration. Was Shannon the culprit behind the attempted hack at his company?
“What is it?”
He leaned forward and peeled off ten crisp fifties for the dancers to encourage Besian to keep talking. “She cleaned two of my dealerships, the luxury flagship store and the Toyota lot. My network people isolated the threat earlier today. They managed to keep the virus from stealing information from my clients but it was a close call. Too close.”
“You’re lucky. Other business owners? They got screwed. Bad,” Besian emphasized. “What’s worse? Those two idiots packaged up that information to sell it but they got greedy. They figured out a two-way split was better than three. So they planned to screw the hacker guy who helped them, but he found out Ruben was going to—”—Besian made a cutting motion in front of his neck—“—so he ran.”
“Where?”
Besian eyed the stage again, and Alexei sat forward to toss more cash onto it. Seemingly satisfied, the boss said, “He ran right to Mueller and told him all about the scam.”
“And?”
“And Mueller realized those three stupid fucks had stolen some sensitive information, if you know what I mean.”
“I do.” He could only imagine what awful, twisted secrets Mueller had hidden in the books for his business. Money laundering was a dirty necessity for the underworld bosses ruling this city. “Where is he? The hacker who ran?”
Besian tapped the floor beneath his feet.
Alexei stared at the highly polished concrete. It was no secret that Mueller was developing a major strip of retail space uptown. There were plenty of places to hide bodies there. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the best way to get rid of evidence. Kostya would blow a pupil if he found out one of his men had taken such an amateur route, but Mueller and his crew weren’t playing on the same level as the professional cleaner.
“Alexei, you should know that this went up for a council vote this morning. We agreed to let Lalo and Mueller clean house. Some of your people were hurt by this scam. Some of mine were, too. Lalo didn’t speak up for them or offer to settle it. From what I understand, he made arrangements for it to happen tonight.”
His gut churned violently. “Who was green lit? Just the girlfriend and Ruben? What about family?”
“Just those two, but you know how it goes with collateral damage…”
An invisible vise squeezed his heart. For a moment, he thought he really was having a heart attack. “Shit. Fuck.”
Besian tapped his shoulder. “What’s this about, bratan?” Dark eyes studied him intently. “Were you fucking the cleaning lady?”
“No!” Alexei slashed his hand through the air. “She has…” He stopped but had already said too much. There was no use in hiding it now. “There’s a younger sister.”
“I see.” Besian exhaled loudly and shook his head. “Alexei…”
“I know. Believe me. I fucking know.” This was the whole reason he preferred keeping a mistress. There was no emotional entanglement. It was clean and simple and there were rules.
Rules that he was about to blow up by doing whatever the hell was necessary to save Shay.
“Alexei, you better be damned sure this girl is the one. You’re talking about getting between Lalo and Mueller. And you might not have your old boss’ support on this one,” he warned. “He’s battle fatigued, you know? Some of his best men are still recovering from that awful shit that went down last month. And what if this blows up in your face? If your friends on the Chamber of Commerce and all those country club assholes you run with find out that you had to cross the line to save this girl? You can fucking kiss the reputation you’ve built as a successful, legitimate businessman goodbye.”
Everything Besian said was true but…
“She’s worth it.” He leaned forward and dropped the last of his cash, fifties and hundreds, on the stage for the women who had been dancing for them. Standing up, he straightened his cuffs. “You better put the word on the street. I won’t let anyone touch her.”
“No, I don’t think you will.” Besian regarded him carefully before rising to his feet and extending his hand. As they shook on it, Besian dragged him in closer. Staring him in the eye, he promised, “I’ve got your back. You do what needs to be done. I’ll smooth it over if Nikolai won’t.”
Alexei narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“You have connections I need if I’m going to make legitimate moves. That means you’re more
useful to me alive and whole than chopped up and buried under concrete.”
He snorted and clapped Besian on the arm. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Besian stepped back. “Good luck.”
“Yeah.” Almost two thousand dollars lighter but armed with much needed information, Alexei left the strip club. He checked his phone on the way out and noticed a text from Boychenko.
Boss man says he took her to the Arena to find her sister. Headed that way.
Alexei considered the situation he had unknowingly put Boychenko in and experienced a wave of guilt. If the kid tangled with Lalo or any of his enforcers, there would be hell to pay with Nikolai. Not wanting Boychenko to get into any unnecessary trouble, he shot him back a quick message.
Hang back. I’m on my way.
He slid into his seat and fastened his seatbelt. His mind raced as he drove down Richmond Avenue. He could think of a dozen different ways to save Shay and get her out of this mess her sister had created, but he couldn’t think of one viable option for saving Shannon. He had no leverage and nothing to trade for her. She was complicit and guilty and the underworld dons would want her to pay the price for her crime.
How the hell was he supposed to tell Shay that he couldn’t save her sister? She would hate him for failing her. She would despise him for breaking her trust in their friendship. Before he had even had a chance to find the courage to pursue her properly, the possibility of building something real with her would be snuffed out like a candle flame.
He had just turned onto Hillcroft when his phone started to ring. The Bluetooth connection in his vehicle answered the call. Hard, panicked breaths poured out of the speakers. Instantly on alert, he answered, “Hello?”
“Alexei!” A woman sobbed his name. It took him a moment to realize that was Shay’s voice all twisted up with fear and panic.
“Shay?”
“Oh my god! Alexei! I need your help.” She began to cry. “They trashed my car and then Lalo tried to—” She broke off for a moment before continuing, “And I hit him and he’s bleeding everywhere. God, I’m so scared.”
Lalo tried to what? He wanted to scream the question, to demand she tell him what that son of a bitch had done to make her cry, but then he zeroed in on what she had said. He’s bleeding everywhere.