Alexei (Her Russian Protector #8) (2 page)

While I was pulling on a clean uniform for the janitorial company where we worked, I heard the front door open and close. The loud thumping bass of reggaeton music from our short driveway rattled the windows as Ruben’s new and very shiny SUV idled in front of our single-wide mobile home. I tried not to think about all the danger Shannon was in every time she went somewhere with Ruben but I couldn’t just flip off that switch from caring to not caring. She was my big sister and I loved her and desperately wanted her to make better choices.

But I also had to acknowledge that what I considered a simple, black and white decision wasn’t so simple for Shannon. She had been in love with Ruben since they were both young teenagers. I could still remember the giggly fourteen-year-old version of my sister confessing to me that she loved Ruben after sneaking back into our house from a party.

Back then, he had been flirting with the idea of jumping into the Hermanos street gang. It wasn’t long before he made the commitment and started rising through the ranks of dealers who helped push the cartel’s products onto Houston’s streets. Shannon had walked away from Ruben for a short time after our mom bailed on us but that separation hadn’t lasted long. Four months later, they were back together.

Convincing her to give up on the man she had loved for twelve years? It wasn’t going to happen. For better or worse, she had committed herself to Ruben and the dangerous life he lived. I loved my sister and didn’t want to lose her so I had been forced to accept Ruben wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t like it, and I worried that he was going to get her in so much trouble, but she was an adult who could make her own choices.

Dressed in my pink scrub-style uniform and comfortable but ugly white shoes, I grabbed a light jacket and my purse before locking up and leaving the house. I had some time before I needed to leave so I decided to check the mail. It was a short walk across the trailer park to the community center where the mailboxes were located. I slipped into my jacket as I crossed the street, careful to avoid the puddles filling the potholes in the craggy pavement.

“Hey, Shay!” Little Homer Rodriguez peddled his short, chubby legs as fast as they would go as he whizzed toward me on the hand-me-down bike that had once been belonged to his older brothers. He rode his bike dangerously close to the middle of the road, and it made me nervous. It was getting dark, and the street lights in our park were so dim. The oilfield guys who lived along this street would start racing down this street soon. Tired from long shifts, they might not see him until it was too late.

“Homer! Dude, get out of the street!” I waved him over to the broken sidewalk. “Your mom is going to flip her lid if she sees you riding in the road like that.”

He took my warning to heart and angled his bike toward the side of the raod. His heavy backpack sagged down too low and threw off his balance as he hit a pothole. He splashed my pants with muddy water. “Oh man! I’m sorry, Shay.”

“It’s okay.” I smiled at him and didn’t dwell on the stains. By the end of my cleaning shift, my pants would look much worse anyway. “Here. Let me fix your backpack.”

He sat still while I adjusted the straps on his bag. “Hey, Shay?”

“Yeah?” I fought with the too-tight buckle on the strap.

“Do you need wrapping paper or cookie dough?”

Not really
, I thought, but I had a feeling I knew where this was going. “Maybe. Why?”

“We’re selling things for school. It starts on Monday. If I sell the most stuff in my grade, I get to ride in a limo and go to a pizza party!”

I was glad he couldn’t see my face as I fixed his backpack. The memories of being the only kid in school who had to explain why my fundraiser sheet had lots of entries but no money in the envelope made my stomach churn violently. The humiliation of having to admit that my mother had stolen the money to gamble still made my cheeks burn and my chest tighten.

“So do you want to see the order form?”

“Sure, but not tonight,” I replied, pushing aside those ugly memories of my dysfunctional childhood. “I’m headed to work. Why don’t you come see me tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

I finished adjusting his backpack and stepped away from him. “Stay on the sidewalk until you get home. Say hello to your mom for me.”

“I will.” He smiled that boyish gap-toothed grin of his and pedaled away down the sidewalk.

I watched him for a few seconds, just to make sure he kept off the street, and then turned toward the small building that housed the mailboxes and a community laundry room. I found only a handful of bills and the weekly batch of coupons and ads. I quickly sorted out the coupons I would use from the ones I wouldn’t and left the rest in the stack of glossy sheets on top of the mailboxes for someone else to use.

While ripping into the electricity bill, I headed out of the building and back toward our house. I grimaced at the amount due and wondered if Shannon would be able to help with her half this month. If I had to cover the entire amount, it was going to eat into my Christmas savings. It was hard not to be irritated with her about the bill when she was the one who left lights on and ran the ceiling fan in her bedroom when we weren’t home and kept the television in her room blaring all night long.

I glanced down at my pants and decided the muddy splotches were just too big to ignore. Even though I really didn’t have the time, I ran back inside the house and switched to a clean pair of uniform pants. While I locked the front door, I heard a vehicle pull up behind me but didn’t think much of it.

This was a busy street, especially with Mrs. Rodriguez and her big family a few houses down. Her older boys had friends over for dinner every single day. How she could afford to feed a dozen hungry mouths every night I would never understand but she did it and always with smile on her face. There had been many, many times over the years when my hungry belly had been filled by her kindness.

“Shannon Mitchell?”

I whirled around at the unknown male voice that called my sister’s name. Three men I had never seen before were standing in front of a double cab black truck. I didn’t like the look of them—or the tattoos I could see from this distance. I gulped nervously at the sight of all that ugly white supremacist ink. There weren’t many things that scared me but as a dark-skinned Latina girl? Facing off with these three monsters had my knees knocking together.

The tallest of the three stepped forward. He had meaty arms and massive hands that I was sure had done a lot of dirty, mean things. “Are you Shannon Mitchell?”

I managed not to jump when he barked at me. “No.”

“So you’re the little sister then, huh? Shay, right?”

I nodded silently. What the hell were these men doing here? Why were they looking for my sister?
Shannon, what have you done now?

Before I could muster the courage to ask what these guys wanted with my sister, the roar of motorcycles barreling down our street drew my attention. Normally, I tried to steer clear of the motorcycle gang that our landlord, Spider, ran with but today? Today I wanted to drop to my knees and thank the heavens for the small crew of rough, leather-clad men riding to my rescue.

Spider killed his bike first, popped the kickstand and slowly slung his leg over the seat. He had recently cut his hair and somehow it made the Calaveras MC Vice-President look even scarier. The neighborhood had become so quiet as people watched the faceoff in my front yard. I could hear the leather of his vest creaking as he moved. His heavy boots crunched grass as he took deliberate steps between me and those terrifying men. “You boys lost?”

“We have business here, Spider.”

“If you have business on my property and in my territory, your boss needs to lift the white sheet off his head, pick up a phone and ask me for permission.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that message on,” the man said. “But since we’re already here, Mueller wants to talk to her. I’m just here to pick her up for a little chat.”

A little chat? A cold spear of terror lanced my chest. If I got into that vehicle with those men, I wasn’t going to come back whole or alive.

Spider glanced at me. “Shay, do you know these men?”

Feeling braver now, I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“Do you want to go with them to meet with their boss?”

“No.”

“Do you want these men to leave?”

“Yes, sir. Very much,” I added forcefully.

He gestured to the truck. “You heard the lady. Get in your truck and get the hell off my property. You tell your boss that he needs to respect the boundaries—or else my boys and I are going to start making some visits of our own on your territory.” Spider pointed to the truck again. “Go.”

The three men glanced at Spider’s backup, smartly ran the odds and retreated to their vehicle. The tall one shot me a warning smile before sliding behind the wheel. “We’ll be seeing you around, sugar.”

His threat struck me cold. I gripped the handle of my purse and watched the truck disappear down the street. Two of Spider’s men, the ones who hadn’t dismounted from their bikes, followed the truck. I was relieved to lose sight of the tail lights but what would happen once I left my driveway? There was no way I could ask Spider or his men to tail me around Houston.

As soon as the truck disappeared from view, the VP turned toward me. Hands on hips, Spider stared at me and shook his head. He had always been something of a father figure to me. I had gone to school with his daughter Marley so it had been a natural role for him to assume after my own dad had been killed in a car accident. When the apartment I had shared with Shannon had been robbed, he had packed us up and moved us into this park so we would be safe.

“Well, hon, it looks like you’ve got some explaining to do.” Spider waved his tattooed hand in the direction the truck of white supremacists had taken. My gaze lingered on the heavy silver rings adorning his fingers. The skulls and letters were a language I didn’t speak. “How do you know those men?”

“I don’t.”

“You’re sure?” He narrowed his eyes in a way that warned me not to hide anything from him.

“Positive.”

“What about your sister?” When I waited too long to answer, Spider exhaled roughly. “Were they here looking for Shannon?”

Reluctantly, I nodded. “I don’t know why.”

“Considering the company she keeps, I can think of ten different reasons they might show up here and none of them are good.” He glanced toward the street and then back at me. “Those men won’t bother you again, not here at least, but you need to be careful, Shay. You tell your sister to clean up whatever mess she’s made and to do it fast. I’m not about to get tangled up in some nonsense with Mueller’s boys.”

Mueller? The name was familiar but I couldn’t think why. Whoever Mueller was, it was clear that he was powerful and dangerous, maybe even more powerful and dangerous than Spider and his club. That didn’t bode well for me or Shannon.

Spider stepped closer and dropped his voice so only I could hear him. “I’m about to give you some fatherly advice, Shay. I would highly suggest you listen close and do what I tell you.”

I swallowed nervously. “All right.”

“Get out of here.”

The words weren’t spoken meanly or aggressively but I still shrank back with shock. “What?”

“Pack up your things and get out of here, Shay. It’s time for you to cut ties with your sister and start your own life. Away from here,” he added forcefully. “You’re a smart girl. You’ve got drive and ambition. You need to get out of here and make something of yourself. Cut the dead weight, sugar.” He made a snipping gesture with his fingers. “Go be somebody.”

It was probably good advice, but how was I supposed to just walk away from my sister? From the only person who had always been there for me? From the woman who had given up her dreams of cosmetology school and her own salon to raise me after Mom left?

“You stay safe, Shay.” Spider backed away slowly. “Be smart, honey.”

His advice given, he returned to his bike and left the street as quickly as he had appeared. I hurried to my car and fished my cell phone out of my purse as I unlocked the door on my dinged-up white sedan. The car was nearly fourteen years old but I had paid cash for it in high school and planned to drive it into the ground.

As I waited for my sister to answer, I slid behind the wheel and tried not to freak out totally. “Come on, Shan. Pick up.”

But she didn’t.

My call went to voicemail and I drummed my fingers on my thigh as I waited for her greeting to end. “Shannon, call me. Like right now. It’s important. Some skinhead creeps were looking for you. I think you should get out of town with Ruben.” I rubbed my forehead and hoped the swirling pit in my stomach would stop spinning. “I don’t know what you’ve done, and I don’t really care. Just call me, okay? I’m really worried about you.”

I dropped my phone in the cup holder and tossed my purse onto the passenger seat. I cranked the engine. It turned over with a little whine. How many times would this old beast light up for me? If I made it through the end of the year, it would be a miracle.

Seatbelt secured, I backed out of the driveway and headed out of our neighborhood. I didn’t miss the nosy neighbors watching my car creep along the road or the way they pointed and shook their heads. There was always some sort of trouble in the park but Shannon and I had never been the source of it. I could only imagine what wild stories would be circulating the neighborhood by sunrise.