Zel: Markovic MMA (40 page)

“What are you watching?” Stas handed me a cup wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s really hot.”

I blew across the top of the steaming liquid, creating little ripples in the chocolate drink. “Some reality show about bankrupt restaurants.”

“Have you ever worked in a restaurant?” He went back to the kitchen and returned to the living room with a cup of coffee and Alexei’s abandoned plate of cold eggs and toast.

“I waited tables and washed dishes in a couple of different places when I was in high school, but eventually, I switched to cleaning offices and homes. What about you?”

“I was a dishwasher and did some cooking before I shifted to this line of work.” He placed his food on the coffee table and dragged the table closer to the sofa. After plopping down on the opposite end, he dug into the cold eggs and toast.

“And what exactly is this line of work?” I took a tiny sip of the hot cocoa and waited for him to answer.

Stas shot me a funny look. “I would have a thought a woman in your position would know not to ask questions like that.”

“A woman in my position? And what the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” He gestured around the apartment with the half-eaten slice of toast. “It means that the tradeoff for all this is that you don’t ask questions about where the money comes from. This is a nice step up for you.” He took another bite of his toast. “You went from cleaning toilets to playing private maid for a man like Alexei. Don’t fuck that up by asking about things that are none of your business.”

I couldn’t decide if I was more angry or humiliated by the way he had spoken to me. “Maybe you should take some of your advice and mind
your
business. I sure hope you didn’t have plans for that bonus Alexei promised you.”

Frozen like a deer in headlights, he had that piece of toast clamped between his teeth as he watched me.

“Yeah. That’s right. I heard you two talking back there. And let me tell you something, Stas. The second Alexei finds out you just spoke to me like that? He’s going to kick your ass all the way out the door and down eleven flights of stairs.”

Because he would. One thing this wild and crazy night had taught me was that Alexei wasn’t going to let anyone treat me badly. He wouldn’t stand for it—and I wasn’t going to stand for it either.

Stas put down his toast and swallowed loudly. “I’m sorry, Shay. You’re right. I should mind my own business.”

“Your damn right you should,” I muttered grumpily. “For your information, I’ve never taken a penny from Alexei. I work hard. I have a college degree. I’m saving to start my own business. Everything that I own is
mine
.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I can see that I did, but that wasn’t my intention.” He drank some coffee and shook his head. “I was just trying to warn you, to remind you that asking questions about men like me and men with a history like Alexei’s can get you in a lot of trouble.”

“I’m not stupid, Stas. I know that.”

“So why did you ask about my line of work?”

“Because I’m curious? Because I was trying to be nice? There were other ways to answer that question without being a jerk, you know?”

“Yeah. I know,” he glumly replied. “Maybe I’m just an asshole. Did you think about that?”

“You made me hot cocoa. An asshole wouldn’t have done that.”

He actually smiled. “I really am sorry for the way I behaved.”

I wiggled back into the corner of the sofa and curled my knees up tight. “I really am sorry that you aren’t getting your bonus for tonight.”

Stas laughed and picked up the plate of cold eggs. “That’s fair.” He leaned back and ate quietly while I tried to figure out what was happening on the television screen. During a commercial, he said, “My mom and I came to the States when I was four. I was a good kid. I stayed out of trouble. I went to school. Hell, I even played football and ran track. I thought I would go to college and be a stock broker or some shit like that.”

“So how does a good kid with aspirations for the American Dream end up working for someone like Nikolai?”

Stas rubbed his fingers together in a universal symbol I recognized. “Money.”

“Gambling?” I asked, thinking of all the families in my neighborhood who had been ruined by gambling debts and playing the lottery.

“No. Much worse.” He put down the empty plate and picked up his coffee cup. “Medical debt.” He took a drink and seemed almost hesitant to delve into memories that I suspected were painful and sad. “Mom had cancer. Ovarian,” he said, “but by the time they caught it, she was all eaten up inside. The treatment was expensive, and she didn’t have health insurance. A friend of mine? His uncle was the boss back home so I asked him for work, and nine years later, here I am.”

“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.