Alexei (Her Russian Protector #8) (25 page)

After grabbing a trash bag, he marched me right into the master bathroom and started a hot shower. “You know the drill. Strip. Put everything in here. Toss it out the door when you’re done.”

“Even your jacket?” I asked, eying the expensive leather with guilt.

“You got his blood all over it. It’s going to the incinerator.”

“Stas, I’m sorry for—”

“Spare me,” he meanly retorted. “Just get clean.” He tossed the garbage bag onto the vanity and walked toward the door. Pausing there, he turned back to me. “Didn’t I tell you that you needed to keep him happy? Didn’t I warn you?” He exhaled roughly. “I would strongly suggest you spend the time you have thinking about all the ways you can make this up to him. Or at least figure out a way to keep him happy tonight,” he added. “Because if he puts you out on the street? You won’t make it to sunrise, Shay.”

His warning given, Stas stalked out of the bathroom. The door slammed behind him, and I jumped. Heart racing and stomach churning with anxiety, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The bruise on my cheek was now decorated by dried specks of blood. Every time I breathed, I smelled the acrid stink of the gunfire. My eardrums still ached from the close proximity of the shot.

Again and again, I replayed the moments before the gun fired. Lalo’s finger had been curved against the trigger. My hands had been wrapped around his wrists. He had either jerked the trigger when I kneed him in the stomach or when Kylee whacked him with that paperweight he had been using to threaten us. Technically, he had shot himself but I feared that was a thin, weak defense.

What happened if someone decided to talk to the police? Alexei, Stas, Besian and his crew—they were all highly recognizable men in the underworld. I feared a taste of hush money would be just enough to whet the appetites of the motel occupants. They might resort to blackmail or worse to get more money.

Would the police believe me if they picked me up? Would I even survive a night in lockup while the facts were sorted out? There were probably a dozen cops on the cartel payroll and twice as many inmates in the county jail ready to stab me in the neck for what I had done.

You’re panicking. Calm down. You can’t change anything now. It’s done.

I shrugged out of Stas’ jacket, peeled off

my hoodie and jammed both into the garbage bag. The rest of my clothes followed. Naked and shivering, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water blast my skin. I couldn’t get to the soap fast enough. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw and sensitive and then shampooed and rinsed my hair three times just to make sure every single strand had been stripped of Lalo’s blood.

While I let conditioner soak in, I touched my forehead to the milky white marble and closed my eyes.
Where are you, Shannon? Are you still alive?
I figured Ruben had ratted her out and Lalo had gone after her. She had either escaped before he could grab her or she had been kidnapped and hauled away before I had arrived.

Remembering what Lalo had said before he died, I wondered how deep the identity theft scam really went. I suddenly understood why he hadn’t fought to protect Ruben after the scam had been uncovered by Mr. Mueller. He must have known that it was only a matter of time until his connection was made public, either by a panicking Shannon or a scheming Ruben. Letting Mueller’s men hunt them down and kill them meant they would be silenced quickly.

But it hadn’t worked that way. Ruben and Shannon had escaped. I suspected Lalo had planned to use me as bait to draw Shannon in and silence her. That hadn’t worked either. It had all blown up in his face—literally.

Done with my shower, I dried off and wrapped up in the towel. I poked my head out of the bathroom door and discovered Stas leaning against the door frame, texting someone. He glanced up at me and then back down at the screen. “Where is your phone?”

“Kylee’s truck,” I answered, still hiding behind the door.

“If you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not!” Shocked by the way he was treating me, I snapped. “Oh my God, Stas! Yes, I made a huge mistake, but I’m still the same girl who watched reality TV with you last night. I’m the same girl you pinched with chopsticks at lunch when I stole one of your dumplings. I’m the same girl you taught to count to twenty in Russian this morning.”

“And I’m still a street soldier who takes orders and does what he’s told,” he retorted simply. “You made your choice. These are the consequences.”

“So what? I’m a prisoner now?”

He shoved his phone in his pocket and leveled a no-nonsense look my way. “I’d be very careful using that argument with Alexei. This so-called prison of yours is a hell of a lot nicer than the ones he knew.”

Neatly put in my place, I swallowed nervously. “Will you please step outside so I can get dressed?”

“You have five minutes. Bring that bag of clothing to the living room.”

After Stas left, I tried not to break down into tears again. He was right. If this was my punishment, it was so much better and easier than what I probably deserved. I was safe here, and no matter how angry Alexei was with me when he came back, he would never hurt me. He was probably going to yell but he wouldn’t put his hands on me.

I quickly slipped into the only nightgown that Alexei had packed for me. Feeling underdressed, I picked up the Markovic MMA hooded sweatshirt I had been wearing last night and put it on, leaving it unzipped and wearing it like a short-hemmed robe. I grabbed the bag of soiled clothing and left the bedroom.

Stas actually glanced at his watch as if to reinforce that the rules were different now. He took the bag of clothing from my hand and gestured to the kitchen. “You should eat something. Toast, juice, an orange—you need to put some food in your stomach. After that, we’re going to talk about your alibi. Then you’re going to sit quietly on the couch and wait for Alexei. Understand?”

“Yes.” I understood perfectly. The bright promise of a future with Alexei and the glimmer of friendship I had hoped to share with Stas had been shot to hell with one stupendously bad decision.

*

Parked in the rear section of a junkyard owned by one of Besian’s people, he waited for Nikolai. He wanted to be anywhere except the Pasadena area, but he had been given his orders so he here sat. Glancing at the clock, he made a face. How much longer was this going to take?

Alexei drummed his fingertips on the dashboard and scanned his dark surroundings. The heavy rainfall obscured most of his vision. Already on edge, he stared hard at the shadowy shapes of stacked and crushed cars and tried to decide if he was really seeing movement or not. It would be so fucking easy to ambush him.

He wasn’t a man prone to nervousness but tonight? Shit, his stomach was in knots! This was two nights in a row Nikolai had been dragged away from Vivian to deal with problems caused by Shay or her sister. If the boss wasn’t in a very charitable mood, it could be disastrous for her.

The longer he sat here, the more Alexei worried. What if he had been sent here by the boss so Stas could take Shay to some remote location? What if the boss double-crossed him and handed her over to Hector Salas as a peace offering?

He wouldn’t do that to you.
Stop fucking panicking.

But if Alexei was wrong, if his trust in Nikolai had been misplaced, he would never forgive himself for the cold, callous was he had sent her away.

Just when he started to despair, a pair of headlights bounced off the dented grille of a car. He leaned forward and spotted first one SUV then another and another and another. When it was all done, there were two SUVs parked on either side of his and four surrounding them. He recognized the guard vehicles driven by Danila and Ilya as well as the Escalade that had brought Besian and the silver Land Rover that Nikolai preferred but the ice white G-Class was unknown to him.

Street soldiers poured out of their vehicles, some of them taking up positions facing out toward the junkyard to keep watch and others hustling to open doors for their bosses. Boychenko hopped out of driver’s seat of the Land Rover and quickly popped open an umbrella. He hurried to Alexei’s door and rapped his knuckles on the glass.

Answering his summons, Alexei stepped out into the rain and grimaced as cold, dirty water rushed around his ankles. Boychenko shot him a
you are so fucked
look before gesturing with a jerk of his head. Shielded by the umbrella, Alexei crossed the short distance to Nikolai’s vehicle and slipped into the passenger seat open next to the boss.

A moment later, the driver’s door opened and Besian slipped behind the wheel. As Besian combed his fingers through his wet hair, the front passenger door opened and none other than Hector Salas slid onto the empty seat there. Surrounded by some of the most dangerous men in the city, Alexei wondered if he was going to end up shot and tossed into the trunk of a car.

“You really know how to celebrate a man’s birthday, Nikolai,” Hector Salas remarked with a dry laugh. Not yet thirty, the former cartel enforcer had carried out a coup against Lorenzo Guzman with ruthless efficiency. Reputed for his Machiavellian intelligence, he had the good looks of a model and the well-honed body of a fighter. It was no surprise men had been willing to betray their leader for him. He was the sort of man other men emulated and followed. “I didn’t even have to blow out my birthday candles to get my wish.”

Thrown by Hector’s comments, Alexei glanced at Nikolai. The harsh expression on the boss’ face warned him to keep quiet.

“This wasn’t the way I wanted this go down,” Nikolai finally said. “We needed more time to groom your man and get the pieces in place before Lalo was neutralized.”

As if sharing Alexei’s confusion, Besian twisted in the driver’s seat for a better look at Nikolai. “When did we greenlight a hit on Lalo?”

“We didn’t,” Nikolai replied. “Not yet.”

“Is there something I’m missing?” Besian asked, clearly exasperated.

“That raid on his house for that dog fighting ring put him on my shortlist, but finding out he tried to rape some girl backstage at a concert?” Hector picked at something on the lapel of his jacket. “That was the last straw for me. Brutalizing women isn’t part of my rulebook. I won’t allow it.”

Alexei’s estimation of the young drug lord rose a few notches.

“Look, my business is moving product to the right salesmen and keeping my customers happy and satisfied. That’s it,” Hector said. “Lalo was always a greedy little fucker, skimming and taking and running his side deals. I turned a blind eye to it when I needed him to take on Lorenzo, but when that was done, I warned him to cut that shit out and walk the line. He thought he was smart enough to run his games behind my back, but I see everything. This bullshit with Ruben and the identity theft? It’s too much heat. This is the kind of shit that will send the FBI and INTERPOL right up my ass. Fuck. That.” Hector slashed his fingers in front of his throat. “That
puto
? He needed to go.”

“We didn’t bring this to the council because the hit was never supposed to happen here.” Nikolai’s irritated glare made the fine hairs on the back of Alexei’s neck stand right on edge. He had seen men on the receiving end of that look before and it never ended well. “We were going to wait until Lalo was in Hector’s territory, down south of the border. Romero was going to take care of it.”

“It’s easier to spin my version of the tale down there.” Hector turned in his seat and smirked back at them. “But I guess your girlfriend wanted to become part of the underworld legend.”

“Shay didn’t kill him,” Alexei insisted. “Neither did her friend. They were trying to defend themselves. Lalo shot himself while he was fighting Shay for control of the gun.”

When Nikolai glanced at Besian for confirmation, the Albanian boss nodded. “It looked that way to me and Devil. The gun was still in Lalo’s hand when he fell. His finger was wrapped around the trigger. So, technically, Lalo iced himself.”

“Technically isn’t going to sell very well on the streets,” Nikolai warned. “Those five men you picked up at the hotel? The ones you have tied up in your warehouse? They have big mouths and loud voices. All we need is one street thug with a soft spot for Lalo. He can make this very messy, very fast.”

“They’ll see things my way—or they won’t see at all.” Hector jabbed two fingers toward his eyes. “When they find out how much money Lalo was hoarding while they were starving on the streets? Their loyalty will vanish.” He snapped his fingers. “So you let me deal with them.”

“What do we do about the power vacuum?” Besian unwrapped a jawbreaker and tossed it in his mouth. “The last thing we need is violence on the streets.”

“There won’t be a vacuum,” Nikolai promised. “Hector is going to talk to Diego as soon as we’re done here. He’s the obvious choice and the best man for the job. He’s worked his way up from the streets to the top of the Hermanos hierarchy. He understands the men who work for him, and he’s earned their loyalty and their trust.”

“He’s quiet,” Hector said. “He’s not flashy. He believes in discipline. He’ll keep things quiet and calm.”

Seemingly reassured, Besian visibly relaxed. “What do you need from me?”

“Show your support to Diego,” Nikolai ordered. “Keep your men in your territory. The last thing we need is an incident while things are unsettled.”

“I’ll look up Nickel when I leave and get him on board,” Besian offered. “Do you want me to hit up Mueller?”