Unjustified Demands (Filthy Florida Alphas Book 2) (22 page)

I watch from the window in the study while the lights of the limousine disappear. Watching him leave fills me with a feeling of doom. Is today the beginning of the end? He said he had to go to work, not to visit my brother, but would he tell me if he was? He promised he was just going to help him get completely sober and then he would let him go. What Allen did from there on out would be up to him.

But Roman probably won’t get that chance.

I’m sure Paul is working overtime on ways to set Roman up, especially since I have been MIA and ignoring his phone calls. Just the thought of that man and what he could be up to causes fear to fill me. I turn cold, fine sweat breaking out over my body. I’ve begged Roman to be careful and warned him that Paul will be looking to bring him down. I’ve even taken to searching the house and the limo, just in case whoever else Paul has on the inside might try to plant what I wouldn’t. I’ve not found evidence of anything going on, but that doesn’t do a lot to make me feel better. I wrap my arms around myself, my thoughts somehow chilling the whole room, unease filling me. I need to do something. 

“Do you need anything, Ms. Stevens?” One of the security guys that Roman has on staff asks me. I forget his name, but then there are so many people working for Roman, there’s no way to keep them all straight.

“I’m fine. Thanks. I was just about to lie down. I seemed to have developed a headache,” I lie.

“Fine. If you need anything, you can hit the number zero on the phone. That will call security.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, watching as he leaves the room.

Once he does, I count to ten. Then I worry that’s not enough and count to ten again. Panic fills me and I worry it’s still not enough. By the time I’ve counted enough times to hit fifty, I figure I need to quit stalling. I move over to the fake ferns that are in the entry way planter along with multicolored flowers. They were so lifelike, I thought they were real—until I touched them. I guess when you have enough money, even fake flowers can look better than real ones. It takes me a little bit of digging because I buried the phone well, not wanting anyone to find it. Once I wrap my hand around it, I breathe a little easier. I get it and then start looking towards the back of the planter for the battery. It takes a few minutes to find it and then I walk to the sofa and sit down with the newly assembled phone. I stare at it a minute before turning it on. Then I dial Paul’s number and wait. It doesn’t take long—two rings.

“About fucking time. What the fuck are you doing at Anthe’s house? You know what the fucking plan is.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“Don’t be completely stupid, Ana. Did you carry out your orders?”

“No, Paul. I need to talk to you. I think—” I would argue more, but the phone goes dead. That’s when the fear really hits. I swallow against the bile rising in my throat. It’s time for me to either come clean with my superiors and hope they are more trustworthy than Paul, or come clean with Roman. Either choice is bad. There’s no guarantee that my captain will even listen, and given the choice, I know the majority of the team members will back Paul over Roman, who they view as scum. To them, they’d just be getting another perp off the streets. Telling Roman means warning him and betraying my badge—and it also means admitting to Roman that I’ve been lying to him since day one.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Either choice is going to be hell.

The house phone rings and I jump. I shut my phone back down. I don’t take the battery out of it again, however. There’s no point. Paul knows where I’m at, and it’s clear he’s not about to try and contact me now. I reach over and grab the telephone and, reading Roman’s cell number on the caller I.D., I go ahead and answer it.

“Hey,” I whisper, hoping he can’t hear the worry and panic in my voice.

“Pet, there’s a business dinner tonight. I’ve tried to get out of it, but there’s no way. It begins at seven.”

“Oh, okay,” I tell him, a little disappointed. “What time will you be home?”

“Be home? Ana, you will be going to the dinner with me. There’s a blue dress in your closet that I picked out personally. Put it on, and wear your hair down—I don’t like it when you wear it up. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up just like that, and I stare at the phone wondering what the hell just happened. My worry over everything going on with Paul and Roman takes a back seat as I replay the conversation in which Roman doesn’t ask if I want to go to a dinner; he just demands it, then instructs me on what to wear and how to fix my hair. Anger takes the place of worry. The asshole just expects me to fall in line like everyone else in his life. I decide to concentrate on him being an asshole and not on the impending doom that’s breathing down my neck. I’ll make up my mind on whether I should come clean with Roman or the detective in charge of the investigation tomorrow.

Tonight, I have a lesson to teach Roman Anthes.

“Who the fuck is this?”

I watch as Ana’s brother looks at the fucker that Bruno just threw down at the man’s feet. The bastard in question is hogtied. He couldn’t move if he wanted to. Marcum really is a master when it comes to ropes. He’s got a gag in his mouth and the bruises on his naked body and face tell me that this was a job that Marcum enjoyed.

“He doesn’t look familiar?” I ask Ana’s brother.

You can see the exact moment recognition hits him. Allen’s body literally shakes with it. Then he goes pale, so motherfucking pale I’m starting to think the son of a bitch is going to pass out in front of me. Slowly, I see the heat of anger replace every other emotion.

“Ana fucking told you?” he screams. “That fucking cunt had no right! Get him out of here, you all fucking need to just get out of here. Kill me already! Stop torturing me! Who the fuck do you think you are? I can’t…”

I stop his tirade by grabbing him by the neck and slamming him hard against the wall. I squeeze his neck so tight, his face begins to turn blue. His hands don’t even come up to defend himself. Then I look into eyes, eyes so much like Ana’s that it’s unreal. Except these eyes are full of an emotion I never want to see in Ana’s:
misery
. The son of a bitch truly wants to die. It’s time for some hard truths and it seems I’ve been elected to deliver them.

“Not one more fucking word about Ana. The reason you’re alive right now, motherfucker, is because of Ana. The reason I’m giving you even a ghost of a chance is because of Ana. For some fucking reason, she loves you. She believes in you. I’m a selfish asshole, so I have to tell you. If you were anyone besides her brother, her even caring for you would be the end of you. Instead, I’m giving you someone to take your aggression out on. I get you’re fucked up in the head. I had to hear my woman cry. She’s innocent to the slime in this world. She hasn’t been exposed to the shit we have. You and I know how fucking twisted shit is. Ana doesn’t. A frightened girl ran and hid from a bastard not knowing her brother would even be considered a victim. You get that? She didn’t know.” I see the need to argue with me in his eyes. I let off the pressure on his neck slightly—not enough for him to talk and argue, but enough so he can breathe. “What you don’t know is that once she knew, she tried to get the monster’s attention away from you. She tried to sacrifice herself to keep him from going after you again. What you don’t know is that she blames herself every fucking day. So you need to get your head out of your ass. Focus your anger on this bastard until you can start to breathe clear again.”

“What do you know about anything?”

“A fuck of a lot more than I’ll ever tell you.”

I see indecision in Allen. I let Allen stew in everything while I instruct the boys to untie our plaything and chain him up on the wall.

“What’s it matter? I go to jail. I don’t have anything to live for anyways. Just fucking end me and stop torturing me. Word on the street was, you don’t let people breathe air that cross you. Jesus, why are you putting me through this shit??
End me already!
” Allen says, screaming his last command, his whole body shaking from the force of it.

That’s when it hits me.
Full-on. In the fucking face.

“You picked my club because you had a death wish. That’s why you ignored my warnings. That’s why you kept coming back, even knowing you were getting on the Russian’s radar?”

The kid shrugs, but avoids my eyes. “I figured between you and Kuzma…” he says, but doesn’t finish the thought.

“If you wanted to die so fucking bad, why not just eat a bullet?”

“Because no matter how bad I wanted to end it, I could never pull the fucking trigger!
There!
Satisfied?”

“What if I told you I had enough power to keep you out of jail?” Allen’s face jerks up to me. Disbelief is clear, but there’s something else.

“Why would you be willing to do that?”

“Because you matter to Ana.” I tell him the truth. I’ve come to the conclusion I’d do anything for Ana. Absolutely anything. Even save her worthless brother. Though, if I want to think about it, I can admit to seeing a little more in him now. Maybe something even worth saving.

“You’re that gone over my sister?” he asks while I take off my jacket and lay it over the top of a chair. Ana is something I’m not discussing with Allen. Something I’m not discussing with
any
motherfucker. I motion to Bruno and he tosses me the baseball bat I brought earlier.

“You gonna help me end this motherfucker or not?” I ask him, gripping the bat and walking to the son of a bitch who is squirming against the wall, but knows it’s useless.

“Why are you helping?”

“Because he touched Ana. For that alone, he’s not allowed to breathe anymore.”

Allen is silent for a minute, and then I see half a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m going to help. You first, though, because I want to finish him.”

I can’t argue; given Allen’s history, I’d demand that too. 

“Batter up, then,” I tell him, right before my bat drums into the side of our prey’s head. I have to remind myself to pull my swings so Allen has something left to play with.