“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 was 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.
Had she attacked Lalo in self-defense? Was the cartel’s golden boy dead? Were his men chasing her?
“Shay! Calm down.” He used his most commanding voice with her, hoping it would calm her down and help her think straight. “Where are you?”
“I’m behind the Arena? I think? I don’t know what to do.”
The fear in her voice cut him deep. He squashed the pet names burning the tip of his tongue. This wasn’t the time to coddle her. He needed to keep her from panicking. He needed to be firm and give her quick instructions that would keep her safe and alive until he could find her.
“Can you get to one of the restaurants on Fondren? There’s a couple of fast food joints there.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll stay on the phone with you. I’m only a few minutes away on Hillcroft. I’ve been looking for you.”
I’ll find you, he silently swore.
Navigating the late night traffic proved tricky. He kept his ears perked and focused on the sounds coming from his speakers while his eyes were trained on the busy road in front of him. Every single intersection was agony. He just had to make one left onto the freeway and then he would be so close to her.
“Shay? Are you there?” She was being unnaturally quiet, and it worried him.
“Yes.”
“Can you see those restaurants?”
“I think so. Yes. I’m almost there.”
“Good. Keep moving. I’m coming for you.”
Every muscle in his body tensed as he raced toward the Arena. Flashes of violent memories from his time as an enforcer taunted him. All of the awful, terrible shit he had done haunted him now. Was Shay about to pay the price for his misdeeds? Was the universe going to settle that score by hurting the only woman who had ever tempted him to lower his defenses?
A sharp intake of breath and a rustle of clothing heightened his concern. “Shay? Is something wrong?”
“Lalo’s guys are in the parking lot. I can’t go there.”
He swore rudely and tried to think of a better option than asking her to hide. His mind recreated the surroundings of the Arena Theater. “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.”
As the sounds of her staccato breaths and the swish of her jacket echoed in his SUV, he gauged the traffic in front of him. The vehicles were creeping along the freeway as the backup of cars entering and leaving the concert venue caused a backup.
“Oh, God. Oh, God! Oh, God!” Terror drove her voice into a higher octave.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Shay? Shay! What is it?”
“It’s the truck that was at my house earlier! Shit. Shit.”
Judging by her hard breaths and the whoosh of fabric, she was racing now, sprinting like an Olympian toward the finish line. He couldn’t even imagine how scared she was. He had faced men with guns and knives and crowbars and worse during his many years in the mob, but he had never been afraid. He had been an arrogant prick and a man who enjoyed the explosion of adrenaline that came with brutal bloodshed.
He thought he had left that man behind—but he was wrong.
Listening to Shay running for her life? It had unleashed the monster inside him. With each terrified sob, the shackles chaining down the violent man he had tried to lockup and forget busted free. He was going to hurt someone tonight. He was going to hurt them badly.
“I’m on Southwest Freeway. I’m almost there. Just keep moving, Shay.”
She didn’t answer. She just kept running and panting and panicking. He heard the whine of brakes and car doors opening and closing. She whimpered like a cornered puppy, and his damn heart shattered in his chest.
“Oh, God.”
“Hold on, Shay!” He made a last minute decision to get off the freeway. Pressing on the accelerator, he beat the yellow light at the intersection and made a squealing right turn onto Bellaire. He had a vague idea of where she must have ended up and hoped his instincts were right.
Another call beeped in the background. Hoping it was Boychenko, he slapped at the touchscreen. “Roman?”
“Yeah?”
“Get over to the parking lots next to the Arena. The ones behind the dim sum place and that car stereo store,” he clarified. “Shay’s cornered. I’m on Bellaire. I may need your help.”
“I’m there.”
The call ended, and Shay’s picked right back up but he could only hear faraway sounds. Had she dropped the phone? Had it been taken from her?
There was suddenly a cry of pain ricocheting around the cab of his SUV. Shay began to beg and plead for her life. He couldn’t breathe. Was this it? Was he going to hear the end of her young and promising life?
The un
iverse gave him a lucky break when he needed to make a left turn across three lanes of traffic. There were no cars to be seen as he floored his accelerator and entered the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant. He went straight through the parking lot and started weaving his way through the rabbit’s warren of intersecting lots and loading and delivery docks for the businesses on that block.
Just when he started to despair, he spotted a truck parked at an angle in a dead end space between two buildings. He quickly slammed the brakes, reversed and then threw his SUV into drive. With his gas pedal jammed to the floorboard, he clenched his jaw and unlatched his seat belt. The bright lights of his SUV lit up the scene before him, and the blood pumping through his veins started to boil.
He was reduced to his most primitive state as he took in Shay on her knees and half naked in only her bra. There was a man standing behind her and two standing off to the side. The one in front of her held a baseball bat up to her cheek.
Beat. Hurt. Kill.
His brain stopped forming complete thoughts. The primal male instincts to protect and defend overwhelmed him. He was out of his SUV before it had even come to a full stop. Hell bent on destruction, he stormed across the pavement and headed right for that stupid bastard with the baseball bat. The other man was taller by an inch or two and well-built but he seemed startled to see someone rushing him.
Jaw clenched, neck tight and scowling, Alexei titled his forward and slammed his forehead into the man’s nose. The man cried out in pain but Alexei wasn’t done yet. Ignoring the ache spreading through his own head, he wrenched free the bat and cracked the man across the stomach before landing another blow to his ribs. The man dropped to the pavement in a bloody, gasping heap.
Armed and dangerous, Alexei turned his attention on the next closest target. One well-aimed strike to the ribs and a blow to the front of that one’s knees sent him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the third man shake free from his stupor and run. Alexei let him go before turning his attention to the man standing behind Shay.
This close, he could finally see why the man was standing there. He had tied Shay’s elbows and wrists together in a brutal knot that contorted her slim shoulders into an unnatural and painful position and then had looped a length of the rope around her neck. The fucker held onto the other end and pulled it tight like a leash. Blood trickled from Shay’s nose and soaked into the piece of cloth—a man’s handkerchief—that had been shoved into her mouth to gag her.