I know Javi has a Porsche, but he was in one of his family’s Suburbans yesterday. I’m certain it was because he wanted a bulletproof shield around us. The Four Families have these behemoth SUVs that are souped up with a shit ton of aftermarket parts that make them practically tanks. Among other features, they’re entirely bulletproof from top to bottom and all the way around.
As I consider it, I realize he’s been showing me he’s determined to protect me since the first moment we looked at each other last night. He’s not a man to make false promises. At least not to the people who matter, and I must be among the ones who do. That makes my toes curl in my shoes as I load my bag into my trunk. I have to go back to the hotel here in Jersey that I was in before I arrived at my parents’ place the day before yesterday. It’s where the rest of my stuff is. I’ll check out there and head back into Brooklyn.
It’ll be another night alone, but I’ll see Javi again tomorrow. I haven’t felt lonely since I left Albany. I’ve felt free, even if I’ve been scared Drew or Javi would find me. As I drive away from Mom and Dad, loneliness settles over me. I refuse to befucking needy and mopey when Javi isn’t around. I won’t give up my hard-earned independence. But I wish I were going to see him rather than one empty hotel room then another. Rather depressing after how things were in his SUV a few hours ago.
As I drive, I check all my mirrors in a rotation, along with looking through the windshield. I’m searching for any car I recognize or might be following me. As I merge into traffic in Brooklyn, I’m certain there’s the same sedan I saw when I stopped at the Jersey hotel. I don’t want to go to the next hotel and lead someone to me. Though, the first hotel would have been an easy place to corner me.
Did Javi send someone? Is Maks and his family suspicious, and one of them sent a guy? Did Drew track me down?
I’m tired of my paranoia. I wonder if I’ll get over it. I want to tell myself it’s situational awareness, but since nothing’s happened—knock on wood—it must be an overactive imagination.
I circle the block a few times until I no longer see the car behind me. I breathe a little easier, but I still don’t go straight to the hotel. Instead, I swing through a drive-thru. I’m not hungry yet, but I will be later. I would’ve gone to the store since I have a full kitchen at this hotel, but now that I think I’m being—or was being—followed, that doesn’t seem like such a good idea.
I eat my fries to keep from winding up with soggy ones later. I pull into the hotel parking lot as I finish the last one. I look for a parking spot, and I could swear the car I thought was following me is now in the lot. But it was never close enough for me to see the license plate, so I can’t be sure. There’s no one in it, and I don’t want to get close enough to peek inside. I debate whether to go through the lobby or slip through the keycard-controlled side door like I did the few times I had to come and go before.
I decide to make an appearance through the lobby since I haven’t been around for a couple days. I made a massive detouron the way to my parents’ house, which was only a couple miles from my second hotel. I slipped back in here, messed up the bed, left a couple plates in the sink, and left a couple hairs in the bathroom sink.
That made me super anxious, but I hooked the hang tag on the door asking for housekeeping to come in. I knew their schedule for my floor, so I waited around the block until I figured they were done. I hurried back up to my room and put the hang tag back on the door but with the side saying Do Not Disturb showing.
Now I smile at the receptionist as I go by. Once I’m out of her sight, I hurry to the elevator. There’s no one in the lobby, so I don’t fear someone noticing me. I know there are cameras, but I keep my head down for most of my walk. I only wanted the receptionist to see me to confirm I’m still staying here. I don’t dally once I get off the elevator. I put my ear to my room’s door and listen. I hear nothing. I know I can’t avoid the sound of the door unlocking, so I press down on the handle to keep it from relocking, but I don’t open it.
Nothing happens.
I have my phone camera up as I lean against the door to make enough room for me to angle my phone without exposing myself. I use the camera to look around the limited area I can see. When I’ve done all I can to ensure no one’s in there, I walk in. I bolt the door and flip the metal latch.
I’d just gotten back from the store when Javi and Joaquin burst in. It’s why I was in the kitchen. I’d had my hands full, so I hadn’t set the bolt or put the bar across the door.
I check every corner until I’m satisfied there’re no cameras or listening devices I can find. I kick off my shoes near the sofa and turn on the TV. I’m still not hungry, but I force down my sandwich. By the time I’m done, my eyes are drooping. It’s not even that late, but I’m totally drained. I toss the wrappers andbags in the trash and am ready to drag myself to bed when I hear someone try to unlock the hotel door.
Chapter Seven
Javier
I brace myself for impact as I unlock the door.
“Javier?”
“Sí, Anna Maria, soy yo.” Yes, Anna Maria. It’s me.
For nearly six months, the promise of kinky sex excited me whenever I arrived, and my sub was already here. I’ve always let myself in, and that was part of the novelty. She didn’t know exactly when I’d show up, and I didn’t know exactly how I’d find her. But dread makes my gut churn now.
Anna Maria’s an attractive redhead, and I enjoyed every minute of being with her—at least when it involved tying her up and fucking her until we were both breathless. But everything outside the bedroom, especially dealing with the apartment, became a chore. That’s why I’ve been avoiding her. Believe it or not, my instinct is conflict avoidance.
Rather than just show up like I used to, I called ahead this time. She knows we’re going to talk, but it doesn’t surprise me when she steps out of the bedroom in transparent lingerie. It does nothing for me. It’s like looking at any of the dancers at the strip clubs my family owns in New Jersey. The novelty of beingaround naked women wore off before I was even legally old enough to drink.
The only woman I want to see in lingerie—preferably naked—is Maddy.
“Vestirse.” Get dressed.
It’s a command for sure, but it’s not in the tone I used to use. I want her to know I’m serious about talking. I don’t want her to think it’s a prelude to what we used to share.
“Pero, Jav—” But, Jav?—
We continue in Spanish since she’s a Colombian girl from the block back in Jackson Heights. We’re in Staten Island because once upon a time, it kept the other syndicate eyes off me. Fucking Cormac O’Rourke. So much for privacy once he found out.
“No buts. Get dressed, Anna. Please. We need to talk, and it won’t be me giving you another order.”
She studies my expression before she drops her gaze and nods. We’ll see how submissive she feels by the end of this conversation. The red hair might not be natural, but her temper matches it. I’ve known her since high school, so I’ve seen what she’s like when she unleashes. I’m not in the mood for that and won’t tolerate it.
