Alejandro: Padre Knights MC (7 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ali looked out her window when she heard the tires on her gravel. She almost didn’t recognize the pearl-colored Cadillac as it crawled along the driveway until she recognized its driver, hidden behind giant dark glasses.
Mama
. And beside her sat Ali’s least favorite person, Cecile Dawson.

The two women got out of the car, mincing across the gravel path as if they were navigating the unpaved streets of a third-world country. Ali sighed and smoothed her hair before opening the back door to greet them. She was glad that she’d swept the back stairs that morning or there would have been no end of drama over the uncleanliness of her entryway.

“Cecile. Mama.” She nodded at each, mustering a bright smile. “What a surprise.”

“Ali, honey, you have got to do something about that godforsaken driveway. It’s a menace. No wonder no one wants to buy this place.” Claire glanced around her mother-in-law’s former home and frowned. “Where are the signs? And the lockbox?” She turned back to Ali, her lips pursed. “Didn’t you list with Peggy Swearengen like I told you to?”

“Well, I did, but the ranch is no longer for sale, Mama.”

The two women exchanged heavily mascaraed glances.

“Can I get you both some tea?”

Cecile grimaced in a way that Ali took as a yes, and Claire nodded curtly, clearly miffed about Peggy Swearengen’s lost listing opportunity.

Ali handed the two women their glasses and was pouring a drink for herself when her mother started. “Cecile and I decided to pay you a visit because we’re both quite concerned.”

Ali smiled.
Says the mother who barely raised me.
“Because I called off the wedding?” she asked innocently.

“Yes, that and—”

“Bobby is devastated,” Cecile interrupted. “Do you have any idea what this has done to him? Or how it will look to break off the engagement right before the campaign?”

“You’re just not acting like yourself, Ali,” Claire chastised. “I’m worried about you. I think perhaps your job is too stressful.” She and Cecile exchanged another glance.

“Mama, I assure you, I’m feeling just fine. My job is not at all stressful. And Bobby will be fine, too. People love him.”

“Let’s hope their devotion is a little stronger than yours,” Cecile snapped. “I’m so disappointed in you, Alaine. Never in a million years would I have expected this from you. The stress you’re putting on both families is so unfair. Think of your poor mother.”  She patted Claire’s hand sympathetically.

Ali knew her mother was about as delicate as a barbed wire fence, and Cecile was made of even sturdier stuff. In typical Southern style they tiptoed daintily around the truth: they were pissed off that she’d shamed them in front of their peers by calling off the wedding, which they’d both hoped would be a major social event of the year. When a wedding that size was called off, there was almost always a scandal at the bottom of it. Ali had no doubt it was their reputation, not Bobby’s feelings or her own mental stability, that had driven the two out to her ranch for this intervention.

“Well,” she said. “I sure do appreciate your concern. Mama, I will happily pay Daddy back for the deposits.”

Two crimson spots bloomed high on Claire’s cheeks. “Alaine Helene! Don’t be vulgar!”

She’d done it now, bringing money into it. Both women rose in tandem to their feet, and two sets of pursed lips brushed past her cheek in the chilliest goodbye she’d ever experienced.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Claire hissed, and Ali just smiled back at her. It was liberating to not cower at her mother’s feet for once. She would never make Claire happy by living her own life. There was no point in even trying. Cecile was already halfway to the car. Clearly just being at the ranch was so offensive to her that she couldn’t wait to leave it.

***

Ali’s phone chirped from the kitchen counter half an hour later and she checked to see if it was Alejandro. Cristina’s number appeared on the screen, and after the last few judgmental texts she’d received from Bobby and the surprise visit from the Mothers from Hell, she figured it was more of the same. There had been enough lectures for the day, she decided, and sent it to voicemail, silencing her phone as she did. She changed for her riding lesson and didn’t hear it ring several more times. Eventually she shoved it deep in her handbag and drove into town to meet her student.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alejandro woke up in the hospital with Pitbull by his side looking about as bad as he felt. The other man grimaced at him through a swollen lip, his smile twisted so it looked grotesque beneath the mangled flesh. His knuckles were scraped and he moved like a man of a hundred, not thirty-two.

“Lucky fucker,” Pitbull croaked hoarsely. “I thought we lost you.” He filled in the blanks for Alejandro: the struggle in the truck that had sent Alejandro tumbling out the back, the one casualty from among the illegals, the four Czechs who were on their way for disposal in an old oil field. “It was the Diablos Verdes,” Pitbull said. “Greedy motherfuckers. They couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“How’d they find out?”

“Haji.” Alejandro’s face must’ve registered the shock he felt, but Pitbull held up his hand. “Not what you think. The DVs worked with him in the past but he cut them off because he wasn’t getting paid. They decided they wanted in on the action again and had the Czechs follow him to the industrial park. The rest was a bonus. Well,” he grimaced. “Almost a bonus.”

“We got the product?”

“Yep.”

“And the rest are on their way to Dallas?”

“Safe and sound.”

“Good.” Alejandro closed his eyes. “Fuck me, I’m getting old. Everything hurts.”

“Yeah, bullets and a concussion will do that. They were worried about brain swelling. As if your fucking brain needs to get any bigger,” he teased.

“Fuck you, Pitbull,” Alejandro retorted good-naturedly. “How’s everyone else?”

“Everybody’s good except for Motormouth and Haji. Haji really ain’t doing too good. They fucked up his kidneys pretty bad.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. He’ll be in here a while, I think. They’re sending you home, though.”

“Thank fuck. When?”

“Couple hours.”

Alejandro groaned. “You gonna feed me, sweetheart?”

“I sent for some Whataburger, you pussy. What’s the matter, can’t handle the mystery meat and green Jell-O?”

“Fuck you,” he replied with a grin. “You try eating that shit.”

“Nah.” Pitbull had a gleam in his eye. “There’s this little nurse out there I’m having tonight. Lourdes. She gets off at seven and she’s going to heal me with her love,” he sighed. 

Alejandro was relieved that Pitbull was okay. They’d been friends a long time, since before Alejandro went off to the magnet school where he met Ali and Pitbull went to Arroyo Tech. He was the closest thing to a brother Alejandro had.

“Wait, who’s bringing the Whataburger?”

Pitbull grinned. “I called Cristina. She’s going to take care of you.”

“Cristina’s coming here?”

Two seconds later there was a tentative knock and Ali stepped through the open door clutching an orange-and-white striped bag. Relief surged through him, surprising him. She looked good, but that wasn’t it. The concern in her eyes—that was what did him in. He’d seen that look before, when he’d lost control on his first bike and wiped out. It had been the worst road rash of his life, and Ali had tended his wounds. He’d never loved her more until the day she asked him to make love to her and he lost control of his heart, too.

“I’m out,” Pitbull said, rising from the chair with a grunt and nodding at Ali as he passed her. “I’ma go see if Lourdes can take my temperature.”

***

He looked pale in the harsh florescent hospital lighting, but his face lit up when she walked in. She’d been prepared for his injuries and knew she should be thankful it wasn’t far worse, but the entire side of his face was torn up and he lay stiffly in the hospital bed, obviously trying to mask the pain. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what could have happened to him.

“I brought you some food,” she said, awkwardly thrusting the bag toward him even though she was still standing in the doorway.

“Thank God, I thought I was gonna have to eat the Jell-O.” He grinned and she walked toward the chair at the edge of his bed where Pitbull had been sitting. “Cristina called you?”

She swallowed and nodded. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was teaching and I hadn’t listened to my messages.”
Oh, the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s grateful I’m here. Like I’m the only one he wants to see right now.

“It’s just some scrapes and a concussion.” He shrugged. “Honestly, Ali, I’ve had worse football injuries.”

“Cristina said it was a severe concussion. And you were shot.”

“Shot
at
,” he corrected. “Bullet grazed my arm. It’s bandaged. I’ll be fine. I’m out of here as soon as they give me the go-ahead.” She was silent and he pressed on. “Really, I’m okay. You should see the other guy.”

“Did you—Is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, but he knew where she was going with it.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not me. Not this time.”

“But… Have you? Before?”

He avoided her eyes and said nothing for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “If I absolutely have to.”

She didn’t ask the questions she so desperately wanted to ask:
How many? And why?

“I’m an outlaw, Ali, not a serial killer,” he reminded her. “There’s no joy in it, but sometimes it’s gotta be done.”

“I know, it’s just—”

“And I’m not asking you to be okay with it. Your conscience is your own.”

She nodded and reached for him. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a hard thing to wrap my mind around.”

“I get that.” He cradled her hand in his own.

“Can I see?” she gestured to the bandages peeking from underneath his hospital gown.

“Well, it’s all—” He waved his free hand vaguely around his torso. “It’s no big deal, really.”

Ali pressed her lips to his battered knuckles and he sighed. She longed to crawl into the hospital bed with him, kiss away every scrape and bruise, keep him up so he didn’t slip into a coma. Instead she turned his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek until he cupped it on his own.

“Ali,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to leave you again,” she whispered, the words spilling from her heart right out her mouth. “Can I take you home with me when they let you go?”

“I’d like that.” He swallowed and closed his eyes.

It killed her to see him so vulnerable, this strong, capable man flat on his back in a hospital bed. It touched something inside her, a memory that hadn’t been made yet, of caring for him at an elemental level. Of anticipating his needs. Her hand trembled as she stroked the unharmed side of his face, and he nuzzled into her palm.

“I’m sorry I was so stupid,” she choked, her eyes filling with tears.

He didn’t open his eyes, just rubbed his lips across her hand. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Baby.” He sighed and looked at her then, his eyes grave and pained despite the smile on his face. “That makes two of us.”