Me: But you love her.
I turn down the block I live on and nod at someone walking five dogs. Show off. Walking into the lobby of my building, I breathe in the familiar lemon grass smell. The elevator opens as soon as I press the button. I’m rereading all of Alana’s texts over the last few days when I get to my door. As soon as I grab the handle it instantly feels wrong. It’s too loose, making my hackles raise. I see shapes and outlines of people. My finger flips the door lock.
“Mastodon Code 345 Protection mode!” I yell and the lights start flashing red.
I hear an ‘oh shit,’ and someone approaches. Male, smaller than me. He takes a swing, but I grab his arm and twist it around his back. I throw quick punches to his nose and stomach, and then a snap kick to the back of the knee to send him flying into the wall. There’re more assailants, and all those years of training are paying off. Each one of my moves is swift, precise and painful.
“Wait!” a voice cries out in the darkness. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place it, not now with my adrenaline running.
“Phoenix code 345 has been activated.” The speakers rattle. “This is Agent Markus and I am sending the police…” but then he stops speaking and groans, exasperated. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The red lights stop flashing and the room resets to its typical cool, white glow. Now I can get a good look at the four, frowning, middle-aged men standing in the center of the room. I follow their gazes to the men on the floor.
There’re four more guys. One’s in a suit, another in a jersey and track pants. The sports casual one clutches his shoulder as he slides down against the wall. There’s a man on his knees coughing and mumbling in Russian. The last man sits on my couch, jaw open. Him, I recognize instantly: Uri.
My mouth dries, because what are the fucking odds? I’ve had one hook up in over two years and he’s in my home with a bunch of other guys.
“What the hell is going on?” I snap. Markus’s voice crackles over the speaker.
“These are Alana’s, um, associates. And she’s about to bypass the lock any second.”
The door lock moves on its own. Alana is… well pissed isn’t the right word. Seething is close, but not quite. She stands there, cellphone in one hand and the other inside her purse. Her eyes narrow and she makes a bee line to the four men standing in the center of the room.
“Haven’t I done enough for you? Fixed your lives, made your cartels stronger than before, and run interference for your families. I gave my goddamn life for you, and this,” she motions to the groaning men on the floor, “this is how you repay me? You couldn’t mind your own business and instead you break into my boyfriend’s home?”
Mental note: when the world isn’t coming crashing down, follow up with Alana about that official boyfriend status.
A few of them glance sheepishly at one another. But the ones on the floor are beginning to right themselves, replacing the momentary hesitation with defiant strength.
“We came to talk to Grae.” The guy in the suit grabs onto my kitchen island to help himself up. He looks like a harsher version of the men behind him: dark hair, dark eyes, menacing glower. “If we had known he was a fucking green beret ninja, we would’ve handled it differently.” There’s something vaguely familiar about him.
“Get out!” Alana points to the door. “You’ve no right to be here. It’s bad enough that Duncan outed me to the entire Four Families, but now you pull this shit? Stay the hell out of my personal life.”
“Calm down,” the sports guy on the floor calls out. “He didn’t mean to out you to the family. He saw the same damn thing I did in that picture.”
Alana whips around to the guy. “And what’s that?”
He motions to me, making him wince and grab his shoulder again. “Duncan wasn’t even paying attention to this guy. He was too busy looking at your face. He had us do the same damn thing for Waverly. He wanted to talk with the guy who makes his daughter happy.”
“But I’m not…” Alana swallows as confusion and other mixed emotions wash over her face. Then she gives him a once-over and turns back to me. “Did you dislocate Donny’s shoulder?”
“Ohhh, yeah. I think I did.”
“You should fix that.” She’s right, so I walk into the kitchen, grab a bag of frozen peas and head back to the chaos. I kneel in front of Donny, placing one hand on his shoulder.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“No,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Don’t lie to me.” My voice drops an octave, slipping closer to my dom voice.
Donny swallows and whispers, “holy shit.” Sounds honest enough for me.
“I’m going to set your shoulder on three. Ready?” Donny tenses up anticipating the pain. “One,” and I shove his shoulder back into place. He screams and then rubs his arm. I give him the bag of frozen peas.
“Oh my God!” A high-pitched squeal comes from the doorway, and I have to blink for my brain to register that what I’m seeing is Lena jumping on her toes. Shit, that’s right, I invited Lena to win brownie points. Now that’s not going to happen. “You’re the Four Families! Alana has refused to let me meet you.”
“I have my reasons.” Alana pinches the bridge of her nose.
