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Alejandro scoffed. Love. That was a useless emotion. It had only ever brought him trouble.
“I just want to keep Juliet safe.”
“You don’t think she’s safe there?” he asked.
If Reuben truly thought she was in danger, then he should take measures to protect her. No matter her objections.
“No,” Reuben said reluctantly. “The people who live in Wishingbone are nuts. I’m talking certifiably nuts. But it’s small town, Montana. It’s sleepsville. I can’t honestly see anything bad ever happening there.”
“Can’t understand why anyone would live somewhere so boring,” Alejandro said.
“I guess it’s almost better that Juliet lives there. My job means I’m dealing with some unsavory clients. Case in point.” He grinned over at Alejandro.
“Asshole.” He couldn’t argue that though.
He was the biggest shark in the sea.
“Yeah, maybe she’s better off in Wishingbone.”
“If you worked only for me, then she would be safe. You could both move into my place.”
It was something he kept pushing Reuben for. The other man was the closest thing he had to a best friend. He was one of the few people Alejandro trusted.
“You know I like my job. I like the variety. Besides, I can’t live at your place. It’s too confining.”
“It’s safe,” Alejandro countered. As safe as a freaking fortress. Both his mansion out in Southampton and his house in Manhattan.
Reuben just shook his head as they drew up to the back entrance of Michelle’s. The car came to a stop, but he stayed where he was for a moment. He didn’t want to have this conversation outside.
“So why’d you need me here tonight?” Reuben asked.
“Someone is messing with my business. You know there is an agreement to stay out of each other’s territory. I have drugs and guns. Sammy has illegal gambling rings and the fight clubs. Jacques has skin.”
“Fucker,” Reuben muttered.
Alejandro agreed. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to get into. The skin trade was messy and reprehensible. But if he got rid of Jacques, everything would go underground. And he’d be putting out fires all over the place. At least this way, he could keep an eye on the slimy bastard.
“If I don’t keep him around, then some fucking human trafficking ring will start up in my city.”
“You don’t think they already have?”
“What do you know?”
Reuben blew out a breath. “Heard rumors. Nothing more.”
Alejandro grunted. “There are always rumors. Anything more, let me know. Who is left? Vince runs the money. Need some laundered? Want to hide your money from your ex? You go see Vince. Gavin is the clean-up guy for the city. He can make a murder disappear, for the right amount of money, of course.”
“He’s still playing biker?”
“Yeah, he still runs the biker gang. Helps people to underestimate him. He’s also moved into chop shops, if you ever need to get rid of a vehicle.”
“Always good to know.”
“Then there’s Hudson.”
“The hacker.” Reuben nodded. “But you use Nighthawk for your stuff, right?”
Alejandro grunted. “Yes. And finally, Tariq bleeds the rich of their money. Extortion, blackmail, that guy is building a big empire. He has a league of spies, both in the gutters and among the rich and famous.”
“Is he a threat to you?” Reuben asked.
“No one is a threat to me,” he replied coolly. The door opened and he stepped out, glancing around.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his men . . . but yeah, okay, he never fully trusted them. So he was always armed. Always on alert.
The Scot walked to the back door and knocked on it three times. It opened with Martin standing there.
The manager of Michelle’s was a nervous guy, but he’d worked here for years, and Alejandro had never had a problem with him. The Scot walked in first, then gave him a nod. He moved inside, followed by Reuben and his other bodyguard, Cairn. The Scot was a big guy with red-blond hair. His name came from his Scottish heritage. Cairn was even bigger than The Scot, with a permanent scowl on his face and tattoos covering most of his body. The guy was menacing.
Just what Alejandro was going for. No one would mess with these guys.
“Um, sir, we have a small issue.” Martin wrung his hands together.
Alejandro turned to look at the slim-built older man. “What would that be?”
“Well, uh, hmm, you see . . . Starla is ill.”
“Thank fuck,” Reuben muttered as he drew out his phone. He was probably checking on his sister again. No one was allowed their phones once they entered the poker room.
That poor woman. It was a wonder she hadn’t taken out a hit on Reuben yet just to catch a break.
Alejandro shot Reuben a look. “You have a problem with Starla?”
“Nah, I like being mentally undressed and having my dick groped when she ‘accidentally’ spills something on me. That bitch is a fucking piranha. Only she wants to suck the sperm from your cock and implant it so she can get your ring on her finger. When you never pay her attention, she turns her attention to me, Vince, or Tariq.”
