Alejandro (The Santiago Brothers Book Two) Page 7

  Two warm hands swiftly made their way from her shoulders to her cheeks. Alejandro held her firmly; she had nowhere to look but his eyes. “She didn’t hate you. She didn’t. Look at what she’s asked you to do — to raise her son.” He paused, searching her eyes for comprehension. “She could have let him stay with Mrs. MacGruber, but she didn’t. She trusted you. She reached out to you. She wanted you to raise him.” His lips cracked a slight smile. “Probably because you were so good at raising her.”

  Audrey snorted. If only he knew. Those months of adjustment right after their parents’ deaths were the hardest she’d lived until now. Some days they were at each other’s throats, and others they barely spoke two words to each other. Their power struggle continued until Penny moved out. Audrey couldn’t help the chuckle. “Oh, she used to hate it when I grounded her. Said I wasn’t her mother.”

  “That was love talking. All teenagers know they need boundaries.”

  Boundaries? Since when did a Santiago recognize a boundary? Audrey raised her brows. “Did you know you needed discipline?”

  Alejandro wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, as though they spoke this way often. He raised his eyes to the heavens before settling back on hers. “More than you know.”

  His gaze was somewhat veiled, but his slick grin told her he’d agree he was quite a delinquent. Did he remember her from school? The Santiago trio made such an impression; she hadn’t forgotten their antics even to this day. Audrey giggled, remembering a younger Alejandro. The eyes of a very grown Alejandro warmed as they held hers and her giggles abruptly stopped. She swallowed, suddenly aware of his nearness: of thick, defined biceps that held her tiny body captive, of how if he angled his head just a bit — and if she raised herself to her toes — their lips would be touching. Audrey involuntarily put her weight on her toes. His head dipped, but his eyes weren’t on her face, but her palms. He looked up, arching a brow. Audrey found her hands, rising and falling with his torso. Hadn’t she noticed how her palms were molding into the muscles of his chest? Audrey bit her lip and pulled her hands back, clasping them in front of her. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not,” he said in a husky whisper.

  Audrey couldn’t pull her eyes away from his. His lips curved up slowly, and his cheeks colored. Hands clasped in the small of her back. Her mouth dried when his gaze dropped to her parted lips.

  Angel moaned in his sleep. Alejandro’s arms fell away, freeing Audrey. She rushed to kneel at her nephew’s bedside, silently thanking the boy for her escape. She brushed wisps of dark hair off Angel’s forehead before planting a soft kiss on it. Did he smile in his sleep? Audrey blinked back new tears, hoping her nephew would be happy in her care.

  “Oh, God, help me. Give me strength to be what I need to be for this little boy. Give me the courage to face whatever is before us,” she whispered.

  “You have strong faith,” Ale said quietly from behind.

  “Yes.” Audrey nodded, smiling.

  “You find that helps?”

  Audrey laughed quietly, and then sniffed. She wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks. She stood and faced him. “Yes. Especially when I get out of my own way. Then God takes care of everything.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing her own belief in her words. Audrey recalled seeing Ale and his brothers attend church back home in Virginia. Their mother often prayed for them. Maria Santiago was thrilled when Rafa returned home. Did Ale ever visit his mother? Ever call home? Had he ever revisited his faith?

  Ale quietly cleared his throat and she tore her eyes from him. “You want some coffee?”

  “Um, actually I could really go for some Oreo cookies.”

  “Cookies?” He raised a brow.

  Audrey let her eyes roam over him. “I get it. US Marshal — all muscle — you wouldn’t dream of eating a cookie.” She rolled her eyes, but took a double-take when his tan cheeks flushed. She bit back a grin at his embarrassment.

  “I like a cookie every now and then.”

  Audrey raised her own brows. “Oh, so you have a sweet tooth?” She smiled, half teasing.

  He returned the grin. “Chocolate chip cookies.”

  Audrey cocked a brow. “That’s a good second choice.”

  ****

  Ale’s grin remained. He held out a hand for her to pass by. She led them out of Angel’s room, but he paused at the door, switching off the lights. When he entered the kitchen, Audrey had already settled herself on a stool. Ale grabbed the carton of cookies from the counter. He sat the cookies on the bar in front of her. “You want some milk?” He looked down at her, humor in his voice.

  “If you’re not patronizing me, then yes, I would love some,” she said, returning his smile. She opened the container, snatched up a cookie, and took a healthy bite, wiping a few crumbs off her full lips. Ale dragged his eyes to the refrigerator door. Wasn’t he supposed to not think about her lips? Furthermore, what had possessed him to pull her into his arms again? When she turned on the waterworks, he was an absolute sucker. “Coming right up.”

  Ale watched Audrey silently as she munched on the cookies. He tried to picture her back in high school. His eyes narrowed, taking in her high ponytail and plain T-shirt. She wore no makeup but a lightly tinted lip gloss. Nope, he didn’t remember her, nor would he have; he only attended enough classes to pass and wouldn’t have hung out with her type. Unless he wanted a challenge.

  And every challenge he conquered.

  But he wouldn’t have wasted his time with her.

  “What are you looking at?”

  He blinked, returning to the present. He cleared his throat. “I was just thinking about high school.” He reached for a cookie. “I don’t remember you at all.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She rolled her eyes.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I was hardly there anyway, and I had a different set of friends.”

  “You sure did.”

  He stopped mid-chew. “You know something about it?”

  Audrey took a finger and ran it across her bottom lip, wiping at imaginary crumbs. He steeled himself against the gesture. She had to be doing that on purpose. Was she aware of the effect a tiny action like that had on a man? He forced his gaze to her eyes.

  “Sure. I mean, I can barely recall you myself, but I remember you and your brothers roaming the halls like a pack of wolves looking for fresh nerd meat.”

  Ale roared in laughter at the accurate description. “We did rough up a few guys in school, but usually they were rival groups. We needed the nerds to do our homework.”

  Audrey smirked. “And now you are an enforcer of the law. Who would have thought?”

  Avoiding her eyes, Ale scuffed the heel of his boot on his opposite shoe. “Yeah, who would have thought,” he remarked quietly. It was a transformation that often times left him astounded. With the way he was shaping up in high school, it still amazed him that he didn’t continue on that path. But a fateful act of his mother changed the course of his life — and his attitude towards it. She had kicked him out of the house, sending him to Texas to live with extended family. His father had abandoned him, and his mother had rejected him. He’d prove them both wrong. He’d prove he’d amount to more than they thought possible. Strangely enough, he wasn’t the only one. He looked up to see Audrey watching him with interest. “You said something earlier about my brother Rafael?”

  She blushed red and dipped her head, but he saw her smile. Her reaction was typical of most women when Rafa’s name was mentioned. Of the three Santiago brothers, Rafa was the lothario and he played the role well. Neither Ale nor Ricardo harbored any jealousy against their brother, each having their share of female attention to keep them more than satisfied. So why did his gut turn just now?

  Audrey raised her head. She wore a romantic grin. “He’s going to marry my best friend, Genie.”

  Alejandro’s stomach calmed. She didn’t blush out of an infatuation with Rafa. “
Genie?”

  “Eugenia Green? She attended the same high school we did. Does her name sound familiar?”

  Alejandro’s brows bushed. He shook his head no.

  “You really don’t remember much of high school, do you?” She laughed.

  Alejandro grinned slowly. “Only the good times.” Audrey’s lips took a chagrin twist. He laughed. “Why that face? What do you think I mean?”

  “I think it’s best that I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Hmm.” Probably right. He reached for another cookie and popped the whole thing into his mouth. He took his time chewing, using the moment of silence to study Audrey. She held his gaze, her cheeks still tinged with a lovely flush. He remembered how she attacked him in Lana’s home. Although she possessed a vulnerability he found sweetly alluring, underneath her unassuming manner laid a fearlessness he respected. The strength and courage it took her to pick up the pieces of not only her but Lana’s life after their parents’ deaths at such a young age staggered him. And now she was forced to do it all over again.

  Ale’s thoughts drifted to the little boy in the room down the hall. Ale spent the last half of his youth without his father. The actions of the elder Santiago had left him resolved never to have children of his own. It would be the only way to avoid hurting an impressionable young child. Despite Trujillo wanting to be involved in his son’s life, Angel had no idea his father was a murderer. Even though the actions of Ale’s father still angered him, Ale believed it was best for Angel not to have a relationship with Miguel. Ale still struggled emotionally with his dad’s rejection, but with Audrey, Angel had a chance of adjusting to life well.

  Her scrutiny manipulated his thoughts to areas he worked hard to ignore. He snatched up yet another cookie, knowing he’d pay for it later in a workout. “I have to get back to the garage, so goodnight.” He felt daggers enter his back as he walked toward the metal door. He had good reasons to leave her standing there staring after him. One, the meeting with Carlos. Two, if he’d stayed any longer, he’d have taken her into his arms. Carlos better have something on Alba. Or he’d hang himself for refusing to remain with the pretty cookie monster.

  Twenty minutes later, he was seated in the upper office at the garage, next to Carlos and across from Trujillo.

  Trujillo spoke first. “Carlos, what’s the word?”

  “I saw Alba in Monterrey. He says he’ll be in San Antonio by the weekend.”

  Ale schooled his features to be impassive, but inside he could barely contain his satisfaction. He kept his palms flat against his knees, hoping the jeans wouldn’t show a stain from the sweat leaking from his hands. News of Alba’s return had the same effect on him as his first fugitive catch. He’d wanted to tell everyone in the office — and out of the office — that he was an official hunter. Head held high for a week, Ale didn’t recall the definition of humility until his next assignment when he had to ask a few of the senior marshals for help in tracking a highly skilled fugitive.

  To catch Martin Alba meant Ale could choose his next office assignment and subsequently his mission. Alba was known to facilitate the movement of drugs for over a dozen known cells along the southern border states. Eliminating his node in the link diagram would severely disable more than a quarter of the drug trafficking operations, as well as prevent the shipment of numerous firearms and the individuals who accompanied those weapons into the United States.

  He could not fail.

  “So, he thinks he can just come and inspect my house whenever he likes?” Trujillo’s voice was deadly calm.

  Interesting. Ale hadn’t suspected any animosity between Trujillo and Alba, but perhaps it could be used as leverage in the future.

  “He’s heard about the money you lost in Arizona.”

  Ale remained silent. Arizona. A huge success for the joint drug seizure operation the marshals had with the DEA as a result of his fugitive recovery mission. Trujillo, usually a tactical mover, was getting greedy. A dozen or more cars delivered to one location. Kilos worth of cocaine. Did he think that would just fly under law enforcement radar? The marshals and the DEA argued over whether or not Ale should persuade Trujillo to decrease the shipment amount. The marshals worried that if the cocaine continued to be seized, Trujillo would suspect an inside job. The DEA just wanted the drugs. In the end, Ale convinced his supervisor that if the drugs were confiscated, such an action might draw Alba out of hiding — and Alba controlled Trujillo. Or so Ale believed at the time.

  He was right.

  But who was Carlos? An intermediary?

  “There’s a narc in my group.”

  Ale’s muscles turned to stone. He held his breath. Only he, Trujillo, and Carlos were in the building. He could shoot his way out if necessary.

  Carlos shifted in his chair. “A narc? You sure?”

  Trujillo’s expression was serene as he sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests, interlacing his fingers in front of him. He nodded. “Lana was seeing him. It’s one of the reasons I killed her.”

  Ale nearly puked the cookies in his stomach. Lana broke. He was made. How had Trujillo guessed? What was the conversation — or interrogation — he’d had with her?

  “You… you killed Lana?”

  Ale’s head snapped in Carlos’s direction. There was a mix of something in his voice. Shock and… sadness? The man blinked rapidly, his hands twitching and again he shifted in his seat.

  “No great loss.”

  “Why did you have to kill her?” Carlos leaned forward in his seat, hands gripping the armrests. “Maybe she didn’t know!”

  Jaw dropping at Carlos’s forceful claim of Lana’s innocence, Ale observed Trujillo’s reaction. Eyelids drooped lazily and mouth curved in a smug grin, the man was unperturbed by Carlos’s outburst.

  Did Carlos and Lana…? Lana never mentioned a relationship with any other man in the group outside of Trujillo. Was Trujillo aware of their connection? If so, Ale wasn’t the only one who had to worry about getting out of here alive tonight.

  “My men saw her meeting with someone.”

  “Who?” Both Ale and Carlos pressed in unison. They exchanged tentative glances before eyeing Trujillo, whose unchanged gaze shifted between the two of them.

  “A lover perhaps. They tailed him to her house a few days ago.”

  Ale’s blood iced in his veins. He had been followed to Lana’s, and now he had to assume Audrey was seen. The possibility of her dying at Trujillo’s hands crippled him. Forcing air into his lungs, he calmly asked, “Who’s the lover?”

  Trujillo stared at him for a long moment, so long Ale wasn’t sure the last time the man blinked. “My men described him as dark, large…”

  Me and me.

  “Long hair…”

  Me. His internal alarm blared.

  “But they didn’t see his face.”

  Ale refused to relax. Trujillo either didn’t know the identity of Lana’s “lover,” or he was lying. If Lana and I were seen together… Trujillo’s men would have informed their boss. Trujillo didn’t break gaze with Ale, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

  Carlos’s voice broke the silence, although he seemed to be talking to himself. “Lana and a narc?” Frowning, Carlos shook his head. “That’s not her.”

  “You’ve been gone for a few years, Carlos,” Trujillo answered. “Lana wasn’t the same woman you and I knew back then.”

  “No?”

  “She’d stopped coming around, got a job doing something, and…” he paused, a ghost of a grin on his face, “had a son.”

  Carlos’s eyes brightened. “Un hijo? Estás seguro?”

  “Sí. I’m sure. My son.”

  Ale could have sworn Carlos paled — and was trembling. The man licked dry lips, before clearing his throat. The light in his eyes diminished. “Well, if there is a narc, Alba won’t be pleased.”

  It was all business now.

  “And what can he do to me?”

  “To you, Trujillo?” Carlos rega
ined color, his gaze igniting. “He could kill you,” he snarled. “You let a narc in—”

  “¡Cajéte!”

  “You are losing money—”

  “¡Idiota!”

  “And Alba isn’t happy.”

  Silence ensued. No man moved a muscle. Alba was coming to clean house. Did that mean Trujillo would be eliminated — literally? That wouldn’t give the marshals or the DEA much time. The target was Alba, but they’d all been planning to arrest Trujillo and his gang for drug trafficking. If Alba snuffed out Trujillo before the task force could make an arrest, they’d lose an important narcotic source — according to the district attorney. The man deserved to be behind bars instead of being dispensed with at the hands of Alba.

  Trujillo stood. Not usually made nervous — until recently — by Trujillo, the menacing look on his face gave Ale reason to force down the quaking within. “Then let him come.”

  ****

  Trujillo’s smug face. That’s what Ale saw as he slammed right and left hooks into the punching bag. He couldn’t sleep. Again.

  After returning to the safe house, his mind wouldn’t allow him to rest. He’d made some calls to his contacts in the DEA and then to his boss. The task force needed to be ready for a takedown in a few days’ time. The next seventy-two hours would be crucial. Where would they make the arrest? How would Ale steer the targets to that area? Under what pretense? If Alba made a move against Trujillo, how should Ale respond? All these questions and other details of the raid, not to mention contingency plans, would have to be hammered out before Alba set one foot in San Antonio. The only way this would work was if they stayed not one, but several steps ahead of both Alba and Trujillo. No surprises.