Chapter 26 Alessa #2
When he called me bright eyes and then told me why I almost started blubbering like a baby.
I knew sex with Holden would be memorable, but it did not prepare me for the waterfall it would cause.
The length and girth of his cock rubbed everything in me at the same time.
No one has made me come like that before.
He slides two folders toward me. “One is Moretto’s supplier, and the other is the foster home.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Already? Gerald just told me who they are.”
“I can’t take all the credit. While we were busy, Ryder and Dex went to shake down some of Moretto’s people. They gave them a name, and I started running it this morning. I had the stuff for the foster home last night. I just dug up what foster home the boys were at.”
I vaguely remember him mentioning a file, but I only went in there to be with him, not to see if he finished his work or seduce him.
“That is why you are the best,” I point at him, “Among other things.”
He blushes a deep red, and it’s always endearing to know someone in this house can still blush. He smiles again, and I can’t get over how much it changes his face. “How’s your broken pussy?”
My mouth pops open shocked. I can’t believe that just came out of my sweet, timid Holden’s mouth, then I laugh. “It’s purring just fine.”
He laughs, and I soak in the sound. “Good.”
I’m not going to tell him I’m sore this morning, in a good way. He was worried enough last night about hurting me. I’m not going to add to that.
I open my mouth, getting ready to ask him about what he told me, when Micah walks into the office. “Will you tell your dipshit boyfriend that he can’t wear lime green to the fucking gala?”
I know he’s talking about Gage, but I need to rile him up. “Which one?” I deadpan.
Micah’s lip curls back in disgust, and Holden chuckles. Micah whirls on him. “Not you too?”
Holden shrugs. “Guilty.”
“What is going on in this fucking house?” Micah mutters, leaving the office.
Gage loves getting a rise out of Micah as much as I do, and I know Gage’s pretty boy ass wouldn’t be caught dead in lime green.
I open the folder Holden gave me about the foster parents and curse under my breath. “Six fucking kids in that house. Four of them under six.”
Holden nods. “Yeah. That part sucks. No way you can hide kids that small.”
I shake my head. “No,” I say, sliding that folder to the side that would have to come later, mostly because I need to call in a favor I don’t want to do.
I open the next one, and my blood starts boiling. “This name belongs to the fucking Russians.”
Russians as in Viktor Orlov, Alexey, and Dmitri’s dad. They are nothing like their shit dad and friends of mine, not that Viktor knows that. He hates women in any position; his mindset is a woman should be there to serve her husband.
Fuck that. I don’t have anything against a woman with that mindset, but that isn’t me.
“I tracked it back as far as possible without hacking Viktor’s server. I’m ninety-nine percent sure the orders are coming from him.”
That’s fucking great.
I text Micah to come back to the office. When he enters, Holden excuses himself, and I can’t get over how proud he looks walking through the door.
“Did you have something to tell me, shithead, or are you just going to drool all day?” Micah asks dryly, flopping down in Holden’s chair.
“I don’t know, probably drool. Have you seen the man candy in this house?”
“Alright, I’m done.” Micah goes to get up.
“I’m kidding,” I laugh before sobering to slide the file to Micah. I stab my finger at the sheet. “That name look familiar?”
“Is that one of Orlov’s?” Micah growls. No love is lost between the Russians and Italians, but Micah still holds a grudge over how Viktor talked to me at the last gala.
“Sure is,” I reply, then run my fingers through my hair. “This isn’t like taking out some small time like Jerry. This is Viktor Orlov, and he just declared war.”
Italians might be the most powerful, but the Russians run a close third, right behind Evander and Mateo for Mexico.
“We can’t let this go,” Micah points out, and it pisses me off.
“No shit,” I bark, and he raises an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that because I didn’t think you would.”
I sigh. “I know. Fuck. I’m used to everyone thinking I can’t do this because I have boobs.”
Micah chuckles. “I assure you no one in this house, including me, doubts you.” He shudders. “Just don’t mention your boobs again.”
“Oh my God. And you call me a child,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
He tilts his head to the side, the same weird thing I do, and my dad did. “You seem better,” he states, referring to me being a hot mess when I showed up at his house.
“I am.”
He leans forward in his chair. “Les, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know you can come to me, right?”
I smile softly. “I know. I just got overwhelmed, but everything is falling into place,” I say and hope I didn’t just jinx myself. “You can go now,” I tell him, knowing it will crawl under his skin at being dismissed. I try to hide my smile when his eyes narrow.
“I’m going to let that one go.” He gets up and storms from the room, my laughter following him.
I shoot off a text to Evander, letting him know I might need some help with the Russians, and his response is immediate.
Evander
Anything you need.
I tell him that I will fill him in later and then make the phone call I’ve been dreading to make, but I need help, and this is the only person I know who can get it done.
“Hello?”
“Can we meet?” I ask.
“Where?”
“Loading docks on 64th.”
“Done.”
I pull my Ferrari into the loading dock parking lot twenty minutes later and pull beside a white Dodge Challenger.
Zane is casually leaning against the side of it, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over his chest, his usual mirrored sunglasses covering his eyes.
I climb out of the car, and he peeks into the car before I shut the door.
“You came alone?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow over my own oversized sunglasses. “Yes. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” I peek into his car and see a guy on the passenger side. “You didn’t?”
“We were working when you called.” He slides his sunglasses down his nose, letting his eyes run slowly down my body. “You look good,” he says, pushing them back over his eyes.
I roll my eyes. I’m in jeans, a t-shirt, and my boots.
I’m not dressed to impress. I choose to ignore that comment.
“Since you were working, I’ll get to it.
” I hand him the folder on the foster home.
“Proof that they’re dealing out of that house with four kids all under the age of six.
” I can’t tell him about Lucas and Landon because he will make me turn them over since they are technically still underage.
Zane opens the folder, flipping through it.
I hear the passenger door open, and his partner steps out.
He is tall, a trim body, but you can see his muscles moving under his shirt, light brown hair, and sunglasses like Zane’s.
He looks more like a model that just stepped out of GQ than a detective.
He leans against the car beside Zane, taking a slow stroll with his gaze looking me over and I instantly dislike him.
That’s a power move to put someone ill at ease.
I hate to tell him, but he has the wrong bitch.
“You must be the infamous Alessa Poletti,” he drawls.
“And you are?” I ask and tilt my head to the side, letting him know his little tactic didn’t work.
“Jay Hoover.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I look down at it, then look back to Zane, dismissing him. Asshole move, but something about this guy gives me the wrong vibes.
Zane is trying to cover a smile by rubbing his top lip. “We good?” I ask. I need to get out of here. I don’t like that his partner got out of the car.
“How am I supposed to explain where the tip came from?”
I shrug and jerk the folder from his hand. “I’ll find someone else.” I pull my door open, and Zane reaches out, grabbing my arm. I look at him and then look pointedly at his hand until he drops it.
“Wait a minute. I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”
His partner snorts. “You going to do dirty work for the Poletti princess?”
I push my sunglasses up on my head. “If you call getting kids out of a fucking foster home that sells drugs, and pushes the older ones into gangs to make them money dirty work, then yeah, that’s what I asked him to do.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Anything for the Poletti’s is dirty.”
“Get back in the car, Jay,” Zane barks, standing up from his relaxed position.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Now,” Zane growls, and I have to hide a grin.
Jay stomps off, slamming the door when he gets back in the car. I look back to Zane. “Temper tantrum much?”
“He’s not your biggest fan. I’ll see what I can do.
” He holds his hand out for the folder. I hand it back to him, and he brushes my fingers when he takes it, even though he had plenty of room to grab the end.
He crosses his arms back over his chest, the folder tucked under his arm. “What happened the other day?”
Time to leave. “Nothing.” I pull my sunglasses back down. “Bad day.”
“The Les I know doesn’t let bad days get to her.”
“The Les you knew,” I emphasize because he doesn’t know me anymore, “is gone. You don’t know me, Zane.”
“I know you pretty good.” He lets his eyes slide over me again. “Damn good.”
“Was that before or after you betrayed me? Don’t pretend we had anything more than what it was.”
“If you want to pretend all we had was sex,” he shrugs, “that’s on you. I know better.”
“Keep lying to yourself. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I jerk my door back open and slide into the car, getting the hell out of there.
The truth is, what we had was more than sex, even though we broke it off several times within that year.
Mostly because I wasn’t ready, too young to give him what he wanted, what he needed.
When I found out that he was becoming a cop, I was crushed.
That same day, I had decided that I was going to give in and tell my dad about us like he had been wanting me to do, fully committing myself to Zane.
Then I realized he was a lying piece of shit.