Chapter 5 – Alana
Chapter
Five
ALANA
We’re already on our way to the shelter when I ask Hugo to make a pit stop at the Bakers’ house.
It seems only fair that I update them on the recent developments, no matter what Lucia said about them.
I stare out of the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of heat and sunlight, and feel that restless, protective ache in my chest that’s been growing ever since last night.
Lucia is in the back seat, knees bouncing, fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve.
She spent a few weeks at the shelter when she first arrived in LA—back when she was Lucy Callaghan, eighteen-years-old on paper and trying so hard to appear it.
That’s where we met. I can still remember the first time I saw her, chin lifted, eyes too old for her face, daring the world to call her bluff.
Then I found out the truth.
She was actually only sixteen. Still pregnant and terrified, just a child in the eyes of the law. Obviously she couldn’t stay at the shelter after that. Rules. Liability. All those cold, reasonable words that never account for a person just trying to survive.
She’s excited to go back for the day today, to see the women she shared that time with.
It’ll keep her from sitting in the house all day, especially as she’ll be home on her own this evening when Alejandro and I go out.
The thought of her alone in that big house, feeling like an obligation instead of a wanted guest, makes something sharp twist in my ribs.
I wish we didn’t have to leave her, but this dinner has been planned for a while. Still, I can have a word with Magda.
Lucia called the Bakers last night and told them she was staying with us. Just one night. Temporary, she said.
Except it doesn’t feel temporary anymore.
And if we’re about to make this more permanent, they deserve an explanation.
Or maybe I just need to see them with my own eyes, and figure out if what Lucia claimed was true, or if she was just so unhappy they seemed worse than they actually are. They did come recommended after all
“Here we are,” Hugo says, pulling up outside a neat little suburban house. Even the house looks prim and proper, like it smells of lemon cleaner and judgment.
I step out of the car and straighten my shoulders.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asks through the open window.
“No. I’ll be fine. I’m sure I can handle the Bakers.” I glance back at Lucia. She’s staring at the house like it might bite her. “You just keep an eye on Lucia.”
Her fingers are twisting together so tight her knuckles are white. What is she so afraid of?
I walk up the path, heels clicking against the warm paving slabs, and knock on the white painted door. I feel calm. My pulse is steady, but there’s a strange bristling under my skin, like I’m prepared for anything.
The door opens, and a woman with short blonde hair and bright orange lipstick looks me up and down. Her gaze lingers on my heels with open disdain before she pastes on a honey smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Are you Melody Baker?”
She tilts her head to the side, like a cobra I once saw at a zoo my grandparents took me to. “I sure am. Who wants to know?”
“My name is Alana. I’ve come to speak to you about Lucy.”
The shift in her demeanor is instant. The sweetness curdles and her entire face turns sour.
“If that girl has stolen from you, or been causing trouble, it ain’t no fault of mine. She can’t be controlled. She stayed out all night last night. Little tramp,” she snaps.
The word hits me like a slap to the face.
Tramp.
For a second, I actually rock back on my heels. I’d heard the Bakers were a good family. A little too God-fearing, maybe, but stable. Safe. Caring. Responsible. That’s what Alejandro’s lawyer assured me.
I look at her face again, really look at it, but all I see is contempt. For a young girl she should be looking after.
“What?” I manage.
“I said she’s a tramp,” she repeats, lips curling. “She hasn’t been sniffing around your husband or something, has she? I saw the way she looks at my Gary. He saw it too. Girls like that don’t know when to keep their legs closed.”
My heart slams against my ribs so hard I can feel it in my throat. She is sixteen years old. Nobody should be talking about her like that, and Gary sure as hell shouldn’t be noticing anything about her other than the fact that she’s a child.
Something inside me snaps. I step forward, close enough to see the make-up caked in the lines around her mouth. Close enough that she has to lean back.
“If you ever speak about Lucy—or any other young girl—like that again,” I say calmly, “I will slap you so hard you’ll be brushing your teeth through your ass for the rest of your life.
” The words leave my mouth before I can think of the consequences.
I don’t regret them though. Not for a single second.
The way I feel right now, I am definitely capable of it.
She blinks. Actually blinks. Like she’s never been spoken to like that in her life.
“And as for your husband—Gary, is it?” I snarl. “If I find out he has had even one impure thought about that little girl, I will hunt him down and castrate him myself.”
I mean it too. God help him, I mean it. And I’ll use a blunt knife, too.
“How dare you come to my house and speak to me like that?” she shrieks, puffing out her chest. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”
There it is. The question I’ve been waiting for, even if I didn’t quite know it until now.
I point a finger in her face. “I am Alana fucking Montoya, and I am also Lucy’s new guardian.
” The words feel natural coming from my mouth.
“You can call the cops, your church, or your momma. It won’t do you any good.
My husband owns this goddamn city. Now crawl back into your hole and figure out why you’re such a nasty bitch—and why your husband thinks a sixteen-year-old child has been looking at him. ”
Her mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water.
Bitch!
I turn on my heel and walk down the path, every click of my heels loud and deliberate. My hands are shaking now, the adrenaline catching up to me, but I keep my spine straight and my shoulders back. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me doubt myself.
When I reach the car, both windows are down. Hugo is grinning, and Lucia is staring at me like I just dropkicked a rhino.
I climb into the backseat and she throws her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder while she laughs. The sound is so carefree that Hugo and I laugh too.
“Wow, Alana,” she says, pulling back. “You just handed Melody Baker her ass.”
“You sure did, boss,” Hugo adds, starting the engine.
Heat floods my cheeks. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that before, and I liked it. It could become addictive.
“I did, didn’t I?” I murmur, suddenly aware of how fast my heart is still racing. “I didn’t go too far, did I? I just…God. What a horrible woman.”
“You definitely didn’t go too far,” Hugo assures me.
“No way,” Lucia agrees, her eyes shining in a way that makes my throat tight. “You were like a momma bear protecting her cubs.”
I lean back against the seat, exhaling slowly.
A momma bear, huh? That’s what it felt like.
Something feral and maternal and ruthless woke up inside me the second Melody opened her mouth.
I make a mental note to call Alejandro’s lawyer.
The Bakers will not be fostering another child if I have anything to say about it.
And as for Gary…The thought of a grown man saying he’s being tempted by a pregnant sixteen-year-old makes my skin crawl.
Let him pray I never find proof he’s ever hurt a child or a woman.
Because I wasn’t bluffing.
After that encounter, we spent the entire day at the shelter, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lucia look lighter or more carefree. The women hugged her like she was a little sister who’d come home, and the kids followed her around like ducklings. She was so good with them, effortless and patient.
At one point I stood in the doorway of the rec room and just watched her sitting cross-legged on the floor, a toddler in her lap, another tugging on her braids. She laughed hard, and I saw the mother she’s going to be one day. Only sixteen and already instinctively protective.
I’m just finishing up some paperwork in my office, thinking it’s probably time to head home, when there’s a knock and Hugo pokes his head in. “Evening, boss. I’m going to take Lucia home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I blink at him, confused. “So you’re leaving without me?”
He grins like he knows something I don’t. “Yup. Your chariot awaits outside, Ma’am.” He laughs to himself and tips an imaginary hat. “Have a great evening.”
And then he’s gone. I stare at the empty doorway for a few seconds, suspicion prickling under my skin. My chariot?
I shut down my computer, stack the files I need, and slide them into my bag.
Subconsciously, I smooth my hands over the desk, never taking for granted the life I’ve built here, and this job that I love.
Then I grab my purse and lock the office behind me.
I call out a goodbye to Kristen at the front desk and step through the doors—and then I forget how to breathe.
He’s leaning back in the driver’s seat like he owns the road beneath him.
The late afternoon sun glints off the sleek black curves of a Bugatti Veyron, the kind of car you only ever see in music videos or behind velvet ropes.
The engine purrs low and dangerous as he revs it once, slowly, deliberately.
I practically moan. The grin that spreads across Alejandro’s face when he sees me is wicked and sinful. My heart flutters in my chest.