Page 23 of Guarded

Remember when I said he was a good guy? Ya, fuck him. Generosity was clearly a mistake when it came to this annoying asshole.

I give him a hard stare before I light my cigarette and focus on the blank hills in front of us. The Russians were always late. This wouldn’t be the first time we waited over three hours for them. Jasper and I kept ourselves entertained in silence, but Louie was making Ariella seem mute in comparison.

“The things I would do to her. I would just motorboat the hell out of those jugs.” He continues.

Louie shakes his face, demonstrating his desires, and I take a deep inhale. I shoot Jasper a warning glance—one that says, “Shut him up, or I’ll shut him up.”

Jasper walks over to Louie and steals the other half of the sandwich, shutting him up as he stares him down.

I’m barely finished with my cigarette when I see a large van like the one we brought making its way down the dark road. We had used this secluded place for the last three trades, and it proved to be secure. The corrupt fucking police were on the Russian’s payroll, so that turned a blind eye to our affairs.

The van slows, and the driver gets out to open the back. Four men jump out, and I recognize all of them except the man getting out of the passenger seat. Unlike the other men in bulletproof vests and net gators, he’s wearing a designer suit, hair slicked back, and tattoos covering every visible inch of his skin from the neck down.

I feel for the gun tucked into the back of my jeans. The men begin to speak in Russian until Rodya, an older man who speaks broken English, steps forward. Rodya is a familiar face, and while I don’t trust anyone, it’s safe to assume he is not a threat. I leave my gun in my jeans and step toward him.

“Rodya,” Jasper says, looking at me with uncertainty.

Rodya and the man in the suit take lackluster steps toward us. Their eyes are vacant, and their expressions somber. When Rodya reaches us, he lets out a long, low sigh.

“There is a trader among us, and my boss has come to warn you.” He says with a thick Russian accent.

I look at Jasper. The man in the suit continues to speak with Rodya in their native tongue. Rodya nods his head and then translates the man’s concerns to us.

“Boss says he thinks the Italians have sent a spy to infiltrate our operations. Our men were ambushed last week when picking up guns. Nobody knew that meeting place. Boss wants to slow the trade until we find the traitor.”

Rodya turns back to the man and tells him something in Russian.

“Tell your leader, the one with the scar down his face, to meet us tomorrow morning at Tres Coronas, nine a.m. sharp. We’ll be waiting in the rear corner booth. Do not bring any other men.” Rodya says, eyeing us.

We nod, but I look at Jasper. Tres Coronas was the restaurant inside Calavera Hotels. Leatherface was not welcomed there after all the bullshit he pulled this last year.

The suited man returns to the front of the van, and the other men go to the back to remove the guns. We open the back of our van and begin to load the guns inside. It’s quiet as we work fast to load the cargo. It’s not until we see their headlights disappear into the night that Jasper whispers to me.

“I think we just met Kostya Pashokov.”

None of us outside of Leatherface had met Pashokov, the leader of the Russian Bratva. I knew he was running the trade and had offered Los Peregrinos the job after our Rival gang, Los Bandoleros, had betrayed him.

Kostya wanted them dead after his sister was found in a human trafficking ring. She was rescued by the Houston Cartel Connect and took sanctuary in California with Ariella’s family.

“Call Cass and tell him what’s going on.” I bark to Louie.

I get on my bike and start the engine. Jasper and I wait until Louie moves the van ahead of us before we trail behind him. We had to make it safe across the border and back. This was no doubt going to be a long fucking night.

Chapter 8

Ariella

Iwas prepared to walk into my first aerobics class with only the two people who had signed up. It was a complete surprise when I showed up and found eight women waiting outside the studio doors.

“Good morning. I’m Ariella, your instructor.” I greet the women in line.

The elation in my body becomes my energy source, and I push down all my nerves.

Eight people had faith in me, and that was more than enough. I put the headset on and start the playlist.

“Welcome to Body Jam! Today’s class will combine High-intensity interval training, dance and strength training. Take your time and listen to your body! You got this!” I cheer.

My enthusiasm is a façade because deep down, I want to scream. The elation I felt seconds ago is now a full-blown panic attack. While most people have a W.W.J.D. type of mantra, I have a W.W.T.D. mantra.What would Thalia do?

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