When it was painfully clear that Ali was not coming back into the church to laugh and say it had all been a practical joke, Bobby’s eyes turned to Alejandro. Alejandro, for his part, sighed, ready to be the fence that kept Bobby off Ali’s ass long enough for her to get away. He could manage that much at least.
“You son of a bitch,” Bobby roared as he barreled down the aisle. Dodging him was easy, and as gratifying as it would have been to let the ass land on his fist—or even better, a knife—Alejandro knew better. The only face in the church he’d even hoped would be friendly to him belonged to his cousin, and with the expression she wore, like she’d just taken a sip of someone’s shitty moonshine, she wasn’t going to come to his aid. He hadn’t come this far to be jailed on assault charges by a wannabe lawyer.
Bobby managed to keep his feet, and seemed then to realize where he was. He stood up, straightened his cummerbund, and fixed Alejandro with a glare that might have made other politicians back down. Alejandro just grinned, and he saw Bobby’s nerve crack. He hid it well, but it happened, all the same. “Bobby,” he said, letting his voice slide low and dangerous, letting it be the knife he hadn’t wanted to carry into the church. “This is nothing to do with me. I haven’t talked to Ali since she started wearing your ring again. You made your own bed.”
“Rojas,” Bobby said, his voice low and threatening. “You don’t want to tangle with me.”
Alejandro let some wildness slip into his grin, the crazed crackle of the biker that made good boys back off and run. He laughed, and let the tension drip from his fingers like fresh crude. “We’ve been tangling for weeks now. I’m surprised you only just noticed.”
“She’s mine,” Bobby hissed, sounding like nothing so much as a little boy still in diapers crying after a lost toy. “She’s mine, you hear me, so you stay away.”
Alejandro couldn’t help but laugh then. Mamá would slap his ear for laughing in church, but she also would have understood. “I’m pretty sure she just told us both that she’s no one’s but her own.” He turned on his heel and left the church. He doubted he’d just made anything easier for Ali, but hell, that hadn’t ever been one of his talents no matter how he’d tried. And he needed to get out of there before chaos happened. It wasn’t going to be long. His cousin would never believe he wasn’t involved, and was probably going to try and rip his face off, and he did not want to be around whenever Ali’s and Bobby’s mothers got moving. He was sure he could take the fathers, if it came to it, but angry women fought dirty.
On the steps, he glanced around the parking lot. He could smell the nasty odor of fresh vomit, and over in the far end of the church lot, he could see a puddle of white satin. He had to laugh to himself; the Ali he knew a decade ago would have left her wedding dress in the parking lot in order to make a better escape, no question. Good for her.
He’d told the scumbag lawyer the truth months ago. Just because Ali left him, it hadn’t meant that she’d come back to Alejandro. He hoped she would, and he hoped she wouldn’t. Things between the Padres and the Diablos weren’t getting any less tense, and he didn’t want her in harm’s way, but his nights had been cold and lonely without her, and it wasn’t just the nights. He wanted the days with her as well, the time to tell her the truth about what he was doing. To get her advice about how to deal with things. He wanted to hear her laugh and tell him not to worry, that she could handle herself.
And yeah, sheathing himself inside of her hot body would be part of that, without question. But he needed to give her some time first. She hadn’t married Bobby. That was all he needed for today.
He started to walk toward his bike, moving fast now, when his phone rang. He answered the call, but before he could even get the word hello out, he heard Zig-Zag’s panicked voice. “Shakespeare, that you?”
“Zig, what’s happening?”
He could hear the younger man taking a long breath, though it didn’t do much to steady him. “The Diablos. They came to the warehouse, and— Shit, there’s so much blood, so many guys, what do I do—”
For it to have rattled Benny, things must be awful. “I’m on my way. Do what you can. Don’t lose your shit, okay, Zig? We might need you in what comes next.”