LOVE ABOVE LAW Read online

  2

  Leyna

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I've concluded Thomás is not going to show for his tutoring session. Thomás is a thirty-five-year-old father of three. He works two jobs to support his wife and three children. I have been teaching him to speak English for the past two months.

  Cuba, specifically, Havana is a huge tourist attraction. The jobs at hotels and restaurants pay a little more than others and knowing English will almost guarantee you a position. Thomás told me his primary goal is to get hired on at one of the finer five-star resorts, so he can ditch the two positions he has now. Knowing Thomás and how seriously he takes his lessons, I know for a fact he has a good reason for not showing up today.

  I love what I do. In fact, I almost went to school to become a teacher. But when I was eighteen, I began teaching a friend of mine English. Before I knew it, people were coming at me left and right for lessons. That was five years ago. I'm twenty-three now. It's my brother Gabriel I owe everything to. When I was fifteen, he bought me one of those DVD sets that teach you how to speak another language.

  Thinking about my hermano causes a wave of sadness to wash over me. My father fled Cuba when I was a young girl taking Gabriel with him. I'll never forget the morning Mamá, and I woke to find Papi and Gabriel gone. My father had left my mother a note. Fourteen years of marriage and my father leaves a note. To this day I have never quite forgiven him for what he did to my family—for splitting us up. My father's poor choices lead to a shattered marriage and a broken family. My mother cried every day for a year after Papi left. Not only did she lose a husband, but she lost her son. For me, my only heartbreak was for my brother. I was too angry with my father to give him my tears; he didn't deserve them.

  At the time my father disappeared from Cuba, I didn't fully understand why. My mother refused to tell me what was in the letter. I found it a few years later in my her dresser drawer. I never told her I read it. I feel guilty for invading her privacy like that, but I couldn't stand being in the dark about the truth any longer. And the truth is, my papi was a thief. He stole to provide a better life for his family. And because he was caught, he was facing many years in jail. So, it was prison or take his chances on making it to the states. He and Gabriel spent seven days in the open sea.

  I can't begin to imagine what that was like for them. Especially a child. I was twelve when we received the news Papi had died and that's when Mamá thoroughly checked out. I think she had held out hope over the years that God would give her a miracle and Papi would return to us. After my father died, I began to worry about how Mamá was going to take care of us. We had become completely dependent on the money he was sending us each month. But my mother being the strong woman she was, held her head high and did what she had to do to pay the bills and put food on the table. That meant working two jobs.

  It was about a year after my father passed away Gabriel started sending money. He provided enough my mother was able to quit her second job. My brother sent enough she didn't need to work at all, but I think she kept on for the security. Being left high and dry just once in your life will teach you that security is not only essential but comforting. It was when I was nineteen my mother died. I came home one evening from one of my tutoring sessions to find my mother had passed away in her sleep. The doctors say she had a heart attack. I say she died of a broken heart.

  In a way I found comfort in knowing she was finally back with her true love in heaven. Over the years my mother never moved on. She stayed faithful to her wedding vows—all the way to the end. Breaking the news to Gabriel had been one of the hardest things I had ever done. He had always hoped to bring Mamá and me to The United States. The three of us genuinely believed we'd one day be together again. Since then my brother has been working hard to make the dream of bringing brother and sister together again a reality.

  Gabriel says it won't be too much longer now. He says times are changing and so is the relationship between Cuba and the United States. I pray he's right. Gabriel is all I have left in this world. Sure, I have aunts, uncles, and cousins, but since my brother was ripped away from me, I feel lost. I feel like a part of me is missing. Now that Mamá is gone there is nothing left for me in Cuba. I'm terrified to start over in a new place, but knowing I'll have Gabriel by my side has me ready to take that leap.

  My brother and I are just as close today as we were when we were kids. We talk every week and tell each other everything. We have no secrets. We've always promised each other whether good, bad, or ugly we would keep nothing from each other. Just last week Gabriel confessed he was in love with a young woman named Alba, but he screwed up, and he lost her. After he explained to me the full story of what went down with this girl, I told him I understood why he did what he did to push her away, but I didn't hold back telling him he had made the wrong decision and was a huge dick.

  I love my brother, but he knows I'm a holds-no-bar type of woman. If he's acting stupid, I'm most definitely going to tell him. Hell, he has no qualms doing the same to me. Truth hurts, but sometimes you got to hear it. Especially from the people who love you the most, because you know they're doing it from a place of love. That's like three years ago I was dating a guy named Emilio. After two months of seeing each other, he still had not introduced me to any of his friends, his family, or taken me to his house.

  Emilio had said the time wasn't right yet, but my big brother said my boyfriend was married. I thought no way was Emilio married. Besides, Gabriel had never even laid eyes on the guy, how could he have come up with such a scenario. It was ludicrous. It was when Emilio began pressuring me for sex that I kept hearing my brothers nagging words in the back of my head. So, I decided to put Gabriel's suspicions to rest. One evening after Emilio dropped me off at home after a date, I followed him. I stalked him to the next town over. I hid behind a truck parked on the side of the street and watched as he opened the front door of his house and was greeted by a woman and two small children. My brother had called it, and he was right.

  Was I upset? Yes. More than that, I was pissed. Nobody fucks with Leyna Martinez and gets away with it. Some women would have walked up to his house, banged on his door and confronted the man. That wasn't my style though. I was not going to be the one responsible for breaking his wife and children's hearts. I am not a homewrecker. The wife will catch on to the bastards two-timing ways soon enough. What I did was turn around and go back home. I ghosted Emilio's cheating ass for a few days before he showed up at my doorstep. When I opened the door, I didn't say a word. I balled up my fist and punched him square in the nose. I hit him the way my big brother taught me to hit when I was five years old and a boy at school wouldn't stop pulling my hair.

  The day I slammed the door in Emilio's bloody face was the day I realized how grateful I was to Gabriel for always speaking the truth no matter how hard it is to hear.

  My brother's opinion is something I hold dear. Gabriel is the only man whom I can trust completely. Let's say I've learned my lesson when it comes to men. It's best not to get too close. Once you let them in, they'll only disappoint—all except Gabriel. My brother has lived a hard life and is wise beyond his years. Growing up the way he did. Having to live on the streets as a teenager after our father was killed hardened him in ways but also gave him the ability to read people.

  Eventually, my brother found a new home and purpose with an MC Club called The Kings of Retribution. Though I don't know too much about the club, I am not naive either. I learned years ago not to ask too many questions. As long as my brother is happy and healthy, I don't really care. I was thrilled to learn Gabriel was able to turn his love of drawing into a career as a tattoo artist. I can tell by the tone of his voice when I ask him how work is going that he truly loves what he does.

  A movement to my left brings me back to the present. I see a couple of young women seated at the table next to me have begun gathering their books and packing their bookbags. When I peer at the clock on the wall again, I realize I've been sittin
g here daydreaming for over an hour. Giving up on Thomás showing, I go about gathering my things. Once I've cleared my table, I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way out of the library.

  Hopping on my bike, I begin my three-mile ride home. Gabriel has been insisting on buying me a car, but I still haven't bit the bullet and learned how to drive. I live in the city anyway. Any place I need to go is within a couple of miles from my house. If for whatever reason I need to go out of town I can call on one of my cousins or take the bus.

  Knowing I need a few groceries, I stop at the corner market a block away from home. Climbing off my bike, I prop it against the wall outside the market entrance. "Hola Señor Diaz," I greet the elderly man who owns the market. I've been shopping here since I was a small child and have known Señor Diaz for what feels like forever. "Hola, Leyna. Como estas?"

  "Bien y tú?" I reply with a warm smile and exchange pleasantries back and forth with Señor Diaz for a minute before I continue with my shopping.

  While peddling the last block to my house, I smile at the children playing hopscotch on the sidewalk and think back to a time when I was a little girl and how I used to follow my brother everywhere. Gabriel and I were partners in crime, and though he was older than me he never complained about me being his shadow. His friends knew the score too. None of them dare say anything about his annoying little sister. When my house comes into view, a pang of sadness washes over me. I still live in the same house I grew up in. Sometimes I forget Mamá is gone and I expect to see her sitting on the front stoop drinking coffee and gossiping with the neighbor.

  Picking my bike up, I haul it up the steps to my front door and lean it against the wall. With my grocery bag in one hand and my keys in the other, I unlock the door. The moment I step through, a chill runs down my spine, and I immediately get an uneasy feeling in my gut. Reaching to my right, I flip on the lamp sitting on the table by the front door and I am shocked to see three strange men standing in my house. The bag in my hand drops to the floor, and I go to scream but I'm cut off when one of the men produces a gun, aiming it straight at me. "Not one word," he instructs his tone calm. The man with the weapon continues to keep it trained on me until a guy wearing a grey suit gives him a signal to lower his gun. I breathe a sigh of relief when he does. I try to come up with a logical reason why these men whom I've never seen before could be in my house holding a gun to me.

  "I see you are confused so, let me start by introducing myself," the man in the suit says taking a step further in my direction. "My name is Miguel Santiago. I am an acquaintance of your brother."

  "My brother?" I ask confused. "I believe you have me confused with someone else."

  "There is no confusion Ms. Martinez."

  The moment my name leaves his mouth, my stomach clenches. I know for a fact the man in front of me is not a friend of Gabriel's. The man in front of me has evil in his eyes. My brother would never associate himself with evil. Bad? Yes. Evil? No.

  "You see, Ms. Martinez, I want something from your brother. Only I know he will need some convincing to give me what I want, and you are going to help me convince him."

  I straighten my back and jut out my chin. "I'm not helping you do shit." Santino chuckles and takes two more steps toward me until he's in my face. He reaches up and grabs a fist full of my hair and roughly yanks my head back. It takes everything in me not to knee the guy in the balls. As if he can read my thoughts one of Santino's men raises his gun once again.

  "You are mistaken to think you have a choice in the matter, Ms. Martinez. The only choice you have right now is to either come with me willingly or the latter, and trust me, you will not like your second option," he warns.

  Pressing my lips together and holding my tongue, I nod. It's not in my nature to keep my mouth shut. I am after all a Martinez, but even I know when to hold back. If the asshole standing over Santino's shoulder didn't have a gun, we'd be singing a whole different tune. Releasing his hold on my hair, Miguel turns his back not giving me a second thought while he barks orders at his men. "Handle her and let's go," he says walking out the front door of my house while the man with the gun strides up to me, grabbing my upper arm roughly. "Move."

  Struggling against his hold, I sneer at the man.

  "Keep it up, bitch. I like it when they fight back," his slimy voice whispers in my ear causing me to recoil. Something tells me I need to watch my back with this one. The look in his eyes says he's not opposed to making his statement a reality.

  3

  Lex

  After another sleepless night hitting the gym at 4:00 am proved to be just what I needed this morning. Lucky for me I live in a building where my gym happens to be located on the first floor. I pay a ridiculous amount in rent every month for not only the little perks they offer but they also have top-notch security, and that was my top priority when I chose to relocate to downtown Seattle after completing FBI training a few years ago. I'm not that far from the famous Ferris Wheel down at Pier 57.

  As I'm on my way to my third-floor apartment via the stairs my phone rings. Retrieving it from the pocket of my gym shorts, I swipe the screen answering the call. "Talk to me," I skip a stair between steps doing an extra workout with my ascent.

  "We've got some new intel on Santino. Need you in the office in forty." Kurt, one of the agents on the Santino case, informs me.

  "You got it." Not one for words he quickly ends the phone call. I've worked with Kurt before, and he is damn good at his job. Every breakthrough and bust our division has had Kurt has been a part of because of his intelligence experience along with his IT knowledge. Not to mention the guy is intimidating as hell.

  Sprinting up the remaining stairs, I enter the hallway leading to my apartment. The bureau is roughly a twenty-minute commute from my building; another reason I chose this place, so shedding my sweaty clothes, I grab a quick shower. It doesn't take me long before I've dressed and back out the door.

  The elevator doors slide open to reveal Mrs. Smith from the fourth floor. Since living here, she has continuously flirted with me. She isn't the least bit shy about doing so either. I'd been in the building for a couple of months before I ever met her husband. Yep. Married. She introduced me to her husband Clark, then proceeded to proposition me in front of him. The older man never batted an eye. He acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world for his wife to be doing such a thing. It turns out they have an open marriage.

  Now that's a concept I can't wrap my head around. If and when you meet the one—the one person you can't live without—the one that keeps that fire in your soul burning; how or why would you want to share them with any other person is beyond me.

  I now know mine and April's relationship wasn't meant to last forever. As hurtful as the betrayal was, her cheating on me didn't crush me. It didn't rip my heart out of my chest. Like Nonna said last night, there are reasons everything happens in life—good and bad. It's all preparing us for what's to come. April wasn't my future. And you can be damn sure once I find her I'm not sharing.

  "Mr. Taylor," she adjusts her posture pushing her breasts out a bit further. I appreciate beautiful breasts of all sizes, but I happen to like them natural. Nothing against the women who choose to get them or the men who love them; it's just not what I prefer.

  Tipping my head, I greet her. "Good morning, Mrs. Smith." Pushing the button for the garage, I step back against the left wall of the elevator.

  "The offer still stands, Mr. Taylor. I promise you won't be disappointed." She slides to my side of the small area we share.

  "I appreciate your determination, Mrs. Smith, but my answer is still no." I chuckle giving her a pleasant smile for her efforts. Luckily, she doesn't say another word, until the doors open, and she steps out into the lobby of the apartment building. Her eyes travel down my body. "You can't fault a woman for trying." I watch her saunter away with confidence knowing she will try again.

  On my way to the office, I stop in at the coffee shop and pick up the order I ca
lled in a few minutes ago. Parking in the below-ground garage, I lock my car and make my way into the building and take yet another elevator up to the eighth floor. When I step out and into the room Kurt, along with Dean and Kai are sitting at their desks. Dean has been here almost a year longer than me. Kai was part of my graduating class and one of three people including myself the FBI offered a position to here at the Seattle division.

  As soon as I take my seat at my desk, Kurt drops a new folder on top the pile already stacked in front of me. "Our brothers in Miami seized another drug shipment last night at the shipping yard. This bust was huge. We're talking seven digits worth of drugs along with some military grade artillery. They also snagged one of Santino's associates in the process. Unfortunately, as they were escorting our suspect from the loading dock to the back of one of their unmarked vehicles a bullet was put through the back of his head."

  "Shit. Sniper shot?" I question him and take a large gulp of my coffee.

  "You got it. An agent was hit as well. Fortunately, he is expected to make a full recovery."

  This seems to be the way the man does things. From what I've learned since being handed this case, Santino, values no life but his own. Almost every man associated with him the law has gotten its hands on over the past three years has wound up dead. "Do we still have surveillance on his estate down there?" I ask while I scribble notes on the margins of the paperwork in front of me.

  Dean flips open his laptop. "I'll pull up the latest images, but the most recent reports still say no signs of Santino. His staff has been the only people on the property for the past two weeks."