stopped him from texting like clockwork every day. Call me. I miss you. Come back to me. The florist's delivery driver had practically worn a path to her back door. I'm sorry , said every card. Please forgive me .
She knew he meant it, that was the thing. He was sorry. He did love her. He would do anything to win her back.
She just wasn't sure she wanted to be won.
It wasn't just about Alejandro. At least, she didn't want it to be just about Alejandro. Her first love, the first man she'd ever given herself to, had re-appeared after ten years and plucked her heart from her chest as easily as a child plucking a dandelion. She hadn't stood a chance when she bumped into him looking gorgeous and dangerous and hungry for her. When he'd said the words she'd waited ten years to hear, she knew she'd never stopped loving him.
There were damned good reasons to end things with Bobby, anyway. He hated her job. She hated his mother. He wanted her on his arm for his political campaign. She wanted a quiet life with privacy. Marrying Bobby meant selling the ranch she'd inherited from her grandmother, the place where she'd practically grown up. Bobby's life of politics meant galas and campaign events and nights away from home. She didn't want their children raised by someone else. Her grandmother had essentially raised her, though her parents would never admit to that, and Bobby and his brother had a nanny growing up. Ali vowed that her kids would have something different. Something much, much better.
But if she was very honest with herself, she didn't think Alejandro could provide that, either.
Alejandro Rojas was the VP of the Padre Knights, an outlaw MC. He'd come back to Arroyo Flats with his club brothers for a brief assignment. Ali wasn't clear on all the details, but she knew it had something to do with smuggling illegals across the Mexican border to the US. If Bobby was to be believed, the Padre Knights MC was also involved in drug smuggling and selling stolen weapons.
What Bobby and the law didn't see was the way the club took care of their own, making sure the parents who raised them and the communities they'd come from had what they needed. Just last weekend one of the guys had shown up with Alejandro to repair her downstairs faucet, which had plagued her for months. They spent half the time they'd been in town over on the South Side fixing fences and painting houses and Lord knew what else.
The good outweighed the bad, she argued with herself whenever she got to worrying about Alejandro's criminal actions. You couldn't argue with an old lady getting a ramp put over her front steps because she could no longer take the stairs. Or the rec center getting a big donation so the pee-wee football team could buy new helmets. Though Arroyo Flats had plenty of wealthy residents, that wealth did not flow downhill. Those at the bottom—the ones who cleaned the houses and fixed the cars and tended the gardens of their wealthier neighbors—scraped to get by. So in the grand scheme of things, did it really matter if a few illegal aliens took a shortcut into the country if it meant some hardworking people in Arroyo Flats were taken care of by the club?
Ali didn't think so.
But she also knew it wasn't all black and white. A Robin Hood approach was very romantic, but the cold fact reminded her that Alejandro broke the law for a living. That meant the constant threat of prison or death. Alejandro was still healing from a gunshot wound he'd taken a couple weeks back when a hand-off had gone wrong. Every time he took his shirt off, the angry red line on his arm reminded her that she could lose him in a heartbeat.
She couldn't raise children like that, either. She couldn't worry every time he was out of her sight that she'd never see him again, or that the next time she saw him he'd be dying in a hospital bed. She didn't want her children to grow up without a father, or worse, visiting their
She knew he meant it, that was the thing. He was sorry. He did love her. He would do anything to win her back.
She just wasn't sure she wanted to be won.
It wasn't just about Alejandro. At least, she didn't want it to be just about Alejandro. Her first love, the first man she'd ever given herself to, had re-appeared after ten years and plucked her heart from her chest as easily as a child plucking a dandelion. She hadn't stood a chance when she bumped into him looking gorgeous and dangerous and hungry for her. When he'd said the words she'd waited ten years to hear, she knew she'd never stopped loving him.
There were damned good reasons to end things with Bobby, anyway. He hated her job. She hated his mother. He wanted her on his arm for his political campaign. She wanted a quiet life with privacy. Marrying Bobby meant selling the ranch she'd inherited from her grandmother, the place where she'd practically grown up. Bobby's life of politics meant galas and campaign events and nights away from home. She didn't want their children raised by someone else. Her grandmother had essentially raised her, though her parents would never admit to that, and Bobby and his brother had a nanny growing up. Ali vowed that her kids would have something different. Something much, much better.
But if she was very honest with herself, she didn't think Alejandro could provide that, either.
Alejandro Rojas was the VP of the Padre Knights, an outlaw MC. He'd come back to Arroyo Flats with his club brothers for a brief assignment. Ali wasn't clear on all the details, but she knew it had something to do with smuggling illegals across the Mexican border to the US. If Bobby was to be believed, the Padre Knights MC was also involved in drug smuggling and selling stolen weapons.
What Bobby and the law didn't see was the way the club took care of their own, making sure the parents who raised them and the communities they'd come from had what they needed. Just last weekend one of the guys had shown up with Alejandro to repair her downstairs faucet, which had plagued her for months. They spent half the time they'd been in town over on the South Side fixing fences and painting houses and Lord knew what else.
The good outweighed the bad, she argued with herself whenever she got to worrying about Alejandro's criminal actions. You couldn't argue with an old lady getting a ramp put over her front steps because she could no longer take the stairs. Or the rec center getting a big donation so the pee-wee football team could buy new helmets. Though Arroyo Flats had plenty of wealthy residents, that wealth did not flow downhill. Those at the bottom—the ones who cleaned the houses and fixed the cars and tended the gardens of their wealthier neighbors—scraped to get by. So in the grand scheme of things, did it really matter if a few illegal aliens took a shortcut into the country if it meant some hardworking people in Arroyo Flats were taken care of by the club?
Ali didn't think so.
But she also knew it wasn't all black and white. A Robin Hood approach was very romantic, but the cold fact reminded her that Alejandro broke the law for a living. That meant the constant threat of prison or death. Alejandro was still healing from a gunshot wound he'd taken a couple weeks back when a hand-off had gone wrong. Every time he took his shirt off, the angry red line on his arm reminded her that she could lose him in a heartbeat.
She couldn't raise children like that, either. She couldn't worry every time he was out of her sight that she'd never see him again, or that the next time she saw him he'd be dying in a hospital bed. She didn't want her children to grow up without a father, or worse, visiting their
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