Lev: a Shot Callers novel (3 page)

My stomach flipped at her sweet smile. “Goodnight, Mina.”

She lowered her lashes. “Goodnight.”

I watched her walk down an alley connecting to the street behind, waited until she was out of sight then started the car and drove two blocks down.

With a light sigh, I parked my car, turned the lights off, and waited.

Chapter Five
Mina

My
God
, but was Lev intense or
what
?

The car drove away and I waited a full two minutes before I walked out of the alley and started the three-block walk down to
my
alley.

I fanned my face thinking about
him
. Gods above, he was simply divine.

I looked down at myself, my face heating. Here I was, thinking about my handsome guardian angel, and I looked like an extra from the movie
Swamp Thing
.

I hugged myself tightly with my free arm. Clutching the watch in my hand, I decided not to risk losing it and put it on. Unfortunately, as I struggled with the latch, I realized a little too late that even in the smallest position, it was too loose. Still, I pushed it up my forearm.

I would return this watch, dammit. Even if it was the last thing I ever did.

The bag of food by my side, I walked hastily. I didn’t want to risk any unwanted attention tonight. I needed to get home quickly.

Finally, I reached my destination and, moving behind the dumpster, I fished out my bag of miscellaneous crap.

Great.
All my clothes were dirty. Not that I had much, but at least I could wear my too-big black jeans and my white tee. I held up the garments, immediately spotting the brown stain on the once-white shirt.

I’d have to do laundry tomorrow. But,
shit
, I still had no money.

How embarrassing.
I would not be starting work in dirty freaking clothes. I would just have to beg tomorrow morning, praying someone would gift me the quarters I needed for a single load.

The voice behind me startled me, so much that I jumped, squeaked, and fell flat on my ass into a puddle of piss-smelling mud.

“It’s not much, but it’s home, huh?”

Panting, I turned to Lev, my voice cutting. “What the heck are you doing here?”

My derision didn’t deter him. I wasn’t really angry at him, just mortified. I couldn’t exactly greet him with a ‘Welcome to my humble abode. Mineral water? Whiskey?’

All I could offer was the smell of trash and questionable puddles.

He stepped closer, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I had a feeling you weren’t being completely honest with me. So I followed you.”

Yeah. No shit, Sherlock.

Ass in puddle, I held my arms wide and smiled mockingly. “Do you like it? I just had the walls done. I think the color is called shit brown.” I sniffed noticeably. “Oh no, wait.” Sarcasm dripped from my every word. “That
is
shit.”

That brow rose, and I wanted to take a handful of my piss puddle and fling it at him. Instead, I stood, the cold puddle liquid dripping down my legs. My cheeks colored as I toned down the sass. “I think, after seeing the place, you can understand why I didn’t want company.”

He ignored me. “Do you have a family somewhere?”

Shoving my clothes back into my bag of crap, I shook my head.

“I’m sure there are shelters around these parts. Why aren’t you staying at one?”

I zipped the bag harder than I should have. He wouldn’t understand, even if I spelled it out letter-by-letter. “Trust me when I tell you that they aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” I threw the bag over my shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find a Laundromat to beg in front of tomorrow morning so I can
not
smell like a pool of urine.”

He straightened, keys in hand, and turned, jerking his chin at me. “Come along, mouse.”

I sighed. Why was he being so kind? “I don’t need a ride. I can find one myself.”

He paused at the beginning of the alley. “Not taking you to the damn Laundromat. I’m taking you home.” He cocked his head slightly. “That is, unless you don’t want a warm bed to sleep in and somewhere to wash those rags.”

I ignored the jibe and watched him walk back out onto the street.

Time passed. I didn’t even know this guy. I shouldn’t have even considered it. But anything was better than the street. I hauled my bag up higher onto my shoulder.

And like the lost puppy I was, I followed Lev home.

***

“
This
is home?” I asked in astonishment as he pressed the button on the remote attached to the sun visor above his head.

The huge iron gates opened and he grunted his affirmative response.

Still in awe, I asked, “Do you get lost in here?”

He snuffled, and it sounded awful close to a laugh, but I seriously doubted it. “Don’t be fooled. It’s actually three houses in one complex. My brother and sister live here also.”

That drew me out of my admiration instantly. A shiver went down my spine as dread took me by surprise. “Wait, what? Your brother? The same brother whose wallet I stole?” He nodded silently and, eyes wide in alarm, I squawked, “I can’t stay here!”

“Relax.” He said this in such a bored tone that it sounded as if it took him all the effort in the world to say it. “It’s fine. He’s not home yet, and my sister is out of town at the moment. We have the entire complex to ourselves. For now.”

My stomach tightened in a bundle of nerves, but I stayed quiet for fear of losing the food I’d just eaten. He drove farther down the long drive until it split into a T-junction. He turned left, and I saw one of the three houses.

It was still massive compared to the regular homes and apartments I was used to seeing. The two-story home was beautifully designed from the outside, and held a romantic style with quaint terraces in off-whites and light sandy yellows. The lights were on, and I suddenly wondered if anyone else lived with him. The thick silver ring on his wedding ring finger would suggest so.

“Are you married?”

“No.”

My tense shoulders lowered a little. Well, that was good. I didn’t need a woman around accusing me of all kinds of nastiness. Women could be brutal.

He parked outside the property, walked around, and helped me out of the car, taking my bag of crap from me with one hand and holding out his elbow graciously. I took it almost immediately, and he led me up the front steps, unlocking the door. The giant glass door was pushed lightly, and the house revealed itself.

My gut rolled aggressively. I
so
did not belong here.

The inside of the house was pristine, with white, sparkling marble and wooden masculine furniture. The very first thing that caught my eye in the giant foyer was the staircases on the left and right, leading up to the second floor and meeting in the middle.

What was it called when stairs did that?

“It’s an imperial staircase. Many royal houses in Russia have it.”

I turned to him, not realizing I had asked the question out loud. Then I turned back to the stairs. “That’s a little arrogant, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him. “Comparing yourself to royalty and all.”

His lip lifted so slightly that I might’ve imagined it. “That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” He side-eyed me right back. “To assume I don’t stem from royalty.”

My eyes widened as I whispered, “Do you?”

He turned to me and, I
swear
, his eyes smiled. “No.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head as he walked to the left side of the stairs and began to walk up. “Follow me, mouse.”

Mouse? Why
mouse
? Why not just call me what I am?

A street rat.

At the top of the stairs, we came across two halls, one leading left, and the other leading to the right. He seemed to hesitate a moment before he turned left, and took me to the door at the very end of the hall. He placed his hand on the fancy brass lever and threw the door open, lifting a hand to turn on the lights.

It was a bedroom. Definitely a man’s bedroom. A woman would be too conservative to furnish a room in such garish furniture and strong, royal colors.

It looked more like an apartment, really, at least four times the size of a normal bedroom. I definitely couldn’t complain about the room, if this was to be where I was going to sleep. There were three floor-to-ceiling windows in this one room. The drapes were the fancy, ruched kind in a dark burgundy with gold trim. In the right corner of the room was a large, maroon, suede sectional sofa, which took on an L-shape to fit into the angle perfectly. The bed was placed opposite the couch, a king-sized mahogany sleigh bed with heavy dark red covers and more pillows than was necessary. There was no TV, or any sort of entertainment other than the full wall-to-wall bookshelf on the left.

I stood there, mouth gaping. “Wow. This is so fancy.”

His next sentence had me confused. “This is my room.”

“Then why—” Realization had me taking a step back and away from him. My voice deceptively calm, I stated, “I am not sleeping with you.”

He looked me up and down then scoffed. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Oh, Mina…again with the assumptions!

I turned my head to hide the fact that my face was now beet red. I was making a goddamn fool out of myself. Of course he didn’t want to sleep with me, not when he had an endless stream of gorgeous women likely panting for him down at Bleeding Hearts. I was such a jerk. “I don’t understand.”

Lev stepped farther into the room before turning left and disappearing into what must have been a hidden closet. When he came back to me, he was minus his suit jacket and his sleeves were rolled up. He stopped a foot away from me, held up his phone, and before I could say a word, the flash went off.

“Hey,” I complained, scrunching my nose.

He shrugged, placing the cell into his pocket. “Just a little insurance policy, in case you decide to leave in the middle of the night with some of my things.” He looked at me. “It’s nothing personal. I don’t know you. I’m positive you’re not sure about me either. You don’t know me. But as long as you’re in my home, you and I will be sleeping in the same room.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand and kept talking. “The sofa folds out into a bed. That’s where I’ll sleep. You can take the bed. You’ll forgive me for not putting my trust into someone who I’ve known for less than three hours. Especially under the circumstances we met.”

Well…when he put it like that, maybe I was being a bit of a brat by protesting.

Okay. I was just going to have to pull up my big-girl panties and deal.

Speaking of panties...
“I don’t have any clean clothes.” I held up my bag. “Is there somewhere I can wash these?”

He took the bag from me and I blanched. “No, wait, I can do it!” I jumped for it, but he held it out of my reach. “Give it back!”

“I just want to be sure you don’t have anything dangerous in here.” He eyed me good. “My safety will always come before your pride. Got that?”

Well, shit.

It took me a whole five seconds to give in. “Okay, but can I please be the one to empty it?” He hesitated. I plead gently, “Please.”

He waited a moment before he handed me the bag. “Okay, but you’ll do it right here. Right in front of me.”

Damn it. I would just have to try and conceal what I needed to as inconspicuously as I could. One by one, I took things out of my pack. Two t-shirts, a ratty men’s sweater, which served me well in the colder weather, a pair of black jeans with holes at the bottom, a pair of grey socks, and…

Wrapping them quickly, I tried to slip them into my pocket, but a hand gripping my wrist stopped me. He squeezed tight and I went rigid.

“Show me.”

Pride held me captive. My cheeks burned.

He squeezed hard enough to bruise and I winced. “
Show me
.”

I pulled them out of my pocket and tossed them onto the bed. Distressed, I whispered, “Panties. Just panties.”

He glanced at the black balls of material on the bed before turning my bag upside down and shaking it. The small Swiss army knife I’d found on the street fell out of the side pocket. I immediately defended the concealment. “It’s blunt.”

With analyzing eyes, he held it up to examine it. “You could still stick it through someone if you needed it to.” He put it into his pocket. “You won’t need this anymore.”

Of course I wouldn’t. How about my soul? Want that, too? It’s not like I need it.

I was grateful, of course, but I still didn’t understand this guy’s motive.

Taking my bag, he shoved the clothes back into them and threw it high onto his shoulder. “Come,” he ordered, and dutiful as I was, I followed. A door on the left side of the room, next to the wall-to-wall bookshelf, was opened, and at the sight of the bath, shower, shampoo, and soaps, a tremor of delight coursed through me.

“You can wash up in here. Take your time.” He stepped back and added, “I only ask that you don’t lock the door. I won’t come in unless I need to. When I call out, please respond, or else I’ll believe you’re in need of assistance.”

That sounded reasonable. But still, I asked, “You promise you won’t come in?”