by Jewel, Bella
I know it’s not an idle one. Working with Tony has always been a double-edged sword. He feeds my addiction and pays me well, but deep down he’s the Devil. I broke all the rules and danced with him. Now I must pay the price.
“If you were a good girl, I wouldn’t have to.”
My lips press in a line as I stare at Tony. He rolls his shoulders, relaxing. Does he sense my acquiescence already? “I’ll do it.”
He nods, a smug smile forming. Cocky bastard. “You say that like you have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I say softly. Wearily. Because deep down in the darkest recess of my soul resides a hideous shame at the anticipation heating my blood. I live with this nefarious addiction. I know I have to quit. I promised myself and I promised Mason, yet my heart skips a beat at the thought of another job. Just one more. It’s lucrative and as long as I do it, I know my family will be safe. When I’m done I’ll pack up and move them all to another country. Starting a new life in this business is not uncommon. It’s what you do to survive. And I am a fucking survivor.
Tony steps forward, close enough for his chest to brush mine. I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze with defiance. He brushes his knuckles down my left cheek. “Then you made the right one, baby girl.”
“I’m not your baby girl, Tony.”
“Sure you’re not.” His lips quirk as he pulls an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and thrusts it between us. I shift back, taking it. It’s thick and heavy. “Open it.”
“I don’t need to.” He always pay the exact amount. No more, no less.
Tony’s eyes flicker with anticipation. “Your list is in there.”
“My list?”
I open the unsealed envelope. Inside, amongst a neat bound packet of hundred dollar notes, rests a folded piece of paper. My brows furrow as I pull it out and unfold it.
“Twelve cars,” Tony says, folding his arms as I stare at the page. They’ve been written down with care. I run my eye down the list, my stomach sinking. My job is twelve cars? And each one seemingly more impossible than the one before it. “Twelve weeks. The shipping containers are booked.” Tony disassembles cars like these. The parts are packed inside containers, hidden amongst legitimately purchased car parts, and shipped overseas. “Miss the final deadline, and we’ll be enjoying that toasty bonfire at your house to farewell the winter.”
Panic climbs my throat. “You can’t hang on to the cars that long. The cops will be all over you. The docks are the first place they’ll look. Your plan is pure insanity.”
“Let me worry about that, Ace. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.” His eyes harden. “Memorise that list and then burn it.”
Tony turns and walks away, leaving through the same door he came in from. My gaze shifts to Murphy. She hasn’t spoken a word through the entire exchange. “Can I walk you out?” she asks me.
“I know the way.” I turn and leave through the exit. Murphy follows. The air outside is frigid, and she rubs her bare arms. It’s almost like she doesn’t want me to leave. “What do you want?”
“I want you to teach me.”
“Teach you what? How to steal a car?” A huff of laughter escapes me. I’m tired and tonight’s events have left me delirious. “No. God, no.”
Murphy lifts her chin, and there’s a flash of toughness in her eyes that I never noticed before. An edge of something a little bit fierce. “Why not?”
Jesus Christ, she’s serious. “Did you miss that exchange back there?” I shout, seized with a sudden frustration as I point to the building behind us. “I’m trying to get out! And he’d rather burn my family to ash than see me walk away. Is that what you want for yourself?” I shake my head. “If so, you’re an idiot and you deserve everything you get for crawling into bed with him, knowing the consequences.”
I start walking down the dark street, toward my pre-arranged meeting point with Echo.
“So that’s a no?” she calls out to my retreating back.
I give Murphy the middle finger without turning around.
“Dammit,” I hear her mutter. “Wait!”
Murphy’s feet slap against the cement path as she chases after me. I don’t stop. She falls into step beside me like a pesky fly. “Can I see the list? Maybe I can help.”
“Sure. After I burn it. And then you can help me by staying the fuck away.”
She takes hold of my shoulder and forces me to a stop.
I throw up my hands. “Jesus! What?”
“Please.” Murphy holds my eyes, her jaw setting with determination. She suddenly seems older than I originally figured. Maybe a little harder too. “Let me help.”
Is Tony using her to watch me? I wouldn’t put it past him. I wouldn’t put anything past him. “Why are you so eager to get involved?”
“Because I’ve heard of you, Ace, yet you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I ask, not liking that she’s heard of me. I prefer to fly under the radar. It’s so much safer there.
Murphy shrugs. “Someone older. Someone with a little less…” she looks away and huffs “…heart.” Her gaze returns. “But you’re younger than I thought, and you seem like a good person.”
“I’m not really anything, Murphy.” A lump of remorse fills my throat. My past doesn’t make me a good person. There will always be a small amount of darkness in my soul, doing its best to compete with the light. “I’m just trying to live my life. It was nice meeting you, but I have to go.”
Chapter Four
Kelly
I tug at the tie choking my neck. Another week. Another high-end bar. Another lavish party. And another goddamn suit. Why can’t my brother and his friends throw a party like normal people? Whenever there’s some momentous occasion, it can’t be celebrated around a fire with a fuckin’ beer. No, that would be too relaxed and fun. Instead, it’s orchestrated into some colossal event that makes you lose the will to live.
This time it’s to celebrate our new car restoration business, Rehab. The name fits. We’ll be taking on broken cars and healing them, starting Monday. Contracts were drawn up and signed the day after my initial inspection. The rest of our time was spent equipping the workshop and office. I’ll be the one in charge full-time, and Romero and Casey part-time. When we start building a reputation and get busy, we’ll hire on mechanics. For now it’s just Romero and Casey, an office manager, and me. I’ll be eating, sleeping, and breathing Rehab, and I’m itching to get out of here and get started. I want to run my fingers over the gleaming new tools, do a last trial of the expensive hoists we installed, and read over the guide on the engine diagnostic tool pads.
Romero’s old lady, Mackenzie Valentine, materialises at my side, interrupting my thoughts. She’s wearing something that shimmers like the sun and dips to her navel, revealing massive tits. “Fuck me,” I say to them.
She’s holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a beer in the other. The beer is thrust in my face. “Eyes up here, asshead.”
I drag them upward and take the offered drink with no apology. “If you’re gonna put them out there …”
“It’s not intentional.” Her green eyes scan the room until they land on her old man. That’s where they stay. “These goddamn airbags won’t fit into anything else.”
I splutter into my beer.
“Shut up,” she mutters.
“Why didn’t you just buy something new? That’s what you bitches always do.”
“Bitches? Really?” Her gaze shoots to me, hardening. “Have you ever tried shopping with a baby? Fitting rooms in fancy stores aren’t designed for prams. Or boobs that leak milk twenty-four hours a day. I tried and just ended up dripping on to the carpet with a screaming baby in a pram that was wedged half in and half out of the door. Not to mention I’ve gone up a damn size in clothes. All the dresses I did manage to drag inside didn’t even—”
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaim, cutting her off. “Too much information, Valentine. Way too much.”
Mackenzie had a baby girl three months earlier. Gabriella Mary. They call her Satan. You would think it fitting for a newborn, but this baby is an absolute angel. Even I hadn’t minded her frequent visits to Rehab while the three of us were busy outfitting the workshop.
“Typical.” She snorts and sips her champagne.
“What’s typical?” My eyes drop to the fizzy alcohol in her glass. “And you’re not allowed to be drinking that.”
“You men. You can handle blood and guts and violence, but the second there’s mention of a leaking tit you run screaming like little girls. And who are you? The breastfeeding police?”
“Fuck off.” I down a mouthful of beer, highly offended. “I can handle anything. And maybe I should be considering you’re not supposed to be drinking alcohol and yet here you are.”
“You can handle almost anything,” she concedes, her eyes falling on Casey. He’s walking toward us. My shoulders stiffen as a tidal surge of anger rises. An automatic reaction to his presence. “And besides, I just expressed. That means I can have a drink if I choose. I just wanted to offer you a congratulatory kiss.” Mac leans in, rising on her toes to reach my cheek. Soft lips brush against my skin, and she whispers in my ear, “Play nice.”
Drawing away, she pats my cheek—hard—and walks off, leaving me to face my brother.
“Kelly,” he says with a nod.
“Casey,” I reply with a stiff voice.
He stands beside me, and we both stare out into the crowded bar. “How are you?”
“Good.” My hand tightens around my glass. “You?”
“I’m good too.”
“Glad we got that cleared up.”
My brother sighs. “We work together now. I think we should try to get along.”
“We’re partners in business. That doesn’t mean we have to be BFFs. Or hang out at parties.”
“Kelly …” he starts and then stops.
Fuck it all. He’s trying to be mature here, and my resentful attitude is making me feel like a dick. I want to listen to that small part of my conscience that’s telling me to grow the hell up, but my anger is so damn loud it drowns the voice out.
Casey tries again. “Are we all set for Monday?”
The anticipation of my first day at Rehab heats my blood. We have our first car being delivered at seven o’clock in the morning. Romero purchased it at auction with business funds. A ’69 Chevrolet Corvette in desperate need of restoration. After turning this car around, we’ll make a profit in the six figures. That’s if I can bear to part with it when the time comes.
“All set,” I reply.
His eyes gleam. My brother is just as excited about this beauty as I am.
“I’ll go over the Corvette with a fine-tooth comb first thing,” I tell him. “And make a list of everything we need. Some parts will take a bit to ship, but I’ll put a rush order on ’em. This girl’s restoration will get us good future business so I want her finished as soon as possible.”
Casey nods. “Agreed.” After sipping his beer, he adds, “I’ll be there on Monday to help take delivery. The spray booth should be arriving at some stage too, so we need to arrange the installation.”
Fox comes up from behind, wedging himself between the two of us. “Shop talk?” He’s slurring. He started on shots within the first five minutes of us arriving. I can’t blame him. It’s the only way to survive these parties. He puts an arm around both our shoulders, jostling the two of us. “Don’t be boring. Look over at the bar.”
Our eyes shift in that direction.
“Red dress,” he adds, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
I shake my head, looking away. I’m not in the mood. I have too much on my mind right now.
“Jesus, Daniels.” I’m jostled again. “The bar,” he says again, his words less slurred and a little more intent. “Red dress.”
I shrug him off, facing him with a glare. “I’m not in the fuckin’ mood, okay?”
Fox holds up his hands and starts stumbling backward toward the bar. “Your loss is my gain.” He slurs it with a pitying expression and then hiccups, ruining his little moment.
Arcadia
I have a vodka and soda sitting in front of me, untouched. I’m not here to party or drink. Or hook up. I’m here for a black 1968 Pontiac Firebird. The third lady on my list. She’s a wild beast, and resting in the heavily guarded parking lot of this bar. A parking lot only accessible through the back entrance. My thoughts are caught up in her when I’m bumped by someone wedging themselves into the small space beside me at the bar.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I glance to my left, seeing a suit without looking up. “No thanks.” My gaze returns to my glass. “I have one already.”
“You’d prefer something a little sweeter?” He leans in and I catch the scent of whiskey and spice. “Like a chocolate muffin perhaps?”
I turn my head, this time looking all the way up. I encounter a dark blond beard, a straight nose, and deep brown eyes that seem to see all my secrets. Jesus, it’s one of the guys from Fix. The one with the longer hair. If I didn’t realise it then, I’d know by the incessant buzzing of the phone in my purse. Echo is keeping tabs.
The adrenaline in my system revs its engine. Is Kelly here too? I turn my head further, scanning the crowd behind me quickly.
The suit beside me sighs in mock sadness. “Looking for someone?”
My gaze shoots back to him, and I realise I’m giving myself away just that easily. “No.”
“Kelly, maybe?”
My brows rise a fraction. “Who?”
He laughs. The sound is deep and rich. Infectious. My lips curve and he stares. “I like you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He holds out his hand. “I’m Luke Fox.”
My phone buzzes again. I ignore it and take his hand, shaking it. “Arcadia Jones.”
“Are you here with friends?”
“No,” I say without thinking and then grimace. It makes me appear sleazy— some lone girl at a bar wearing a slinky red dress. The outfit was necessary because it’s just that type of establishment. I wanted to fit in, not stand out.
“No?”
“I mean, I was,” I lie. “My friends left a moment ago. I’m just finishing up my drink, and then I’ll be leaving too.”
He looks at my full glass. “You don’t seem to be in a hurry.”
I pick it up, taking a huge gulp. The vodka is strong and burns my throat, even with the addition of soda.
Luke frowns. “And now you are. You know I did shower before coming out tonight.”
“You smell good,” I reassure him.
He grins. “For the record, I smell good everywhere.”
Laughter escapes me. Luke Fox is a flirt. He signals the bartender. I catch a glimpse of tattoos on his wrist. A reminder that he’s a paradox, like his friends. “What are you drinking?” he asks me. “I’ll buy you another.”
“I’m good. Seriously, I’m leaving soon.”
Luke steals my drink, taking a sip as the bartender reaches us. “Two vodka sodas,” he tells him then turns to face me while our drinks are being made. “You can’t leave me to drink alone.”
“You’re a big boy,” I say, because he literally is. “You can handle it.”
“You know I’m big everywhere too.”
I laugh again, shaking my head.
“What? I am.” I laugh harder, and his bottom lip pokes out just a little. “Am I just a joke to you? I might be big, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”
“I’m sorry.” I pick up my drink so I have something to do with my hands. This guy has game. He’s like a tsunami. If I don’t take a figurative step back, I’ll drown. “I’m not laughing at your size.”
“Then what’s so funny?”
His eyes flicker with amusement so I know he’s joking with me. “You flirting with me.”
“Am I bad at it?”
“No! No, not at all,” I
protest, sipping again at my drink. “You’re good at it.”
“You know, I’m good at—”
“Wait, let me guess! You’re good at everything, right?”
“You’re a smart girl.” Luke’s eyes travel down my dress and back up. The material is tight and sparkly, dipping low in the front and in the back. It makes me feel like someone else. Someone feminine and sexy, something I’m ordinarily not.
“Smart enough to know I should be leaving soon.”
“Come on. I’m selling myself hard here.” His winks over the rim of his glass as he downs half the contents in one go. “It’s not working?”
“It’s …” I pause as he removes the empty glass in my hand and adds the new one. I drank all that? “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Only if you want to be.”
“I don’t. I—” I need to be sober. I need that Firebird. I need … I turn my head again and my eyes find him in the crowd. Kelly. He’s standing with a group of people, drink in hand. Someone is talking to him, but he’s paying no attention. Instead he’s staring right at me. Goose bumps rise across my skin, at odds with the heat catching hold of me, as if I’m burning alive from the inside out. I touch a hand to my cheek. It’s chilled from the ice in my glass. I’m surprised the contact doesn’t generate a hiss of steam.
“I … what?” Luke prompts.
Kelly’s eyes are intense. They peel away my dress, leaving me exposed and breathless. I lift the glass to my lips, feeling a sudden powerful thirst. He watches me as I drink the vodka down. I have to drag my eyes away and back to Luke.
“I …”
“You …”
I’ve lost my wits. I set my drink down on the bar and grab my purse, standing. “I have to go.”
He snags my wrist and I pause. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Which is a lie because my head is spinning, caught in a vortex of vodka and Kelly. “Why?”
“Because one minute you were here with me and the next you were gone.”