I Stole His Car (Love at First Crime Book 1)

by Jessica Frances

  It was awful. I think I spent that entire conversation beet red.

  Then, a few days later, Van asked Zander in private if we were having sex. He had been learning some things about it at school. Van had meant the question in general, since we slept in the same room, but Zander thought he was talking about the night of lies. Consequently, he came clean since he didn’t want to scar Van, and ended up scarring him anyway because he then had confirmation that he heard us “oldies” having sex.

  It has been an awkward few weeks ever since, and Zander and I have been too terrified to do anything with each other with Van home. I won’t even allow it when Van’s asleep. Therefore, for the past month, I have been visiting Zander in his new office so we don’t have to abstain from sex completely.

  We have christened his desk, his chair, his couch, each wall, and as of a few nights ago, his personal bathroom. It got to the point where I couldn’t walk into his office without my body reacting since I started associating the space with sex. Zander was the same.

  I think I nearly killed him when I walked into his office right in the middle of a meeting. I was just dropping something off for him like he had asked, but I left him with more than I brought with me. He had a hard-on for rest of the meeting. He told me later that he couldn’t even stand up to see his new client out.

  Hence, while Van brought up our anniversary with one unsavory thought in mind, I can’t help remembering that we already celebrated our “anniversary” just a few nights ago. That was when we broke in his personal bathroom.

  I feel a warm flush as I let those memories wander through my mind briefly before I quickly box them away. This is so not the time to be recalling those toe-curling moments.

  We decided to make our anniversary the day of our first kiss, which also happened to be the night we first had sex. Hence, the bathroom sex. We decided to make it a tradition and do that every year. Not that we haven’t had loads of bathroom sex in the meantime. I don’t know why, but it’s like our special place.

  As to what this celebration could be about, I don’t really know.

  “It’s not an anniversary thing,” Zander growls, messing up Van’s hair before he can duck out of the way. “I found us a new place to live.”

  “We’re moving?” I gasp, not even aware he was looking, let alone close to finding somewhere.

  “Yep.”

  “Is my room bigger?” Van rushes to ask, clearly his main concern.

  “It sure is. Twice as big as what you have now,” he tells him, and Van whoops loudly, running around the apartment with the energy only a kid could have at the end of the day.

  I watch him race around, not sure how I feel about being left out of this discussion. Then again, I have just been living here and putting money in when I can. I pay for some groceries, and perhaps a few things I got for around the place to soften it up a little. We never talked about money before because it’s never been important to either of us.

  What if, by not having that talk, by not paying half the rent, I forfeited my rights for any future involvement in things like this? Do I even have the right to feel annoyed by this? Haven’t I given him this assumption by not bringing it up before now?

  Zander wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his front. I think he is leaning down for a kiss, but he drifts to my side instead and moves his lips to my ear, sending shivers from the way his breath caresses me. “We will have our own personal bathroom, and our bedroom is down the hall from Van. Plus, I asked the contractor to soundproof it.”

  We will be able to have sex in our own bed! We don’t have to leave the house to do it! That right there is a godsend.

  Nevertheless, my other thoughts weigh heavily on me.

  “You’re not happy?” he finally asks when I have clearly been quiet for too long.

  “I am …” I say carefully, aware that Zander’s huge grin has just fallen.

  “But …?” he encourages.

  “I didn’t even know you were looking for a place,” I point out.

  “It’s a surprise!”

  “But, don’t couples usually talk about this stuff?” I push, still feeling unsure about all this.

  “What’s there to talk about? It has four bedrooms. We can share an office, one that is big enough to easily fit us both. It means you have your own space, but I can also work from home more often, too. The other room can be a spare bedroom, so if we have any guests over, they can actually stay with us. The kitchen is brand new. There is a walk-in closet in the main bedroom big enough to easily fit all of our stuff. It’s closer to Van’s school and close to my new office. And did I mention we have our own personal bathroom with a large shower and bench where I can sit you down and—”

  “Zander!” I snap at him, mindful that Van is beginning to lose steam and is edging closer to us now.

  “You are going to love this,” he assures me, squeezing his arms around me briefly as his smile returns in full force.

  “How much is it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll pay half. Whatever it is,” I promise, doing a quick mental assessment over my bank account. How much would I even be able to afford before I used up all my savings? I need to get back into doing temp work.

  “Why?” Annoyance tinges his voice.

  “Because, that is also what couples do!”

  “Babe …” he sighs, cupping my face. “Are you concerned about money? Because, you know I make a shitload, right? I have plenty from my parents’ life insurance payout, plus what Van and I were left. We’re not going to be struggling for money.”

  “I’m not concerned about that, not really. I’m just saying that it’s time I start pulling my weight.” I nod to myself after saying this, wishing I had come to this conclusion earlier.

  “Why? Why now? Why with this? I’m not asking for that.” He frowns.

  “But that isn’t fair on you. It isn’t equal, and a relationship should be equal.”

  He gives a little growl now, dropping his hands from me as he puts space between us. “What is this sudden need for everything to be equal? Where is the rule book where that is written in stone?”

  “It isn’t in a rule book. It’s just that this is what should happen if we don’t want money to get in the middle of things,” I snap irritably.

  “It’s not getting into the middle of things. In an entire year, this is the first time we’ve even talked about it.”

  “Exactly. And you suddenly think it’s perfectly fine to cut me out of an important decision because you don’t have to think about me and money,” I snap, trying to force a calming breath into me so this doesn’t deteriorate into an argument.

  “I’m getting confused,” he finally mutters, irritation taking over his own features, no doubt matching mine, as he now takes another step backward, placing more distance between us.

  “Oh geeze, I know what this is. You’re about to have a fight. If I go to Jeb’s early, will you promise to save me some pizza for tomorrow?” Van asks, breaking through the tension for a moment.

  “We’re not fighting. We’re discussing,” I explain quickly.

  “We’re not discussing anything. You’re making up excuses for this to not be perfect. We should be celebrating right now,” Zander contradicts me.

  “Oh, so this is just some made up fight that I’m bringing up without any reason to be angry?” I snap.

  “So, you’re angry now?”

  “Yep, definitely getting out of here,” Van mumbles as he types away on his cell phone.

  “Vaughn, go to your room!” Zander snaps.

  “Don’t snap at him. Van hasn’t done anything to deserve to be sent to his room,” I argue right back.

  “You’re right; you’re the one being ridiculous. You go to your room!” Zander retorts, and my eyes widen before they quickly narrow.

  “I know nothing about girls, and even I know that was dumb,” Van mumbles, taking himself into his room and closing the door behind him.

/>   With my hands on my hips, I take a threatening step toward Zander. “So, I’m a child now? I’m just here for you to boss me around?”

  “No—”

  “Because I’m getting sick of you bossing me around. I get that you’re the boss at work and in charge of everyone, but in here, we’re equal.”

  “There’s that word again.” He throws his hands up, his frustration obvious. “Equal doesn’t mean we’re the exact same in every way. I’m bossy, so what? You usually like that about me. Should I expect you to join me at the gym so we can do the exact same workout every morning?”

  “Now you’re making fun of me? What the hell is wrong with you?” I cry, my breath shaky when I try to force another calming gulp of air inside me.

  “Wrong with me? I just gave you news that any normal person would jump in my arms, kiss me, and yell in excitement about, and you’re looking at me like I’ve just killed a puppy,” Zander growls, his body growing tenser until I wonder if the vein in his forehead might be at risk of popping through his skin.

  “I’m not looking at you like that!” I deny. Am I?

  “Well, I’ve clearly killed something.” He shakes his head at me. I hate how dismissive he is being.

  “Don’t be an asshole. All I’m saying is, I would have liked to be included in such a huge decision. Are you saying you wouldn’t care if I came home and told you I bought you a brand-new car?”

  His face blanches, and I know I won that point. Zander is still obsessed with his car. It’s like the “other woman” in our relationship. He washes it every Saturday morning. Every. Single. Saturday. And I’m not so sure it isn’t more him caressing it under the guise of washing it. That isn’t normal, right? Who does that? Just leave it out in the rain if it’s dirty. We live in Chicago; it’s not like the weather is so bright and sunny that rain doesn’t happen all the freaking time!

  “That is not at all the same thing,” he splutters.

  “It is, so admit it.”

  As the buzzer at the wall goes off, we both glare at each other, willing the other to break our now staring contest to see who it is.

  “I’m out of here. See you tomorrow,” Van says, walking through us and forcing us both to break eye contact at the same time.

  “Wait, where are you going?” Zander demands, his ire moving from me to Van.

  “To Jeb’s. Don’t forget to save me some pizza, if you ever stop arguing to order any.”

  Before either of us can say another word, Van shuts the door.

  “Damn kid,” Zander mutters, moving over to the window to glance down at the door down below. He obviously is okay with what he sees, which is likely Jeb and his father, so he turns back around to me. “Great,” he sarcastically retorts. “Van can’t even stand to be around us! Fantastic celebration!”

  “Oh, and this is my fault? Do you want me to just shut up and ignore any feelings I have? Do you want some dutiful girlfriend who just smiles at your every word? Is that what you want to teach Van to want?”

  “What the hell, woman? How did me giving you a surprise turn into this?”

  “Because it was an incredibly generous surprise, but you also made it clear that you don’t need my opinion. And for some stupid reason, that hurts,” I snap, grabbing my keys from the table by the door. “I need to cool off,” I say as I slam the door shut.

  When I make it to our underground parking garage, though, I realize I took Zander’s keys instead of my own.

  I glance down at the keys, and then over to his car. A naughty thought occurs to me as I unlock it and quickly get in.

  I haven’t driven his car since the night I stole it, and it’s probably wrong of me to do it now, but fuck him. If I really want to let loose and cool down, then this is the car to do it in.

  I take off, leaving my foot on the accelerator a little longer than necessary and hoping I get a ticket somewhere just to piss him off.

  It takes him ten minutes to realize I’m driving his car.

  When he calls me, I pull over to answer the phone, though his voice comes through the speakers.

  “Yes, dear?” I make sure my voice is sugary sweet.

  “You stole my car,” he blandly accuses.

  “Yep.”

  “I could have you arrested.” His voice sounds calm, but perhaps more annoyed than angry.

  “You could. But I have to wonder, with how easy you make it, if you don’t want your car stolen.”

  He sputters at my insult. “You’re my girlfriend! I have to hide my keys from you now?”

  “Just a question. Did this car have that scratch along the side when you left it last?” I smirk cruelly, waiting for his predictable outburst.

  Zander gasps deeply, and I know I’m now just being mean. Bitchy and mean.

  “You wouldn’t …” he squeaks.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” I quickly give in, kicking myself for being this way. Am I an adult or am I Van’s age? “I … I don’t know why we’re fighting. I think I let this get out of hand.”

  I have never been like this. Am I just making a big deal out of nothing? I should be happy, shouldn’t I? We did need a new apartment. The one we are in now is just way too small. The office is unworkable, the shared bathroom a nuisance, and there isn’t enough room for all our stuff in our bedroom. We have two suitcases out in the living room where we place the clothes that are no longer in season so we can fit our other things in the closet.

  Zander is a neat freak, and it is impossible to keep things tidy with three of us there.

  “No, I think this is my fault. You stealing my car is your fault, but the rest is on me.”

  “It’s just a car, Zander.” I sigh, tapping the wheel as I wonder what it is he loves so much about this car.

  “It’s my baby.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “You’re my babe. Definitely a step up from baby,” he rushes to soothe my bruised ego.

  “Just a step?”

  “More than a step. A whole staircase up from baby,” he quickly adjusts.

  I sigh again, relaxing into the seat. “How come we’ve never had sex in here before?”

  “You want to have sex in my car?” he gasps. I can’t tell if he is horrified or turned on by that idea.

  “I just think it’s weird that we never have. We have sex everywhere else; why not your car?”

  “Babe, I don’t know how we got onto this discussion, but if your plan is to make it so we can no longer be decent in public, then you’re succeeding.”

  I smile a little at this, yet my mind feels scattered, my thoughts unable to stick to anything. I’m distracted, and I don’t like that I still feel hurt.

  “Come back home, please?”

  “I’m not sure I’ve cooled down enough for that. I don’t like us fighting,” I admit.

  “Then give me an hour and meet me at the address of our new place. Tell me your opinion on it.”

  “You wouldn’t have announced we have a new apartment if you hadn’t signed whatever you need to for it. You don’t need my opinion,” I point out, staring unseeingly out the side window, watching traffic pass me by.

  “I can get out of it if you hate it. I should have asked you before. I was just excited and … well, I thought it would make a nice surprise.”

  Tears well in my eyes at just hearing this, my anger completely deflated now.

  “Okay.”

  “Babe, are you crying? Pull over if you’re still driving. It’s not safe.”

  “I’m already pulled over,” I promise him, wiping at my eyes and blinking in the hopes of erasing any trace of my tears or encouraging more to follow.

  “Good. I’m sorry,” he grumbles. “I don’t want you crying. I don’t want you upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” I say through my tears that betray my wishes as they rush down my cheeks. “Just send me the address.”

  “I will. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “One hour,” he confirms, his worry cl
ear in those two words.

  “One hour,” I agree before he hangs up.

  I take several breaths and then drive around aimlessly, enjoying the mundaneness of it as I let my thoughts slowly filter through my mind.

  I don’t think I’m out of line, but I do think I helped our fight escalate to ridiculous heights. I hold plenty of blame in that.

  Zander and I rarely fight. When we have a disagreement, we usually say a few words, one of us will leave the room to cool down, and then we are fine. I have never stormed out before, and we have never been mean about it.

  What does Van think of all this?

  I send him a quick text message, apologizing, and since kids live on their phones these days, he replies almost instantly, reminding me to save him some pizza.

  Van’s definitely not a mushy type of person.

  Under his message, I see one from the district attorney Zander is friends with. He let us know just yesterday that the last plea bargain was reached. Thirty-eight men were arrested over the abuse and murder of the countless women, along with many more arrested for aiding and abetting the men, one of those being Ken, who was already done for kidnapping and attempted murder.

  With all the arrest warrants they got, more videos were seized, which led to more victims and perpetrators being discovered. It meant I avoided having to testify in front of jurors, and no one will be getting out on parole until they are easily senior citizen age, if they are lucky.

  Receiving that message was another life changing moment for me. That horror in my life could finally close, and even though I still get the odd nightmare, I mostly have put it behind me.

  Brian might not have lost his dick, unfortunately, but he won’t ever be a free man.

  I drive around a little longer, letting my mind wander, and then, with ten minutes to spare, I drive to the location Zander sends me in a text.

  It is in a much nicer part of town, and the building is huge, at least fifty stories high. I don’t know how much rent Zander is paying for this place, or if he’s bought it and has a mortgage, but whatever the payments are, there is no way I can afford half.

  I find a place to park down the block and walk my way back to the building. By the time I reach the front door, Zander is there, waiting for me.