Mustang Summer (The Walker Five Book 2)

by Marie Johnston

  “Brock!” Cash’s shout turned a lot of his relatives’ heads. Brock ignored all of them.

  Dillon stepped away, his gaze leaping back and forth between Brock and Cash charging through the yard. “Everything okay?” he called.

  “Fine.” Brock snapped his jaw shut. He didn’t want to talk about it and he wanted to respect his mom’s wishes. Both goals aligned; he stormed to his pickup.

  The melee in the yard fell silent. Brock had parked in an unfortunate spot in full view of everyone.

  His mom broke away and rushed toward him. “Brock? What happened?”

  His gaze swept the group that followed his mom.

  “Just Cash being Cash,” he muttered.

  By now, all of Brock’s aunts and uncles and cousins surrounded the vehicle. Normally, his large, close-knit family was a comfort, a place where he could be himself with few questions asked. But it’d all come at a cost. It cost his mom, it spilled onto his dad, and Josie was going to pay for all those years of secrecy. His girl had done nothing to earn their disrespect. Her brother had and he was serving time for it. All Josie did was support him and help Brock out with a car. All at a cost to herself.

  Cash stopped a few yards away. “It’s nothing, Aunt Nancy. Just a disagreement between us.”

  “Is it?” The dam holding back Brock’s silence broke. “Because I don’t think it’s between us. I think it’s between all of you and my parents, and you’re all going to hold it against Josie.”

  “I’m sorry?” Brock’s dad stepped forward. “What does your girlfriend have to do with us?”

  His mom’s face paled and she edged to his dad’s side.

  “All those trips to Fargo were for therapy for my fucked-up brain, not because Mom wanted to get away from the farm. Those toys she bought me? They were to bribe me to sit through the sessions each week. I didn’t like the appointments. They hurt my head.”

  Brock swallowed and forced himself to look at everyone. All eyes were on him, including his parents’. Horses nickered in the distance and birds chirped all over the yard. Everything sounded cheerful, much different from how Brock felt. And he’d learned enough about himself to know Josie’s departure had affected him.

  “Why would you need therapy, Brock?” Cash’s quiet question must be what was on everyone’s mind.

  “I’m autistic,” Brock answered.

  “Brock,” his mom hissed, the shock so obvious in her tone that even he could detect it.

  “What, Mom? They already treat me different. Now they know why.” He spun and climbed into his truck. His family backed up and he sped off.

  Arriving at his place, he parked in front of his barn. He wanted, needed, to work on his cars. More specifically, the car he and Josie had brought home. It’d make him feel closer to her and if his dad wasn’t angry with him, they could work without talking about anything other than grease and bearings for hours.

  Brock’s plans were dashed, because a convoy of Walkers approached, his parents in the lead. Brock scowled and stomped to the side door of the barn. He’d said his piece and had no wish to say more.

  He shoved the door open and froze, his hands still planted on the door.

  The spot his Shelby had been parked in now sat empty.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brock stared at the empty spot in his barn, his stomach rising into his throat until a strangled sound escaped.

  His parents rushed toward him, but Cash beat them. He skidded to a stop next to him.

  “Where’s the car?” his dad asked.

  “Dude,” Cash stepped around him. His blue eyes were bright with shock in the dim barn. “Did it get stolen?”

  “What’s going on?” His mom crowded behind them.

  “Good God.” His dad pushed past them into the barn and opened the large front door.

  Brock stumbled to the open space and stared at the floor, like if he thought hard enough he could remember where he last put the car. His mind reeled. Had he parked it somewhere else and not remembered? It didn’t seem possible that it was just gone.

  “Wha—” Dillon entered the barn. “Did a car get stolen?”

  “Not just any car,” his dad grumbled.

  “Look, Brock, I don’t want to upset you…” Cash started.

  Brock dropped his chin to his chest, his gaze cemented on the packed dirt floor. He’d confessed his disorder not five minutes ago and they were already treating him different. Mom was right.

  “And I’m really sorry, Aunt Nancy, that I assumed you were miserable and spending money frivolously,” Cash continued, “but don’t get mad at me. Brock, do you think your girl was behind this?”

  “Can’t be,” Brock said. How could Josie get close to him and then do something like this?

  “Can’t she?” Dillon argued. “You caught her in here scoping out your collection.”

  “But she helped me get the Shelby. Mr. Blackwell offered it to her first.”

  “She would’ve had to buy it from him, though,” Dillon pointed out. “For how much?”

  Brock squeezed his eyes shut. It couldn’t be her. “Thirty-five thousand.”

  His dad broke in. “Once finished the Shelby could be worth well over hundred thousand, easy. Hell, it’d be worth that without her having to even wash it.”

  “Did she know…I mean…did you tell her about your autism—” Cash skimmed his fingers along the brim of his hat, his brows pinched. “Fuck, you didn’t tell us. Why would you tell her.”

  “She asked about it.” Brock avoided looking at all of them and glued his gaze on his dusty boots. She’d asked. She’d known and offered to help him talk to Mr. Blackwell.

  He’d just outed his mother to protect Josie. Had she just used him?

  His mind spun over the details. He’d found her in his barn. He’d found evidence she’d tried to sneak into his building when her brother was vandalizing Dillon’s place. Then she’d seen him at Blackwell’s. And she had time to think on it after Blackwell offered her the car.

  “I’ve got to call her.” He withdrew his phone and punched in her number with his whole family watching him.

  It rang and rang.

  He swore and hit end. Tried again. No answer. Again. No answer. “Maybe I should drive up there.”

  Aaron shook his head. “If you do, you can’t go alone. You don’t know who she had working with her.”

  “We’re calling the cops first.” Dillon had his phone in his hand.

  “No,” Brock barked. “She’s my problem. I’m going to deal with this.”

  “Might I point out—” his mom lightly grasped his elbow, “—that you don’t know what happened yet. Either report the car stolen, or get answers from Josie first.”

  His mom’s calming voice reoriented his thoughts. She was right. He didn’t know if Josie was involved, but a crime had been committed.

  He waved off Dillon and called Max himself. It seemed like they had the deputy on speed dial these days.

  After briefing Max on the theft, he hung up and spoke to his mass of relatives. “You guys can take off. I’ll handle this.”

  Rounds of arguments began, but Brock cut a hand through the air. “If you weren’t around holding Dillon’s hand through the vandalism and arson, then don’t pamper me.”

  “We’re just watching out for you,” Cash said.

  Brock nodded. “You’ve done that my whole life, but you don’t need to. Mom spent a lot of time and money so I could learn to live life without freaking out.”

  Brock’s dad threw an arm over his mom’s shoulders. “Leave it to Brock, guys. Any questions can wait until he has answers.”

  They all meandered out, offering Brock their support. Soon, he was left alone to wonder if he’d done the right thing. Josie proved that while he could adult all on his own, he didn’t make the best decisions.

  ***

  Josie arched her back and stretched her hands toward the ceiling. She’d put in several hours finishing her projects, but she got paid wh
en they were finished. And when they were finished, she could work on her website and find some free marketing advice to launch her online business.

  She brought up her clients’ emails, including Travis’s, and went to upload her work.

  A lost internet connection message flashed. She frowned.

  What the hell? She’d just been using it.

  Trying again, she had to hold herself back from pounding the keys on her laptop.

  Nothing. She restarted her computer, but nothing changed.

  Damn.

  Doors opened and closed downstairs and she heard men’s voices. Had Bill and whoever he was talking to bumped something?

  Grabbing her phone as she left the room, she checked the screen. Three missed calls from Brock. That was the drawback of turning the sound off so she could work uninterrupted. She’d call him back after she got her work uploaded.

  Bill was at the bottom of the stairs. Gage hovered behind him. Her mouth curled into a near snarl.

  She trounced down the stairs. “Hey, Bill. Is something wrong with the internet?”

  “Josephina, we need to talk.”

  She slowed her descent and deftly stepped off the last stair to face him. His tone wasn’t one she’d heard since he’d called from the hospital after her mom had collapsed.

  Her gaze rose to meet Gage’s incensed one. Her breath got sucked out of her chest.

  Oh shit. That had been Gage in Moore. Even worse, the day she’d left Mr. Blackwell’s farm with Brock and the Shelby, she hadn’t been crazy. That had been Gage’s shitty truck she’d spotted. Had he seen her in Brock’s truck? From the thunderous look on Bill’s face, yes, Gage had seen her and tattled.

  “What were you doing in Moore besides visiting your brother?” Bill demanded.

  She fisted her hands on her hips because she was a damn adult and what she did in Moore was her business. “I’m seeing someone.”

  “Are you serious?” Gage sputtered. “Are you dating a Walker? You’re not only seeing the people that put your brother away, but you let the car slip out of your hands for him.”

  “Tell me that’s not true.” Bill’s voice shook with livid disbelief.

  She hadn’t let the car slip away, she’d shoved it hard in a different direction. “Mr. Blackwell sold the car to Brock, yes. And yes, I knew that.” Refusing to drop her gaze, she stared down her dad. “You did not steal that car, did you?”

  “It’s none of your damn business,” Bill shouted, his face red with anger—and something else. Anxiety?

  Gage grunted and stared her down. “I knew that was your red Mustang in Moore. There shouldn’t have been a way to connect the theft to us, but since you’re hanging around the Walkers and your loser brother set their place on fire, the first person they’re going to look at is you.”

  “But you stole it anyway?” He had to have seen her before he lifted the Shelby. She had been visiting her brother, and Gage had waited until Brock was gone to grab the trailer. All the guys had been at Travis’s house. He lived at the dead end past Brock’s place. They’d have never seen Gage going in or out. Even if they had, Gage had probably been savvy enough to use a covered trailer to conceal the Shelby.

  Bill threw his hands up. “We need to pay Don Milton back in two months, Jo. That car is our paycheck. Gimme your phone.”

  She hugged it to her chest. “What? Why?”

  “So you can’t answer the damn thing when your boyfriend calls and asks where his car went.”

  Three missed calls. Why’d she have to silence it? Her eyes wide, she gripped her phone like a lifeline. “Did you unhook the internet, too?”

  Bill’s stolid gaze stayed on her as if, duh, of course he had.

  “I’m twenty-six. You can’t take away my electronics.”

  Gage snorted and she glared at him.

  “He can when he pays for everything. Right, Bill?” Gage asked.

  Bill glanced at Gage, then held his hand out and wiggled his chubby fingers. “You cost the company, Jo, and you cost us. The house doesn’t pay for itself, the cable isn’t free, and your stupid phone could ruin this plan.”

  “I can just tell him it wasn’t me,” she argued, transported to her sixteen-year-old self when Bill had cornered her and said no more mechanic job, that she was resigned to bookwork. Then at eighteen when he’d told her what she was majoring in because he was paying her tuition.

  “But you’re linked to him and that car. He’s going to call the police and because of your brother, they’ll look here first.”

  “Won’t it look more suspicious if I don’t answer?”

  Gage smirked. “It’ll look like you’re not interested anymore. Chicks do it all the time.”

  “I don’t.” Brock would either think she was involved, or that she’d picked a deplorable way to break up with him.

  How could she have left herself in a position where he had so much control? Let the garage take care of the car insurance. Let the garage take care of the phone bill. Work for the garage. It’s our bread and butter, might as well let it take care of you. He’d always held all the financial cards and if he’d cut her off, she’d have been no better off than Jesse.

  Her hand shook as she handed over the phone. There were other ways to contact Brock; she’d figure it out.

  And do what? Tell him it wasn’t her and risk Bill getting caught and thrown in jail? It was one thing to pass on the offer of the Shelby and risk the business, but another to lose her dad. If she turned him in, Milton would still be out some major currency and he’d expect to get paid. Would he come calling on her or Gage?

  Her instincts said both, and Gage could worry about himself, but he’d sell her out before he let anything befall him.

  Bill shoved the phone in his pocket, his expression grim. It was the same one she remembered as a teenager, the one that said, I’m sorry I have to do this, but it’s for your own good. “I don’t want you helping us with this.”

  As if she would assist Bill in stealing not just from Brock, but from the Walkers.

  “You can’t have your hands dirty.” He spoke fast, like the urgency of the situation was fully dawning on him. “We have to flip this thing fast and get it out of here. It’s only a matter of time before the police come. Changing the VIN won’t do any good. They’re going to find it too much of a coincidence we have a ’68 Shelby GT500 with no purchase papers. I’m going to find another chop shop to run it through. You’ll stay with Gage until I take care of this mess.”

  He pivoted on his heel and walked away, fully expecting her to do his bidding.

  “Stay with Gage?” The other man’s smug look made her arm twitch to punch him. “This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. I don’t need to be under a man’s watchful eye.”

  Her dad kept walking and she stormed after him. Gage yanked her to a stop. She tried shaking him off, but couldn’t. His hands dug into her upper arms.

  Bill paused before he left the house. “Don Milton doesn’t care what fucking year it is. I need to know you’re safe, and I need to know you’re not going to do anything impulsive like calling your boyfriend or your brother. Just lay low until I come back.”

  She raised her foot to stomp on Gage, but he jerked her until her teeth clattered.

  “Stop it, Jo,” Gage said. “Be smart about this or you’re going to end up in jail with your dad and brother.”

  Just Bill and her brother? “And what about you?”

  “I’ll take care of myself.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  Irritation flickered across his face. “An asshole you’re going to watch movies with because he’s protecting you. Sit down.”

  She had a babysitter and no way to speak with Brock. It was growing dark outside. What else could she do? If she took off, she didn’t think she could outrun Gage. And if she made it to a gas station, then what? Expect a Good Samaritan to lend her their phone? Then what could she tell Brock that wouldn’t destroy her own family? Getting him to believe that she wa
sn’t involved felt impossible, but his family, too?

  What a fucking mess. She longed to go crying to Jesse and have him fix it like always, but that option was cut off.

  With tears of frustration burning, she plopped into Bill’s recliner to think. Her family was important to her. Brock was important to her. His family was important to him. If they thought she was guilty as hell, she’d lose Brock. Her family… At least Jesse was locked away this time, completely innocent. Bill would only get more desperate to save her and himself. To salvage Brock and the car, she needed to find the car first before it got chopped or altered beyond recognition.

  She eyed her ex furtively as he reclined on the couch. He was so damn arrogant, he’d tell her everything just to prove how smart he was. Even if she lost Brock’s trust, at least she could spare the Shelby.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” The female deputy, Farah, shook her head. “I heard about the theft and your girlfriend. You shouldn’t be here.

  “I just want to talk.” Brock had gone to school with the petite blonde. She’d been tough as nails back then and if she decided he shouldn’t talk to Jesse, he was in trouble. Two days had passed with no answers on his car or from Josie. Brock didn’t know if he should be furious or concerned. His family would say furious, but he couldn’t quite get there. Was it because of his autism, or because he had a reason to worry? “You can be in there with me, but I have to talk with him.”

  Max reported his attempts to contact Josie had failed, also. That seemed out of character for Josie, but maybe Brock wasn’t a good judge of character. He’d bugged Max and the deputy said he was coordinating with Waite Park’s PD, but it “takes time.”

  Waiting was out of the question.

  Farah contemplated his request for a moment. “Fine. I’ll be in there with you, but you so much as raise your voice and I’m kicking your ass out. I know, it sounds odd, but I’m in charge of the prisoners. They can get in trouble by themselves, I’m not handing them even more.”

  Brock dipped his head. “Thank you.”

  Farah led him to a small room with nothing but a folding table and two chairs. He sat and shortly after, Farah led Jesse in.