by Dallas Cole
“Come here, Lennox. Let’s you and I talk.”
Rory’s the last person on the planet I’d talk to for fun. All the weird little things he says when he’s escorting me on our runs . . . the way he treats every woman he comes across like his personal property. And that fucking temper of his. But it does make me terrified enough not to want to find out the cost of telling him no. I let him sling his arm over my shoulder and steer me to the couch.
“I got a new job for you,” Rory says, as we sit down.
I sigh. Of course he does. “Another shuttle run to Taos? No problem.”
“Nuh-uh,” Rory says. “We’re going to be doing something a little different this time.”
The hairs rise on the back of my neck. This sounds like they’re trying to push me deeper into their web—make me more complicit in their schemes. I want to be getting out of this life, not deeper in. Especially now that I’m responsible for Elena.
But I need the money for now. And I also need the protection from Nash.
“This time, we’re heading to Reno,” Rory says. “And we’ll be taking a whole lot more with us than before.”
I furrow my brow. “More stuff? But the Nissan can only hold so much. It’s the best car for our work because it’s unobtrusive. If you want something bigger, you’re going to attract a lot of attention.” I shift my weight. “Vans get stopped all the time.”
“Well, we’re going to have to use a van. So you’d better up your police evasion skills.”
“Wait.” My heart sinks. “You said Reno. But that’s across state lines.”
“And?”
“The conditions of my parole—I’m not supposed to leave the state. Besides, anytime you’re doing something . . . well, you know. Doing it across state lines makes the repercussions even worse.”
“You’re the best driver we’ve got.” Rory narrows his eyes. “All these other meatheads try to show off. But you’re sensible. You play it cool.”
It’s a load of shit, though, and I know it. He wants to test me, and bind me even closer to the McManuses. Keep me forever in their debt. “If my parole officer finds out I’ve left the state—”
“Aww, you’re afraid of the parole officer?” Rory laughs, a manic glint in his eye. “Come the fuck on. You think we can’t buy off some underpaid dumbass in the corrections system?”
The scary thing is, I know full well they can. If the McManuses really did throw the election against Cartwright, there isn’t much they can’t do. Except maybe get me out of my debt to Cartwright. But maybe, if I stick with them long enough, I can pay that off, too.
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “We’ll use a van and cross state lines. What’s the cargo?”
“Not what.” Rory laughs to himself. “Who.”
Bile singes at the back of my throat. Oh, god. I don’t even want to know.
Rory leans toward me and claps a hand on my knee. His touch is like poison. I don’t want him anywhere near me. But I have to do this. It’s my only shot. “C’mon, Lennox. If you’re going to be our partner—a real member of the family—then you need to know just what it is we do. None of this baby talk bullshit. You’ve got to be complicit.”
Being complicit to their illegal dealings is the last thing I want. Especially if this is what I’m afraid it is . . .
“These girls, Len . . . they just need some honest work. They’ve had a rough life, and we’re happy to provide them with an opportunity to find their feet. Well . . . eventually they’ll find their feet.” He smirks. “After they spend some time on their backs.”
I want to throw up. They’re human traffickers. Exploiting the weakness of homeless women, or drug addicts, women desperate for any source of income—
No. Not women. “You said girls.”
Rory’s smile is thin as razor wire. “Age is just a number. They know what they’re about.”
Probably runaways, then. Teenage girls, and Rory wants to smuggle them to Reno to whore them out. I stand up from the couch, and stagger backward. “No. I—I can’t do that. Whether they’re ‘willing’ or not—”
Mama clears her throat.
We both turn to look at her. A ribbon of smoke trails out of her lips toward the ceiling. Her eyes are narrowed to little green dots as she looks at me. “Lennox.”
“Yes, ma’am?” God, it feels disgusting to treat her with the same level of respect I show women like Grams. But I have no choice.
“Remember what I said earlier about Drazic’s crew? And how they owe me?”
A trickle of sweat runs down between my shoulder blades. “Yes.”
“Drazic’s got that hot little niece, doesn’t he? Elena, I think it is.”
My throat feels closed up like she’s squeezing it. No. No. I can’t get Elena involved in this. But Mama already knows. There’s no point in lying. “Yes,” I manage to say. My voice sounds squeaky and frayed.
“She would sure be one way that Drazic could pay his debts. Workin’ for me, same as these girls will. Or perhaps I can find some other use for her.” Mama watches me, unblinking. “It’d be real easy to scoop her up. She’s not even staying with her uncle anymore, I hear.”
Every instinct in me is screaming at me to pounce on her. Beat the shit out of that smug look on her face—hers and Rory’s, too. But I can’t. I can’t snap like Nash. I have to think about Elena. The future. The promise I made to her. The one that seems to be getting further away from me by the minute.
“There’d be simpler ways for Drazic to settle his debts. But look, Lennox, if you’re going to put me in this position . . .”
I suck in a slow breath. I hate the gleeful look on Rory’s face. He’s probably already imagining all the things he’d do to Elena if he got his hands on her. I grit my teeth. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Mama snorts. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
My shoulders sag as I let out my breath. A short-term solution. Eventually I’ll pay my debts. I’ll get out of their grip.
But god, that someday is only getting further away from me.
Mama steps out from behind the desk and approaches me. I don’t dare move as she looks right in my face and exhales her cigar smoke.
“You may think you’re good at keeping secrets,” she tells me. “But there are no secrets from me.” She leans back. “I always find out.”
19
Elena
“I’m glad to have you on board, Elena,” AJ says, handing me my nametag. “But I’ve got to warn you. My shop’s not going to be nearly as glamorous of car work as what you’re used to.”
I grin. “Glamorous? Please. I wear oil stains more than I wear makeup.”
“Yeah, but I mean, you aren’t going to be restoring gorgeous old muscle cars like you did for your uncle.” AJ leads me back to the garage space behind the storefront. “Mainly we get oil changes, brake pad replacements, you know, the works.”
“It’s fine, honest. I just need a job for now.” I hesitate, but AJ seems like a nice guy, and he was good friends with Lennox once upon a time, so I decide to ask. “You’re sure you can’t hire Lennox, too? Even if it’s just a few hours here and there . . .”
AJ cringes. “I’d love to. Honestly, I would. It’s just . . . Alexander Cartwright. He’s got this way around here. People would talk, or he could mess up the zoning for my shop . . . I need to pay off the small business loan, you know? It took me a lot to build up this place. I can’t afford to lose it.”
There’s real fear in AJ’s eyes. I don’t understand it. What does Cartwright have against Lennox? I know he didn’t exactly love that Lennox used to date his daughter, but this seems like a whole new level of weird. Like he’s trying to run Lennox out of town completely.
Well, if Lennox can get out from under the McManuses’ thumbs, he may get his wish. I’d love to leave Ridgecrest and not be haunted by memories of what our crew once was. I’ll miss them—they’re my family, after all—but maybe it’s for the best. Leave the crew behind, and all the drama.
Get a fresh start somewhere—just me and my man.
In the meantime, I’m stuck at AJ’s shop.
Like AJ warned me, most of the work turns out to be tedious, thankless maintenance jobs—the kind of shit people should know how to do for their own cars. But so many drivers treat them like a hunk of metal instead of a system that has to be kept finely tuned. When I lecture the first lady on the proper timing she needs to obey for oil changes, she just rolls her eyes at me, like I’m the asshole here.
By lunchtime, I’m exhausted and grumpy. Instead of mental work, trying to puzzle together a new car out of nothingness, it’s just manual labor, and my fingers ache. I head to the break room—more like a closet, really—and pull out the sandwich Lennox’s grandma made for me.
“Hey, djevojka.”
My head whips toward the doorway. Drazic leans against the frame, his mouth pulled taut. Even though I’m still furious at him, my heart leaps to see him. He’s my family, after all. I try to swallow it down and glower.
“I know you hate me right now.” He sighs and unfolds his arms. “But I had to make sure you’re all right.”
“Why? Should I be worried?” I ask, far tarter than necessary. Fine. So I love him. He’s my kin, and all that shit. But I’m allowed to be angry, too.
His expression, though, sobers me up. He looks genuinely afraid for me. “God, yes. For so many reasons.” I raise one eyebrow, so he goes on. “The McManuses, first of all—I don’t think you understand just how dangerous they are. To you and Lennox both.”
“They give him work. They pay him. They treat him like family.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Which is more than I can say about you.”
He winces and rubs at the stubble of his jaw. “Maybe for now, sure. But I’ve seen how they chew people up and spit them out. Hell, Sean McManus—there’s a reason he got sent to prison, and it starts right with that nasty brother of his.”
“We’ll be careful,” I say.
Drazic sighs. “But there’s Nash, too. Djevojka . . . My anger at Lennox is one thing. I’m doing my best to control Nash. But I really don’t want you to get mixed up in their feud.”
“Nash is your problem,” I snap. “You’re supposed to be in control of him.”
“Not anymore. I kicked him out of the crew. Told him his ass could come back when he’s ready to think about the whole team, and not just himself. But El . . .” Drazic shakes his head. “I just couldn’t forgive myself if he ended up hurting you in his quest to make Lennox pay.”
I groan. “When will it be enough for him? He’s still not satisfied. Not after wrecking his goddamned car, after alienating me . . .”
“Well, you didn’t exactly help matters by sneaking around with his worst enemy.”
“It wasn’t like that!” I cry. “We were on a break. And then I dumped his ass.”
“Are you sure about that? Because you sure wound up with Lennox in a hurry.”
“Fine. So maybe in my head, I was ready to be done with Nash before I actually told him so. Guilty as charged.” I throw up my hands. “But if the crime is thinking of Lennox, then yeah—I’ve been guilty of that every single day for years. And Nash knows it, too. He’s always known that.”
“He’s not in a rational place. And I can’t get through to him.”
“Yeah? You mean you’ve fucked up yet again?” I know it’s not fair of me at all, but I want him to feel betrayed. The same way I feel. He’s the one who broke up my family, after all, when he kicked out Lennox. “Don’t worry, uncle. I’ll fix it for you. Like I fix everything.”
“That’s low, djevojka. I’m just trying to protect you.”
I shove past him through the doorway. “Then stop trying. You’re doing a terrible job.”
After I get off my shift at AJ’s, I head over to the Cartwright Industries warehouse on the edge of town where Nash operates the forklift. Somewhere public, where he might feel at least a little pressure to behave himself. As bad as things got between us there at the end, I want to believe I know how to get through to him. If I can just convince him to see reason, to give Lennox a break . . .
But the look on his face when he sees me tells me all I need to know.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He rips off his vest and catches me by the arm. “The fuck do you want, you lying slut?”
“Okay,” I say, “first of all, check your fucking attitude.”
Nash sneers, but releases me with a huff.
“And fine. You want to make me into the bad guy? Go right ahead. Yeah, I broke up with you and got with Lennox immediately afterward. But that was all my doing. Don’t blame him.”
“As if he’s so fucking blameless.” Nash kicks at an empty cardboard box. “He got me kicked out of the fucking crew.”
“No, Nash, you got yourself kicked out of the crew, with this ridiculous, misguided quest for vengeance.”
Nash crosses his arms and glares at me. But I’m right, and he knows it. Slowly, his shoulders ease back.
“I’m here to make peace. Bury the hatchet.” I stare him right in the eyes. “Can you do that?”
Nash is quiet for a long moment. Please, Nash, let’s get past this. I know he’s capable of it. He’s not a villain, as much as I want to see him as one. He’s just hurting and broken. I wish I could help him get past that. For his good, and for Lennox’s and mine.
But then he shakes his head. “First of all, it’s not a misguided quest. He killed my brother. There’s no disputing that.”
“Nash, I know that—”
“Do you? ‘Cause I don’t think you do. You’re totally blinded by him.” He laughs, sour. “God. The universe is so fucking unfair.”
“Please don’t start that,” I say.
“I’m serious, El. That fucker’s got a four-leaf clover shoved up his ass, I swear. You saw the wreck last week—he was barely scratched when I swiped him. And the wreck where he stole my brother’s life? Just scratches, a few burns here and there. Even though the whole fucking front end of Troy’s car was smashed into nothingness.”
“Nash . . .”
“And then he kills my brother. Murder, El.”
I groan. “Manslaughter—”
“And all he gets is three and a half years on the inside? It’s fucking ridiculous.”
I open my mouth to respond, but then frown. Something isn’t adding up—something that’s been nagging at me ever since Troy’s death. “Wait, wait, wait. What’d you say about Troy’s car? The whole front end was gone? Driver’s and passenger’s sides, both?”
“That’s right.” Nash sighs. “Hell even Amber shattered one foot and broke her nose, and she was in the backseat. Like I said—totally unfair that Lennox walks away with almost nothing.”
“Well, he did get banged up pretty good on his right side from the shattered glass.” I blink. “But wait—when you shoved him into the wall last week, the glass sliced up his left side.”
“That isn’t the point, Elena. It’s time someone made him pay. So you should stay the fuck out of my way.”
“No, no, no.” Suddenly, everything clicks into place, like a lock being picked. I lurch forward, feeling an overwhelming urge to throw up. “Oh, my god. Nash. Oh, my fucking god.”
Nash’s tough-guy façade drops. “Wait. Are you okay?”
“I get it now. Holy shit.” But if I’m right—
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“If you kill Lennox,” I say, “you’ll be killing an innocent man.”
“What?” Nash screeches.
“He wasn’t the driver. Lennox didn’t kill your brother.” The blood drains from my face; I sway on my feet. But I have to be right. It would explain everything. “And I know who did.”
20
Elena
I find Amber at her secretary post in another Cartwright building. She’s flirting with some generic-looking suit who probably lives in the fledgling subdivision on the other side of the ridge; his tan cheeks lose all color when he sees m
e storming down the hall. Amber looks up at me, heavily mascaraed lashes fluttering in confusion, but I yank the guy out of the way and shove him aside.
“Amber Cartwright.” I slam my fist on her desk until she jumps. “We need to fucking talk.”
“Jesus. Okay. Just—not here.” She scans up and down the aisle of cubicles, then stands and beckons for me to follow her to a stairwell.
I can’t tell if she recognizes me or not. Those tottering heels of hers, totally not work-appropriate, give no indication in her sway if she understands the sort of shit she’s in. But I’m going to let her know. And she can’t fucking hide any longer.
“Now, who are you again?” she says, once she pulls me safely into the stairwell.
Ahh, now I know she recognizes me. I jam my finger right in her sternum. “I’m the girl who knows that you’re the one who killed Troy Graham.”
Amber’s bored expression falters.
“You fucking drove the car. You were the drunk driver. And you and your rich daddy made Lennox Solt take the fall.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I do such a thing?” Her voice is high-pitched, hysterical.
I smile thinly. “Because prison isn’t a nice place for girls like you.”
Amber tries to sneer at me, but it dies on her lips. “Did Lennox put you up to this? You can’t fucking believe him. He’s a liar. A murderer. Don’t trust that lowlife—”
“He didn’t have to say a word. I figured it out on my own, and if I can figure it out, so can someone else.” I gesture toward her perky nose. “Your broken foot, your nose job, the scars you had right afterward . . . You were the one driving, and your foot got pinned when the front of the car crumpled in. I’ll bet you broke your nose on the steering wheel, too, because Troy’s old car didn’t have airbags.”
“Listen, you little shit—”
“He went to prison for you.” I’m seething now. “He let everyone think he’d killed his best friend!”