“You lost?”
I looked up sharply at the sound of the voice. A guy not much older than me stood behind the counter, glaring at me. If I hadn’t noticed the hostile tone, it was made plain on his face. A very handsome, very dangerous-looking face, I might add.
Wow.
Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, a chiseled jaw that probably always came across as slightly angry.
Except for right now when he looked downright enraged.
I couldn’t imagine the sight of me—a complete stranger who’d never done anything to him—had sent him into a rage, but who knew. It had been a long day, and I knew my mind was still a fog after everything that had happened.
“I’m looking for Oscar,” I said.
The hottie rounded the counter, and I could see his angry response right there on the tip of his tongue. But then he must have gotten a good look at me, coated in two-day-old dried blood and probably bruised to a pretty shade of purple by now, and his eyes widened—only for a second before they immediately narrowed.
“What the hell do you want with Oscar?”
The energy coming off this guy was intense and threatened to break through the numbness that was keeping me calm.
“I just need to talk to him.”
My voice wobbled.
Of course it did.
His mouth flattened into a hard line. “I can give him the message.”
For some reason, his continued hostility made me braver. Rather than shrinking away, I straightened and held my ground. “No thanks, this is personal.”
The guy snorted. “Oscar doesn’t concern himself with outsiders.”
The way he said the word spoke volumes. Like being from out of town was a crime in itself.
“If that’s true, he can tell me himself. Is he here or not?”
The guy gave me a once-over as if assessing whether I was worthy or not. Whatever he saw must have been good enough because he finally leaned away and, without taking his eyes off my face, yelled, “Oscar! Get your ass in here.”
A second later, a muffled male voice came from out in the garage. “What?”
“Someone here to see you.”
“Take care of it, would ya? This piston is being a real pain in my ass.”
“Nah, this one’s for you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Special delivery.” The angry hottie gave me a smug smile and crossed his arms, clearly content to wait for the show.
I rolled my eyes, aggravated and beginning to regret not eating all day. I hadn’t been able to conjure up an appetite before, but for some reason, this asshole was clearing my head and bringing me back to myself.
The side door opened, and a guy about my dad’s age walked in. He had salt and pepper coloring his dark hair, including his short beard, but his face was somehow still youthful. Maybe it was the hard set of his features or the sinewy arms that looked like they picked up more than just a bottle every night. But something about him seemed young and able despite the age his gray hair implied.
“What the hell is it?” he demanded of the asshole who looked like he was about to swallow his teeth with that smug ass smile.
Without a word, the jerk gestured to me.
“Who are you?” the older man grunted at me.
“Are you Oscar?” I asked, some of my bravado fading at the grumpy way he eyed me.
“Maybe. Who the hell wants to know?” he demanded.
His eyes cut the length of me, but he didn’t react at the blood like the others had. I had to wonder how much of this sort of thing he’d seen in his life if it didn’t faze him anymore.
“My name is Ash. My father was Joseph Langford.” I paused, waiting for the recognition to register in his eyes.
But there was nothing.
“I believe he was your brother,” I added pointedly.
Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Uncertainty rippled through me. For the first time since leaving my father’s body behind, I wondered if I’d made the right choice.
What if he’d been mistaken?
What if the pain and whatever monster had infected him had made him crazy? Of course, he didn’t have a brother. He would have told me—
“Did Cohen put you up to this?” the hottie suddenly demanded.
He gripped a shop rag in his clenched fist, and I shrank back at the animosity that rolled off him.
“Who’s Cohen?” I asked, my voice suddenly not nearly so confident as before.
“Don’t play with me,” he growled. “You can tell Cohen sending some doe-eyed little ragdoll in here isn’t going to—”
“I don’t know any Cohen,” I said, shaking my head in frustration. Grief threatened to break me down. But my anger steadied me. I held onto that.
“Right. Just like that isn’t makeup all over your face. Give me a break.”
Fury swelled. He really thought I’d fake bruises like the ones currently making my head throb? I reached for my cell phone—which was basically nothing but photo storage since I didn’t have service—and pulled it out, sliding up and scrolling my photos until I found the one I wanted.
“Look,” I snapped, holding the phone up so Oscar could get a good look.
He blinked, his eyes glancing over the picture of my dad. It was from a couple of months back. He’d been sober, and we’d gone for a drive down to the lake and back. My throat closed up just remembering it—and knowing it was our last good day together. Forever.
In fact, these photos were the only reason I’d bothered bringing the damned phone at all.
Oscar did a double-take, staring at the screen, a frown frozen on his angry expression.
“This is bull shit,” the other guy went on. He was still looking at me like he was about to grab me and toss me out on my ass at any moment. “Tell her, Oscar,” he added.
But Oscar hung his head and shook it slowly before waving him off. “Kai, you can go. I’ll finish up here.”
Kai.
The hot asshole was named Kai.
And Kai did not look happy with that order.
“Oz, you can’t be fucking serious—”
“I mean it,” Oscar snapped, rounding on Kai and pinning him with a glare that would have made me shit a brick. “I got this. Now go.”
Kai cast me a look that made it clear he was only more pissed at being told to leave. Muttering to himself, he tossed the rag onto the counter with more force than necessary and then turned and stomped out through the side door. I could hear him slamming a few tools around in the garage, and then another door slammed, somewhere in the back.
A few seconds later, an engine revved to life.
Even then, Oscar didn’t say a word. Instead, he marched around the counter and opened something down low I couldn’t see. When he pulled his hand up, it held a beer.
“You want one?” he asked gruffly.
My stomach sank. I shook my head.
He uncapped it and held it out anyway. “You look like you need it as much as I do,” he said. “Maybe more.”
I shook my head again, bile rising. If this guy drank as much as my father, how was he supposed to help me? It felt like I’d just walked into another version of the life I’d left behind.
“I’m good,” I said.
Oscar shrugged and tipped it back, emptying half the contents before he came up for air again. Outside, the sound of an engine grew louder. Closer. I turned to see a black motorcycle rounding the corner from the back alley. The rider made the turn onto the main road way faster than he should have.
Even with the helmet he wore that obscured his face, I knew it was Kai.
He didn’t even look over as he sped away on two wheels.
I looked back at Oscar, unable to take the silence anymore.
“Are you going to say something?”
“My brother’s name was Caleb Lawson when I knew him.”
His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of ang
er that kept me on edge, no matter how calm he appeared to me. Still, curiosity made it impossible to stay quiet.
“What do you mean ‘when you knew him?’”
He sighed. “I haven’t seen or heard from Caleb in twenty years.”
“Why not?”
“Good question. Guess you’d have to ask him.”
“Well, I can’t because he’s dead.”
I’d meant to say the words in a flat voice. Uncaring. Untouched by it. But it was the first time I’d said it out loud, and my voice cracked on the last word.
Oscar’s expression fell. For a split second, I saw the pain he carried at having lost his brother, not once but twice now. Then the neutral mask slid back into place.
His eyes zeroed in on my face knowingly. “That isn’t makeup you’re wearing, is it?”
“Why the hell would I fake getting the shit beat out of me?” I retorted.
He softened. Only by a few inches, but it was enough.
“What happened?”
I took a breath to steady myself, and before I knew what was happening, the truth was spilling out of me. Well, most of it anyway. There were secrets I would never utter, not for anyone. But this was close enough.
“My mom left when I was thirteen. After that, my dad became paranoid. We moved a lot, and he drank—to cope, I guess. A couple of years ago, he started gambling. Stupid stuff. Card games. Betting. Problem was he couldn’t afford it. Last night, a bookie came to collect.”
“Is that who did this to you?”
I nodded.
Oscar didn’t respond.
My head throbbed, and my body felt like it had been hit by a truck. The last two days were catching up, and I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could handle before my body simply gave out on me.
“Why did you come here?”
My temper rose at the question. The challenge in it. It was clear he didn’t want me here. Which meant I would have to figure out my next move. And I’d have to do it without a car.
Shit.
“Before he died, Dad said to come find you. That you’d protect me.”
Ugh. Even saying the words felt embarrassing. I hated asking for a handout.
Oscar looked skeptical. Or maybe just confused. “From bookies?”
“I don’t know,” I shot back. “Dad was convinced there was someone after us. It’s why we moved so much.”
“Your dad was special,” Oscar said slowly, and something about it made me think of the beast he’d become right before…well, the end.
I didn’t answer.
“How’d you get here?”
I sighed, sick of the inquisition. “My car died a few miles back, so I walked the rest of the way in. Look, if you don’t want me here, fine. Just say the word, and I’ll go. But I’m not going to answer any more questions like I’m some sort of criminal or imposter. I just watched my dad get murdered in front of me, and before that he— Ugh. Never mind. I’m out of here.”
I started for the door, my balance wavering thanks to the exhaustion and pain I’d finally begun to feel. But I refused to stop now. I could do this. I could get a job. Find a hole somewhere to sleep. A trailer or maybe rent a room. I’d worked since I was fourteen, so that wasn’t a deterrent. I didn’t mind the work. It was the being alone part that would suck.
My hand closed over the knob just as I heard the words, “Hold on.”
I stopped but didn’t turn back.
“I have an extra room upstairs. You can have it if you want.”
I turned slowly, half-convinced he was kidding.
“You’re letting me stay?” I asked.
“Did the bookies get their money?”
“No.”
“Do they know your name?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll stay.” He pushed off from the counter and headed through a swinging door that led toward the back. “Come on. I’ll show you the way up, and you can shower. I’ll call a tow truck for your car.”
“I – I don’t really have money for—”
“Relax. Crater owes me a favor.” He turned back, eyeing me where I still stood by the exit. “You coming?”
I could have said no. Actually, a big part of me wanted to turn him down and waltz out of there. To prove I didn’t need some grouchy stranger of an uncle whom I didn’t even know existed before now. But the sad fact was that I did need him.
And a shower sounded way too good to pass up.
Not to mention a bed. It might even have a pillow.
“Yeah,” I said finally, “okay.”
Too tired and broken to argue, I followed him upstairs. To an apartment above the Twisted Throttle Motorcycle Repair Shop. My new home.
Chapter Four
I woke to the sound of loud machinery pulsating through the floor and groaned, pulling the pillow over my head. For all the good it did. My head throbbed with a headache worse than any I’d ever had. And my entire body felt like one big bruise.
Whatever rest and escape sleep had provided was over now.
I couldn’t even appreciate the pillow or blankets—a luxury compared to my previous life. Not considering how much everything hurt. Including my ears now, thanks to the noise.
As I came awake, the nightmare of the last couple of days trickled in again. Reality was a hard punch in the gut. My eyes welled with tears as the grief and loss hit me all over again. For a long time, I laid there and just let the tears come. This hole in my heart would probably never mend. But I had to focus on the future. No matter how badly I wanted to just go back and have one more moment. One more chance at goodbye.
But that was the past. This was my life now.
Slowly, I eased the pillow away and looked around my room.
It was small. Smaller than even the one I’d had in our last trailer. But it was well-kept and with better construction, so that was something. It was also on the second floor. Apparently, Oscar lived above his garage.
The twin bed he’d offered me had a comfortable mattress, and the bathroom was clean, which was more than I expected for a grouchy bachelor like Oscar.
After a hot shower, I’d dressed in a t-shirt and sweats Oscar had loaned me and fell into bed. My eyes had shut almost immediately. Right after I’d stuffed all my cash underneath the mattress. Cliché, yes, but it worked.
Now, I was aware enough to notice the dresser and mirror across from me. And the small bedside lamp. All of them looked newer and nicer than anything I’d left behind. It wasn’t the Ritz, but I didn’t care about that. It was warm and safe and clean. More than I could have hoped for.
I tried not to get excited though.
Oscar might have been generous last night, but who knew how long it would be before he changed his mind. A guy like that didn’t give anything for free.
The machine shut off again, and in the relative quiet, the sound of voices drifted up from the shop. All male. One of them sounded a lot like Kai. The tall-dark-and-asshole from last night.
And despite his threatening, angry demeanor, I couldn’t help the heart flutter I felt at the thought of seeing him again.
Ugh.
Why did I have to feel that for him?
It's hormones, nothing more, I told myself.
Hell, if he wasn’t such an asshole, he would have been a great distraction from my own grief. But Kai was an asshole, and I wanted nothing to do with guys like that. I’d had my fair share and I was done.
So why did my heart constantly try to tell me otherwise?
In the middle of my internal argument, my stomach grumbled, forcing me to move. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Two days ago now? Three? I’d been too numb or too upset to eat much on the drive. And last night, I’d passed out before Oscar could even mention dinner.
Without a charger, my phone had died sometime in the night, so I had no idea what time it was. I left it on the nightstand and hobbled to the bathroom.
One look in the mirror, and I wasn’t sure Oscar would even
recognize me as the same girl he’d let in last night. My face was more swollen and an even brighter shade of purple than before. Crying probably hadn’t helped, but mostly, it was the bruises. My cheek had a shine that glinted off the bathroom light where the skin had tightened and turned all sorts of crazy colors.
My hair was a hot mess, tangled and knotted after I’d slept on it wet. I poked around the cabinets and found a comb, putting it to work until I was slightly less “mountain woman” looking.
Then, I went in search of food.
The stairs let out in a back room just behind the front office. I stepped down from the last stair and froze at the sight of a strange guy. His shirt had the Twisted Throttle logo on it, and his name tag read Mick. He was poised to walk from the front office into the garage, but when he saw me, he stopped and stared. His expression morphed from surprise to horror when he saw my face.
You and me both, dude.
“Is Oscar here?” I asked.
“He ran an errand,” the guy grunted and then walked out like he couldn’t escape me fast enough.
“Wow, everyone’s so friendly,” I muttered.
But then I stepped into the main lobby area and froze. Kai stood behind the counter, staring down at some kind of spreadsheet.
“Maybe consider our lack of hospitality a sign that you shouldn’t be here,” he said without looking up.
“Trust me, as soon as I’m able to go, I’m gone,” I muttered.
Ugh.
I’d dealt with guys like him before. The diners were full of them, especially late at night. They were always cocky and entitled, acting like the world revolved around their wishes. I’d learned a long time ago that backing down only made it worse.
He finally looked up, and when his dark eyes landed on my face, he tensed.
“What’s the matter? My makeup job not believable enough for you today?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he simply stared, his eyes running over my body in a way that felt almost intimate. Like he was seeing every part of me, even the ones I didn’t want to show him. Even in my borrowed oversized sweats, I felt naked before him.
I shuddered, and his gaze flicked back up to mine. Something flashed in his eyes. A darkness that bore the same hint of murder I’d seen in Vorack just before he’d fired the gun.
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