Jude pulled alongside the Fat Boy when they reached a red light, and rolled down the window. “How close did the bat come to hitting your hard head?”
Cash held his index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Not too much.”
Jude shook his head. “I told you not to go alone. You should have—”
He revved the Harley and cupped an ear. “Sorry, man. Can’t hear you.” The light turned green. Cash took off, saving himself an earful. Yeah, Jude was probably right. He should’ve gone in with another guy, maybe Pete or Sully, but he hadn’t wanted to wait for them to come back from Pensacola where they were returning the boat they’d repossessed for the bank last week. The badass Harley he currently rode would earn him five hundred bucks. If he’d waited another day, hell, even another hour, his competition could have taken possession of the bike. And he was too competitive to allow that to happen.
With the Florida sun beating down on him and the wind keeping him cool, he rode through the outskirts of Tallahassee. When he reached the warehouse where he kept shop, he slowed to avoid running over his dog, Dolly, then eased the Fat Boy inside. Dolly rolled up behind him, tongue lagging to the side, eyes filled with affection.
Cash swung his leg over the bike, then bent and scratched the German shepherd behind the ears. “You like those wheels? You want Daddy to buy you some for Christmas?”
“Yeah, Daddy. Buy me some new wheels. All the dogs in the neighborhood are making fun of mine.”
Cash chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at his mechanic, Ross. “You better not be making fun of my dog’s handicap.”
“Or else what? Are you gonna have her run me over?”
“Nope. After I get done kicking your ass. Jude will.”
Jude climbed out of the Ford F-150, then slammed the door. “I’ll do what?”
“Ross was making fun of Dolly’s wheelchair. So I told him you’d run him over if he kept it up.”
“Fuckin’ A. I got more respect for that dog than most men I know.”
Cash did, too. He’d been with Dolly for twelve years—four during the Army, eight stateside as civilians—and if it hadn’t been for her, he’d either be dead, or the one in a wheelchair. “She’s a good girl,” he murmured to Dolly, bent his head and rested it on hers. When Dolly licked him, he smiled, then gave her another scratch and stood.
“You know I was only joking,” Ross said, using a rag to wipe grease from his hands.
“Just bustin’ your balls. If I let Jude run you over with my truck, you’d put a massive dent in the front end. Since you’re the only one who could fix that, I’d be screwing myself.”
“That’s when you just take him out back and shoot him,” Jude suggested.
“Then we’d have to figure out where to hide his body. And I’d still be out a mechanic.”
“So does this mean I get to live?” Ross asked as he approached the Harley.
Cash stroked his dog’s head. “For now. How’s the bike look?”
The mechanic whistled. “Purty. How much is she worth?”
“Five hundred.”
“Nice.”
Jude snorted. “Except he almost took a bat to the head for it.”
Ross looked away. “You want me to get the paperwork together?”
“You’re such a kiss-ass.” Jude pushed by Ross, clipping him in the shoulder. “I’ll handle the paperwork. Christ, am I the only asshole around here who gives a shit?”
Ross looked at him. “You know I was only fooling about Dolly’s wheelchair.”
“Yep.”
The mechanic glanced to the office, then jerked when Jude slammed the door shut. “You know Jude’s just lookin’ out for you.”
“Got that, too,” Cash said, trying his best to be patient. Ross, Jude, Pete and Sully, they’d been together since Cash had started his repair shop and repo business eight years ago. He knew them from when he’d been in the Army. Jude was a little more complicated. He wasn’t just his business partner. He was his friend, confidant, and former Army captain.
“You want me to shut up now, right?”
“Pretty much.” Cash sighed. “But I get it.” He rubbed Dolly’s back, then made sure the custom-made straps to the wheelchair attached to the dog’s lower body weren’t chafing her. “Clean the bike up, then we’ll call it a day. Dinner and drinks are on me.”
Cash gave Dolly a quick hand signal, indicating she should follow, then headed for the office. Once inside, he unstrapped the wheels from her hindquarters. “I can take care of the Harley if you want to head home,” he said, laying Dolly on her dog bed.
Jude swiveled in the office chair opposite the one Cash used, and held up Cash’s cell phone. “Why the hell didn’t you have this on you?”
“Didn’t think about it,” he answered honestly. His sole focus had been on the sweet Harley.
Jude tossed the cell phone to him. “How thoughtful.”
Cash caught it in his right hand, then unlocked it. “Let it go, man. It’s over and done.” He glanced to the screen, which told him he’d missed a text and a call. “But if you don’t like how…” The text was from Pete, letting him know they’d dropped the boat off and were heading back to Tallahassee. The call? Nervous excitement shifted through his body, along with acute apprehension. Why would she call him now? He’d just spoken with Melanie last week, and the conversation had ended as most of their conversations had—both of them arguing. After she’d hung up on him, he’d sat with Dolly, wondering why he couldn’t man up and give her what they both wanted. He also wondered why she couldn’t accept him for who he was.
“If I don’t like what?” Jude asked, reminding Cash he wasn’t alone.
“Never mind.” He clutched the phone and debated. Should he listen to her voice message? Should he care why she called?
Anger settled on his shoulders. She couldn’t accept his lifestyle, but she sure as hell didn’t mind using him when she saw fit. The last time she blew into town, Mel had used his men to help her transport a car to Everglades City, and used his body for old times’ sake. She’d fucked him and left. Instead of being bitter about the way she’d treated him, he should be happy. The woman had a wicked temper when provoked and vindictiveness running through her veins. During the two years they’d been playing the occasional text, phone call and fuck game, he sure as hell hadn’t needed her to be steady in his life. His business had done just fine without her. His personal life had improved once the sexy witch had moved back to the swamp where she belonged with her crazy-ass father.
“Screw that,” Jude said. “What were you going to say? If I don’t like how you run things, then I can get out anytime? ’Cause if that’s how you want it, I’m outta here.”
Jude’s threat penetrated the haze of bitterness clouding his head. Cash stood at the same time Jude did and faced the man. “I was going to say that next time I’ll make sure I have my phone with me and that I’ll bring backup.” He held up the cell phone. “Mel called me.”
Jude’s eyes widened, before a big grin split his face. He shook his head and chuckled.
“It’s not funny.”
“Maybe not to you, but I just won sixty bucks.”
Cash rubbed the back of his neck where tension began to build and fought to keep his temper in check. “For?”
“Pete, Sully and Ross placed bets on which month Mel would call you for a fix. August happens to be one of the months I picked.”
He would make them pay for this. Every one of them. He didn’t know how or when, but placing bets behind his back was total bullshit. Especially a bet that had to do with Mel. His crew knew what she’d meant to him. They knew the low he’d hit when she’d left him. Even Dolly had shown signs of depression. Mel’s abrupt departure had sucked the fun out of life, had left their home cold, empty. It had taken a while, but he and Dolly had managed fine over the past two years. But each time Melanie returned, he’d been forced to face the bitter reminder of what he’d lost.
The only woma
n he’d ever loved.
Cash pocketed the phone. He’d listen to her message once he was home. “I’m glad you guys have been having fun at my expense,” he said as he placed Dolly in her wheelchair.
“We were just foolin’ around,” Jude said, apology clear in his voice. “We all miss Mel.”
“I know.” He sighed and rubbed the German shepherd’s head. Even the garage wasn’t the same without Mel working there.
“Just because I feel bad about the bet doesn’t mean I’m okay with the shit you pulled today.”
He understood where Jude was coming from. The man and the rest of his crew had been there for him when he’d nearly died. Because of them, and mainly Mel, during the past year, he’d been taking less repo jobs, handing them off to Pete and Sully, and focusing more on running the business. But he loved the rush of adrenaline he’d experience during a repossession, and still liked to take on a job now and then. “I know I put you through hell, and I know that’s why you give me shit about how I handle some of our jobs. I’ll be more considerate of your feelings.”
Jude grinned. “Your therapist would be proud.”
His cheeks warmed and he looked away. “Fuck off.”
Laughing, Jude approached him and settled a hand on Cash’s shoulder. “Look, I get that you still need the rush. You just need to be smart about it. Me? I’m good with taking the business from just a repair shop to total car care, and letting that replace the repo income. Pete’s like an artist when it comes to doing bodywork. If I remember, Mel was, too.”
Jude and Mel both wanted him out of the repo business. But neither of them understood why he couldn’t put it behind him. His therapist called him an adrenaline junkie. Mel had called him a selfish prick and a wuss, saying he could risk his life, but not his freedom. Freedom wasn’t the issue. He was cool with commitment. Being told what he could and couldn’t do for a living? Now that was a problem.
“I still think we should repo for a couple more years,” Cash said. “The extra money will help pay off equipment.”
“Either way, when that time comes, I want to make sure you walk out of this warehouse with all bones intact.”
“I hear you.”
“As for your woman?”
“She’s not my woman,” he said, the admission like nails to a chalkboard. Knowing she’d never be his again—with the exception of an occasional weekend of sex which only left him craving more, and bitter that he couldn’t have her—cut him deep. Being with her had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. Losing her had been, too. His therapist had called Cash’s emotions a ‘juxtaposition of the heart and mind’. Later, after Cash had looked up the meaning of juxtaposition, he’d come up with a simpler way to describe his emotions without the use of a big word: they were fucked up.
“You don’t have any other woman and you’ve been faithful to Mel from the moment you two met.”
Not interested in discussing his messed up relationship with Mel, Cash turned away. “I’m going to take Dolly home. I told Ross dinner and drinks are on me. Are you in?”
“If you’re buying.”
After they agreed to meet at Jimmy Mac’s—Cash’s favorite bar-restaurant—at six, Cash took Dolly to his truck. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into his driveway, then hefted Dolly from the Ford’s backseat. Once she was hooked into her wheelchair, he led her to the back of the house. But Dolly hesitated at the patio door and stared at the in-ground pool. Considering the temperature had peaked at ninety-two, the dog had the right idea.
“Do you want to go for a swim?” he asked. When Dolly barked and wheeled toward the pool, he chuckled and pulled his shirt over his head. “Hang on, girl. You’ve gotta wait for me.” His contemporary, two-story home was surrounded by woods and backed up to a large pond, which was also part of his property, giving him the privacy he loved. Not bothering with a swimsuit, he stripped to his boxer briefs, unstrapped Dolly’s wheels, then once he had her in her life vest, he helped her into the pool. The water wasn’t as cool as he’d like, but the impromptu swim wasn’t for him.
He grinned when Dolly swam to him and gave him a lick on the face. Although Dolly was adept at swimming with the use of the vest, Cash followed her around the pool. His thoughts might have been on Dolly’s safety, but they were also crowded by images of Mel. She’d loved their pool, too. What he’d loved was when she wouldn’t bother with one of her tiny bikinis and had skinny-dipped with him. He drew in a breath and dipped his head under the water. Resurfacing, he blinked and moved alongside the dog.
“I wonder what she wants,” he said. Dolly looked at him. “Probably to nag me about something. It’s not like she calls to see how I’m doing.” He twisted to his back and swam in front of the dog. “I should call her tomorrow. Make her wait, like she does to me.”
Dolly doggy-paddled toward the shallow end of the pool, signaling she was finished. “But what if something’s wrong? Maybe her crazy-ass daddy is sick. Maybe she is.”
Dolly held still as he removed her vest and dried her with a towel that had been left on the chair after yesterday’s swim. The patience in her eyes had him realizing that his therapist was right. He couldn’t continue on his current path. His best friend was a dog. He was in love with a woman who refused to be with him, yet couldn’t let him go. He continued to unnecessarily place himself in dangerous situations for the rush and adrenaline without a thought for the people who cared about him. Yet he couldn’t let go of the repo business, no matter that it had nearly killed him and had ruined his relationship with Mel.
He rubbed the towel beneath the dog’s muzzle. “I’m being stupid. I should go with Jude’s plan, take the garage to a new level, stop repoing and tell Mel she doesn’t have to worry about me getting hurt.” Satisfied Dolly was dry enough, he used the other towel to take care of himself before strapping on her wheels. “Before I go there, I should see what she wants first. Could be she’s calling about insurance again. Or maybe Jude’s right and she’s coming to town for a quickie.” He fished his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, then after gathering the rest of his clothes and boots, he opened the sliding patio door. After Dolly made her way inside, Cash froze at the threshold, more of his therapist’s words taunting him.
How can you wait on this woman? More importantly, Cash, how long do you expect her to wait on you?
Hell, Melanie could have been calling to finally ask him for a divorce.
Cap’n Ryan’s Airboat Tours, Everglades City, Florida
Thursday, 5:22 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time
Melanie Scarlet tossed the rag into the stainless steel sink, then turned and slammed the ice cream cooler shut. Dang it, she knew she should have waited to call Cash. But she hadn’t wanted to catch him at home, in their house, Dolly lying on the floor near the couch. She’d wanted to talk to him while he was busy at work, hoping to keep the conversation quick and to the point. Because if she gave Cash the opportunity to start talking, the temptation to make the seven-hour trip to see him and Dolly would be too great to ignore.
She opened the refrigerator and began stowing the condiments inside. Now she wouldn’t be prepared for his return call. He could catch her off guard, maybe when she was home—alone—bored, lonely. Or in her garage where the smell of rubber, grease and fuel fed her imagination. Cash, dirty and sweaty after working on cars all day. His rough hands pushing her jeans down and her shirt up as he pressed her against the hood of a car.
With a frustrated grunt she shoved the rest of the condiments into the fridge. Why did he have to be such a selfish, stubborn fool? And why was she still hanging onto the hope that he would change? People didn’t change. ‘Can’t change the stripes of a tiger,’ her daddy liked to say, and he was dead right. Cash was, and always would be, more concerned about getting his rocks off risking his life, than anyone or anything else.
“Ice Cream Lady sound like angry gator.”
Mel gripped the refrigerator handles and reined in her irritation. She was not i
n the mood for the Russian. “What are you talking about?”
“Mel growl like Polina.”
She turned and dropped her gaze to the floor where Vlad Aristov’s three-foot alligator, Polina, stood next to him, a band around her snout, a leash attached to the lacy pink collar Mel had bought for her. “I told you before, no animals where we serve food.”
“Vlad know this.”
“Then why are you breaking the rules?”
“Vlad and Polina need ride.”
She did not want that gator in her newly restored 1978 Chevy Camaro Z28. “From me?”
When the Russian nodded his blond head, she picked up a fresh washcloth, moved to the sink, then ran it under hot water. “Why can’t Harrison take you home?” Harrison and Vlad both worked at the boat shop and were roommates.
Vlad’s eyes narrowed. “Harry become…нытье старуха.”
“And that means what?” she asked as she wiped off the counter.
“Harry nag Vlad like old lady.” The Russian frowned and his face hardened. “Vlad have enough. Harry and Vlad kaput.”
“You’re breaking up?”
Vlad nodded. “Like song say, it hard to do. But Vlad must.” He punched his hand, the gator never flinching when the leash jerked slightly.
She rinsed the washcloth. “No offense, but I’ve got my own problems.”
Vlad’s face softened. “Vlad good listener. Tell Vlad why Ice Cream Lady filled with growl.”
In a strange way, she loved Vlad, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk with him or anyone right now. At this point, she didn’t even want to speak with Cash. She needed to, though. Her cousin, Bobby, who was more like a little brother to her, occasionally worked for Cash. The past two checks she’d sent to Bobby hadn’t been cashed and his cell phone was out of service. Since Bobby never passed up free money and never went anywhere without his phone, she was terrified something had happened to him.
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