by Cara Dee
What the fuck? If he hadn’t been smirking to show he was kidding—partly, anyway—I would’ve been offended.
“I’m ignoring that, you dick.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Why did you think we were gonna find more?”
“Because with human trafficking comes a buyer or several,” he responded coolly. “We knew there’d been…transactions.”
I flinched. I didn’t feel bad whatsoever for using money from criminals, but I hoped said criminals were buried in the desert.
“Can I ask?” I wondered.
No, I couldn’t.
He shook his head. “All you need to know is I’m satisfied with the outcome, and I don’t settle very easily.”
That did bring me comfort. It was interesting, though, that we hadn’t heard anything on the news yet.
“So what about the money?” he asked. “It’s yours.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I replied bluntly. “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t come here for entirely selfless reasons, but I still saw those photos, Darius. I see their faces every fucking night in my sleep. And knowing y’all were out here, hopefully putting those sick sons’a bitches away, without getting a dime for it…? It doesn’t sit well with me.”
He said nothing in response; he just looked at me, waiting me out, and it caused more memories to rush back. This was his shtick. The quieter he was, the more others talked. Highly frustrating, highly effective.
“I’m willing to let go of 70% of what’s in these bags,” I went on. I got a reaction to that. His brows hiked up a bit. He hadn’t seen that coming. “You didn’t work alone—share it with everyone who helped you. Even if you wanna wash your hands of everything, not everyone has gold buried on their property like you do.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Oh, sure he didn’t. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’d seen pictures of his new place up in the woods. More than that, I’d grown up with him. He probably didn’t have a savings account, but I’d bet my bottom dollar one would find themselves staring into the barrel of his shotgun if they turned the wrong stone in his yard. Or looked under the mattress.
He moved forward before I could ignore another retort. “You said you weren’t here for entirely selfless reasons.”
I inclined my head and shifted in my seat. “I need a favor.”
“I’m listening.”
Here goes.
I took a breath and hoped for the best. “You take 70% of that money, and you hire me at your restaurant. Make up a position. Maybe I’ll be a scout of some sort—someone who keeps you updated on the latest culinary trends from Vegas. Fuck if I know. And you use my share—my $660,000—to pay me a hundred grand a year until the money runs out.”
I could practically see the hamster wheel spinning.
It was a big favor, and I’d asked him for a reason. No one was better at finding loopholes and telling the IRS to fuck off. It was nobody’s business how much money he had, and there were likely no records of his savings. Which made him a good candidate. It wasn’t illegal to pump private funds into a business.
“You wanna look good on paper with a taxed income,” he stated.
I knew he’d get it.
I nodded.
“Up your credit score, be able to get loans,” he continued.
That was exactly it.
“Yes.”
He lit up another smoke with his old one. “I’d do that without the extra money, kid.”
Did that mean…? Could I breathe out? Was he agreeing?
“What’s Boone sayin’ about all this?” he asked.
“Well, unlike me, he has a profession,” I answered. “Any auto shop would be lucky to have him. He’s on board with the idea and thinks it’s smarter you hire me since he can get a job easier.” The fucker just had to try.
The reason I’d had more gigs than Boone the past four years was because he didn’t like working alone—and he lacked the confidence to be in charge. That’d always been our dynamic. I took the wheel; he fixed the car. So to speak. Then we’d split the money.
Darius lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I don’t see any problems. We’ll get the paperwork started as soon as I get home.”
Oh, fuck yeah!
A breath of relief gusted out of me, and I dragged a hand over my face.
“I’m almost insulted that you look so relieved,” he chuckled. “Since when have we not helped one another out in this family, Casey?”
“I know, but—I don’t know. This is different.” Holy shit, I couldn’t wait to tell Boone. “Thank you, Darius. Seriously.”
He inclined his head. “Anytime. I just have a small condition.”
“Name it.”
“Buy that house for your family and make sure there’s AC in the Airstream,” he said. “Gray and I will need a guest room when we visit.”
I grinned. “Consider it done.”
Epilogue
348 Pop-Tarts later
Okay, so how long was I gonna stand here and hold this?
I wiped my forehead and eyed the pool. Ace had Emma over, and the two were taking full advantage of the two big inflatable pool chairs with cupholders. They were the biggest we could find, one hot pink for me, one neon green for Boone. We would’ve bought a third, but then there wouldn’t be any room left to swim and actually see the water.
“Girls, do you need more sunscreen?” I asked.
Ace sighed dramatically—several years too early for obnoxious preteen behavior. “We’re already pasty white with the stuff.”
All right, all right.
I squinted for the sun and peered up at the aluminum tent pole I was holding in place. I didn’t know what else to call it. Boone was in charge of handyman shit, and he’d bought it. Several of them, actually. This was the last one.
I liked the house all right. It wasn’t beige. It was terra-cotta. And stucco, of course. A bit cookie-cutter, with all the houses on our street similar, but it didn’t bother me. Our house sat at the very end of the street, so in the backyard, all we saw was desert and mountains shifting in yellow, green, and red. Sunsets and sunrises around here took my fucking breath away. It was the backyard that had sealed the deal for me. The desertscape, the absolute peace, the babbling stream that ran right off our property, on the other side of the waist-high wall.
Although, I really dug the floor plan of our first real home too. It was nice to have our own bedroom. Ace loved her room too. She had the upstairs almost all to herself, except for our home office.
Letting out a breath, I wiped more sweat from my forehead and wondered what the hell was taking Boone so long.
I wasn’t gonna bitch, though. He’d gone above and beyond to give me my backyard campsite.
The little Airstream was in place, and he’d built a barbecue area around it with his bare hands. A wooden framework surrounded the Airstream, creating both a step to get into the bullet as well as a narrow deck for Ace to keep her flowers and cacti. It was her new thing. She’d spent her allowance on pots, seeds, and soil all spring. And paint, because the pots had to be colorful.
She was my daughter.
“Dad, can Emma and I bake cookies?” Ace asked.
Yeah, get out of the sun. “Go for it. There’s cookie dough in the fridge,” I replied. “Don’t touch the white chocolate macadamia, though. That’s for Daddy.”
“Got it!” She tumbled into the water with a Coke can I hoped was empty, and she swam over to the ladder. Emma was hot on her tail, and the two ran across the little lawn to grab their towels by the doors. Since we were building this outdoor area down here, we’d made the original deck a lot smaller. It actually reminded me of the porch we’d had before. Just enough space for a table and chairs so we could have dinner.
I didn’t want a damn table near my firepit. It would ruin the whole atmosphere.
Boone finally stepped out—with his toolbox—and he could not look hotter. Jeans, no shoes, no shirt, a
ll tatted up, a bit sweaty.
“You know how to seduce me,” I said.
He smirked. “You’re easy, baby.” He smacked a kiss to my lips before setting the toolbox on the stone edge of the firepit.
“That’s your fault, not mine.” I looked down at the tent pole and where it was stuck in the ground. “I think the cement has dried.” I couldn’t wiggle the pole as much anymore.
He’d drilled a hole straight through the stone tile and stuck the pole down there, and then he’d taped a level to the pole and told me to hold it in place while he filled the leftover space with cement.
“It takes twenty-four hours to dry, but it should’ve settled a bit now.”
My handyman was handy.
I didn’t know what impressed me the most, the firepit he’d made with stone and mortar or…no, now I knew. The wooden staircase he’d built along the end of the Airstream. I’d thought it would just be a few steps to cover the trailer hitch, but it turned out he had plans for the roof of the Airstream. Now we could climb up there and lie down on a cushy mat just like we used to do in the bed of his truck growing up. He was giving me my favorite memories from our childhood and beyond.
“Okay, I think you can let go now.” He swiped his thumb around the cement edge, smoothing the surface. “Where did you put the lights?”
“I’ll get them.” They were just inside the Airstream. Ace and I had picked them out online. Instead of regular bistro lights, we’d gone with a lantern design. They were tiny and colorful.
Fuck, I was excited. Boone had been at it all spring, while I had focused on installing our technology and security system inside the house. Everything was coming together now. Just a few final touches to go. Ace wanted to paint the walls in her room, and Mom thought we needed new cupboards in the kitchen.
I’d let her handle that. I didn’t give a fuck.
Right this moment, I only cared about finishing our campsite. I wanted to take a photo and send it to Darius, letting him know we were ready to have him and his partner over for a visit. The silver bullet didn’t have much, but there was a bed, AC, a small fridge and freezer, and a stereo. All the things we could need for a perfect evening out here.
Boone was attaching a hook to the top of the pole when I returned with the two boxes of lights.
“I don’t think you realize how happy this is making me,” I said.
He sent me a sideways smile and tested the durability of the hook. “I have a feeling.”
Possibly because I had a way of mauling him at the end of the day.
“Didn’t I fucking tell you we needed a house?” he added. “You might be the brains at work, but I know you. I’ve had these plans in my head for years. I know what you like.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“You have good ideas sometimes.” I smirked.
Speaking of work, I should get ready soon. I needed a shower.
Tonight would go well—gut feeling. The guy was eager, and I was fairly certain he had a buyer lined up already. That’d been the case the last two times he’d bought something from us.
Most of AJ Lange’s watch collection and the cash from his wall safe had given us our house. Tonight, I was selling the last timepiece. It was worth forty grand; we were selling it for thirty.
“Anything else you want me to do before I get ready to meet the buyer?” I asked.
Boone squinted, glancing around the barbecue area as he fastened a lantern to the tent pole. “I don’t think so. I gotta bring the chairs from the garage and attach the canvas. That’s about it.”
That wasn’t so little. The canvas ceiling would cover most of the barbecue area, except for the firepit, and half the pool. Nobody was getting skin cancer on my watch. Mom had sent me this article a while ago, about skin cancer cases rising in Nevada, and it’d freaked me the fuck out.
It was funny—and by funny, I meant fucking awful—how having everything you’d never even dared to dream of having made you terrified to lose it all.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, I could hear music coming from the other side of the house. I smelled food too. Boone must’ve gotten started on dinner.
I grabbed my bag from the passenger’s seat and left the car. Ma had given me the bag for Christmas. Worn leather, perfect fit for a small laptop. I bet she hadn’t considered that it would be a perfect bag to keep money in from illegal sales, but that’s what she got for having Boone and me as her kids.
Before I joined my family for dinner, I snuck upstairs and into our office.
Opening our safe was essentially foreplay. I was good to go for a hard fuck after every visit in here.
I emptied the laptop bag of money and stacked it with the rest.
It felt good, I couldn’t lie. We’d laid low for months, focusing on creating our home, Boone finding a job, and me researching our future options. After the summer, we were gonna take on the home of a rich, retired hedge fund dude. He had a collection of cars we wanted to get our hands on, something I wouldn’t have considered if it weren’t for a recent connection I’d made. Boone and I only had to steal them. A guy from Philadelphia would pay up front before selling them overseas.
It was gonna be fun.
After a quick trip to the bathroom and changing into more comfortable clothes, I trailed downstairs again and out onto the patio, where I came to a stop and just gawked at my dream come true.
Jesus Christ. A big smile took over my face as Boone glanced my way, and I couldn’t fucking believe him. He grinned back and tipped a beer bottle at me.
This was home. Fuck me twice and call me Santa, I was gonna grow old in this house, and no one could stop me.
“Hi, Daddy! The hot dogs are almost done!” Ace announced.
I crossed the lawn and took in my surroundings. The canvas stretching over the pool and barbecue area, the lanterns, the chairs—he’d painted them! There were four Adirondack chairs around the firepit, and he’d painted them in different colors. He’d only told me he was gonna “treat” them with something. Then the blankets Mom and Ace had bought, one for each chair.
Not a single goddamn thing was beige.
“You’re amazing,” I told Boone. “In-fucking-credible.” I walked up to him and kissed him.
He smiled into the kiss. “How did it go?”
“As planned.” We could talk more later. I touched his cheek briefly, then returned my attention to the campsite. And the food. I was starving. “We’re gonna spend a lot of evenings here, aren’t we?”
“Fuck yeah.” Ace left her seat to poke at the hot dogs on the grill. “I think they’re done.”
As if on cue, my stomach snarled. We took our seats and passed the ketchup, mustard, buns, and relish between us, and I had nothing to say. I just reveled and let Boone and Ace do the talking. Ace had been invited for a movie night at Emma’s house soon, and Boone asked the right questions about parental supervision and whatnot.
The next topic was the summer camp Ace would be attending in a couple weeks. She spoke animatedly about the excursions they’d be taking, and by the third activity, Boone had to remind her to breathe.
“I’m just excited!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never gone on a Jet Ski before.”
I grinned around a mouthful of food at a memory that surfaced and reached for my beer.
“It’s fun until your kid brother takes a sharp turn and throws you off it,” Boone replied wryly.
I coughed around a laugh.
Ace giggled and widened her eyes at me. “Did you do that?”
“I would never,” I bullshitted.
Boone snorted and shook his head in amusement.
At midnight, the neighborhood was dead silent.
Boone and I killed all the lights and climbed up on the roof of the Airstream.
It seemed he’d done work up here too. The foam mat was reinforced along the sides, making it level so we wouldn’t fall off the damn thing.
I knew our area had a spectacular view of Vega
s; all I had to do was turn around. But I wasn’t here to see the city glittering in the night. I was here to disappear into a bubble with just Boone, and it seemed he was extra eager for the same tonight. We got comfortable on our backs and let out a big breath in unison.
“Everything okay?” I asked quietly.
“More than.” He threaded our fingers together. “Just been a long day. It feels good to have everything done.”
I squeezed his hand.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, more and more stars appeared in the sky.
Until there were millions of them.
Slow, deep breaths.
The day faded away bit by bit.
How many times over the years had Boone and I found ourselves in complete silence in the middle of the desert, just staring up at the night sky? It’d become transcendent for me. Because right here, right now, I could visit myself at any age and see us in the exact same position. At eleven, when we went camping with a friend’s family. At fourteen, after flunking a test. At sixteen, after being suspended from school for fighting.
We’d driven straight out into the nothingness after we’d learned about Tia’s death too. We’d been so fucking scared.
We didn’t need to escape from screw-ups anymore, though. At some point, it’d turned into a break that just reenergized us. At the same time as it centered us, calmed us down, brought us peace.
I lifted our clasped hands and kissed his fingertips.
He sighed contentedly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I flicked my gaze from one celestial body to the next and folded my free hand under my head.
It could be overwhelming up here. On the one hand, I’d never felt stronger. My future had never looked this bright. I had my family. Ace. She owned my sorry ass. Boone, my brother, my partner in crime, the father of my daughter, the love of my fucking life. Mom. Her patience… Friends. My health. A home. Then on the other hand, underneath the stars and surrounded by my desert, I was tiny and insignificant. I was nothing in the grand scheme of things. No one would tell stories about me in a thousand years. I wasn’t gonna end up in history books or leave a mark on this earth.
