Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Jeana E. Mann

  When he spoke, a wintry silence muffled his words. "I can't tell for sure, but I think your alternator is going out. Maybe the thermostat, too. And it looks like you're leaking transmission fluid."

  "Oh, no. Don't tell me that. It has to make it through the winter." At this point, her belt couldn't get any tighter. With a heavy sigh of resignation, she gathered her things. "I’ve got to get to work, or I’ll never have the money to fix it." He stood and stepped aside to her allow her out of the car. “If I hurry, I might be able to catch the next bus.”

  "Hold up a minute.” He pursed his lips as if weighing her options. "I tell you what. Give me your keys. I'll get Skeeter’s tow truck and take it over to his garage. We'll put it up on the lift and see if we can figure out what's going on."

  "Really? You’d do that?" Stubborn pride tempered her need. Everything came with a price, a lesson she learned long ago. She hated handouts, but fate had backed her into a corner. "How much is that going to cost?"

  "I don’t know. We’ll have to look at it.” The long fingers scratched the stubble on his chin. “I'm not promising anything, but we might be able to scrounge up some used parts. That’s the thing about old cars like this. They’re easy to fix." He hunched his shoulders against the wind. It swirled snow around his feet like shifting sands in the desert. "Come on. I'll give you a ride to work."

  The cab of his truck smelled like leather and tobacco, scents she found oddly comforting. He filled the small space with his presence, reminding her how big he was. The truck rumbled down the street, big block engine vibrating through the floor and into her feet. Neither of them spoke. To cover the silence, Randy turned on a southern rock station and hummed along to the melody, his rough voice out of tune and broken but curiously endearing. She bit her lower lip to hold back a smile.

  Like the thoughts in her mind, the snowflakes outside the window whirled and collided. A quick calculation of rent, utilities, and food suggested another lean week. Always at the back of her mind lurked Emma. Little girls needed clothes, shoes, and toys—things her self-absorbed parents would never provide.

  “If you think any harder, you’re going to fog up the windows,” Randy replied dryly. One large hand rested on the top of the steering wheel, the other on his thigh. He took his eyes from the road long enough to cast a glance at her. “You’re worrying, aren’t you?”

  She snorted and tried to smile. “I’m really good at it.”

  He pulled the truck into the parking lot of the Scotsman and set the brake before turning to face her. Their eyes met. Attraction hummed between them. Although she searched the depths of his enigmatic gaze for a clue to the origin of his bewildering kindness, she found nothing. The most obvious answers were reparation for his departure after their one-night stand or loyalty to Ally. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to puzzle it out.

  “I appreciate the ride and the help. Thanks.” Without waiting for his response, she gathered her things, opened the truck door, and hopped to the ground.

  “No problem.” His words floated on the cold air behind her. By the time she turned around, he was gone.

  CHAPER 8

  IT WAS late afternoon when Randy towed Karly’s car to the garage and got it up on the lift. He welcomed the distraction of working with his hands amid the comforting smells of motor oil and exhaust but left the garage feeling unsettled. The car, despite its pretty paint job and classic appeal, was a piece of shit and barely worth the price of the gas in the fuel tank. Breaking the news to Karly and seeing the disappointment on her face wasn’t going to be fun.

  When he got in his truck to leave the garage, he swiped a hand over his face and scowled. Why did he care what she thought? Didn’t he have enough problems of his own to deal with? The tension between Pilar and himself continued to escalate. Since she frequently dodged his calls, he’d taken to arranging his visits with Caleb through text message and email. The correspondence might come in handy if she made good on her threat to pursue sole custody.

  An incoming call from Pilar snapped him from his thoughts. Perfect fucking timing, as always. Steeling himself for another battle, he shoved the truck into gear and flicked the Bluetooth button on the dashboard.

  “I didn’t get your child support this week,” Pilar said before he could speak. The stiffness in her voice grated on his already frayed nerves.

  “Yeah, it’s nice to talk to you, too,” he said.

  “This is the third week in a row there’s been a delay. I’m sick of it, Randy.”

  The sounds of a mewling baby and playful children littered the background of her call. He could hear her rustling around the kitchen, the clang of pots and pans, water running, the dog barking. Caleb’s childish voice rose above the others. A sharp stab of pain rocketed through his chest. How was he? Did he miss his dad?

  “Stop it, boys. No running in the house,” she said to the children.

  “I’m not falling for that again this week.” He thought she might pull something like this and in preparation had done a little research. "The deposit went into your account on Tuesday, right on time.” Brake lights flashed on the car in front of him. He swerved into the oncoming lane, narrowly missing the rear bumper of the car, and cursed under his breath. Heart racing, he pulled into a nearby parking lot and cut the engine. "You tricked me out of an extra payment last week, so don’t give me that bullshit. If anything, I’m paid up two weeks in advance.”

  The heavy sigh of her frustration gusted into the phone. “Things are kind of tight around here. We needed the money.”

  “Pilar, I’m more than happy to help out with Caleb. I’ve told you a million times. All you have to do is ask. If he needs something, I'll do whatever it takes.” He traced a hand around the perimeter of the steering wheel, feeling the leather stitching beneath his fingertips. “But don’t try and fuck me over. What happened to the money I gave you last week?”

  Stubborn silence met his question. Anger ignited inside him.

  “That money is for Caleb, Pilar. Not you and especially not Mitch.”

  “Well, it’s not enough. He needs shoes,” she replied. “He's growing so fast I can barely keep him in clothes, and he eats like a full-grown man.”

  Pride swelled his chest. Caleb was going to be a big boy just like his daddy.

  “I can drop a payment off at the courthouse today, if you’d like.”

  “I need it today.” Was it his imagination, or was there a hint of desperation in her voice?

  “Like I said, I can take it to the courthouse right now. Or better yet, how about if I come get Caleb and take him shopping?”

  “It’s not your day,” she replied.

  “Are you freaking kidding me? Tomorrow’s my day.” Stretched to the limit, his patience snapped. “What does it matter?” His words fell on empty air as the dial tone buzzed in his ear.

  Son of a bitch. He slammed a fist into the headliner of the truck, overcome with helpless frustration. Accustomed to assuming control and dominating every situation, he hated feeling like a victim. Pilar knew it and used it to her advantage, plunging the knife deep into his back and twisting it with every opportunity. He supposed it was all a part of karma circling around to bite him in the ass.

  He hit the recall button on his phone. Pilar answered halfway through the first ring as if she’d been waiting for him to call back.

  “Don’t hang up,” he snapped, “or so help me God I will drive over there, and we can hammer this out face-to-face.”

  “Fine. What is it?” The bored, unconcerned tone of her voice made his fingers curl into fists.

  “If you want more money, we can have our attorneys draw something up. I’ll be there tomorrow at eight o’clock to pick up Caleb. Make a list and I'll get him whatever he needs.” Tension compressed his frontal lobe. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the space between his brows with two fingers. “This isn’t right, Pilar. We need to figure out a way to get along…”

  The dial tone buzzed in his ear again. He glare
d at the phone and resisted the urge to hurl it out the window.

  CHAPTER 9

  KARLY WIPED her hands on her apron and adjusted the waistband of her sassy kilt before heading into the bar to start her shift. On a normal night, there were three servers on the floor and two bartenders. Due to the snow, two waitresses and one bartender called off work, which left her to handle the entire dining area. Josh, always reliable and oozing positive energy, arrived a few minutes after Karly with snow in his hair and a grin on his pretty face.

  A family of four sat alone in the dining room. Their two teenage girls followed Josh with adoring eyes as he sauntered over to the bar and logged into the register. Karly couldn’t blame the girls for drooling. With spiky blond hair and stunning green eyes, Josh belonged on the pages of a magazine. What’s more, he knew it and exploited his sex appeal at every opportunity.

  “Can you believe this weather?” He rolled his eyes, straight nose wrinkling in disgust.

  “This is nothing,” Karly replied. “Last winter we got fourteen inches in October, and it didn’t melt until April.”

  “Oh, hell. I’ll never survive here. Why did I pick a college in Indiana instead of California or Florida?” He groaned. "Maybe I’ll head to the Bahamas for a few days and perk up my tan.”

  “Seriously? You just got back from Jamaica a few months ago. How do you go to school and afford all those trips?”

  He flashed a mouthful of startling white teeth in a wide grin. “I’ve been hitting bachelorette parties like they’re going out of style."

  “You mean, like, crashing them?” Karly eyed the French fries on the plate she was about to serve, mouth watering. Maybe later she could convince the cook to fix her a hamburger.

  “No, silly girl. I’m talking about shaking my money maker for a bunch of drunk chicks.” He rolled his hips in a sexy grind to imaginary music, eliciting nervous giggles from the teenage girls. Scotty, the owner, passed by the bar on the way to the kitchen and shook his head in disapproval. Josh sobered and poured out four Cokes from the fountain before sliding them onto Karly’s tray. “Two hours, big tips, and every now and then I get to hook up with a hottie."

  “Where do you come up with these jobs?” She shook her head in amazement. Last year, he worked on a cruise ship, led historical tours of the city, and gave dancing lessons at a local studio.

  “Connections,” he said with a wink. “You never know who can give you a leg up when you need it the most.” His square shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You want me to hook you up? You’ve got all the moves.” The green gaze travelled over her body, taking in the line of her cleavage in the tight white top, the curve of her hips, and the length of her legs. “You’d make a killing with your bouncy round ass in a short skirt and some hooker heels. Guys dig that naughty virgin thing you’ve got going on.”

  “Right.” She rolled her eyes. “Then explain to me why I haven’t had a date in months?” She grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the condiment shelf and slid the tray of drinks from the counter, balancing it on one hand.

  “You haven’t had a date because you spend all your time with your nose in a book or working that pretty little booty off.” He waggled a well-groomed eyebrow in a suggestive leer that made her smile. “If you’re so desperate, I’ll give you a poke in the ladies room at break.” He bit his full lower lip and smirked. She was pretty sure he meant it. He’d already shagged half the wait staff, both male and female.

  “I thought I wasn’t your type,” she shot back at him over her shoulder as she left to deliver the food.

  “Girl, everyone’s my type,” he replied.

  The bar got busy around nine when the nearby factory let out and put an end to their banter. She took orders and bussed tables for the entire dining room, while Josh held down the bar. Randy never called with news about her car. She thought about calling him, but every time she pulled out her phone, a customer arrived, and the chance was lost.

  No texts from Emma, either. She’d set up a lunch account with the school the day before, billed directly to her credit card, and was anxious to make sure Emma used it. Concerned, she called her own cell number from the restaurant phone to make sure it was operating. The call rang into her phone and went to voicemail after a few rings. She tapped a quick text to Emma before heading back to the floor.

  Karly: What’s up, baby girl? Love u!

  By the time eleven o’clock rolled around, her feet and back ached. She was about to change out of her outfit and into her street clothes when Scotty called her into his office.

  “Come on in,” he said. “This will just take a minute.” He sat behind his messy desk in the tiny office with a haggard look on his face. When she entered the room, he scrubbed a thick-fingered hand over his bloodshot eyes.

  “What’s up?” she asked. The only time he ever called her into his office was to bully her into working extra shifts.

  “You did a great job out there tonight. You’re a hard worker.”

  Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound good. Butterflies twittered in her belly. The last time he praised her work was, well, never.

  “I’m afraid I have to let you go,” he continued.

  “What?” She placed a hand on her stomach, the pain as real as if he’d punched her in the gut, and tried to catch her breath. "I don’t understand. Why?”

  “Things are tough right now. I’ve got to cut back, and unfortunately my only choice is to let a couple of people go.” His gruff voice trailed off as he reached into his drawer and pulled out a white business envelope. “Your last paycheck is in there and some cash to help you get by.”

  The unexpected dismissal brought the sting of tears to her eyes. It was official. She was now totally and thoroughly fucked.

  “Scotty, I need this job.” Overwhelmed with desperation, she searched his face and found nothing there but determination. Josh peered at her from the doorway, eyes round with concern.

  “I’m sorry, Karly. It’s done.” The chair scraped over the floor as Scotty stood. “If things turn around, I’ll be happy to have you back.”

  CHAPTER 10

  RANDY RETURNED to Felony brimming with tension. Preoccupied with his problems, he rounded the corner and barreled into Ally as she got out of her car with a stack of cardboard boxes clutched to her chest. The boxes flew into the air. Ally yelped, and papers fluttered in all directions like frightened birds. He ran after them and managed to retrieve them all. Ally took the papers from him with a laugh and stuffed them back into the boxes.

  "Sorry, Al," he said, and took the boxes from her hands.

  "It's alright. I'm a little jumpy." She opened the back door for him and followed him inside. “What’ve you been up to all day?”

  Randy felt a rush of heat into his face as he remembered Karly. Damn. He glanced down at his watch, having lost all sense of time. It was growing late, and in all the turmoil, he’d forgotten to call her about the car.

  "Uh, not much. Same old same old. Had a bitch session with Pilar. And I ran into Karly. Her car’s been giving her some trouble. I gave her a ride to work after class.”

  “Ah, that explains it. She wanted to know if I could pick her up after work tonight.” Ally took the boxes from his arms and set them on the counter. "That's it for now. Jack can get the rest." She brushed the dust from her hands and clothing. "It’s nice of you to help Karly out. I was hoping you guys would hit it off. Or are you still going through your angry-at-all-women phase?" This last was said with a teasing smile that might or might not be sincere. He never knew how to take Ally and her dry wit.

  "Your confidence in me is underwhelming," he replied.

  Ally had the good grace to look abashed. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It was a bad night last night." She shivered as if shaking off a lingering nightmare and took the top box back into her hands. "I didn't get any sleep. Chelsea called every two hours, convinced she was in labor. Jack got fed up and wouldn't answer the phone after the first two calls, so I had to deal with her."
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  "What's up with her anyway? Is she going to have that thing or what?"

  "It's not a thing. It's a baby. And she wasn't in labor. The doctor says maybe next week. She’s already a week overdue. All I can say is…" Her voice trailed off as she took a good look around the bar. "Where is Jack anyway? He said he'd meet me here."

  “I don’t know. I’ve been gone all day.” Randy glanced at his phone. No messages or texts.

  Ally’s forehead furrowed with concern. “He’s always here. I’m going to go call him.”

  Randy stretched a hand up to the top shelf, took down a bottle of the finest Scotch, and poured two fingers into a short glass. The aroma of oak barrels and barley wafted to his nose as he raised the glass for a sniff. The single malt from the Scottish Highlands went down silky smooth with a pleasant after-burn. Jack would have his ass for drinking from the top shelf, but a day like this called for a little liquid encouragement, and regular Scotch wasn't going to cut it. As he returned the bottle to its rightful place, Ally came out of the back hallway

  "Better not let Jack catch you drinking from the top shelf." Ally's husky voice echoed his thoughts. "You know how he feels about that Scotch."

  “What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Randy said, flashing a mischievous grin. “And where exactly is the cocky bastard?”

  She shook her blond head, the indulgent smile on her lips fading. “He’s sicker than a dog. He said he’s been hugging the toilet since I left this morning. I'm going home and check on him. He’s such a huge baby when he’s sick.”

  He turned around to find her watching him with a curious combination of amusement and dread. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”