Spin (Boosted Hearts Book 2)

by Sherilee Gray

  Adam shook his head. “Never happen.”

  “Whatever you say, man.” Hugh smirked. “I was delusional like you once.”

  Adam scowled, shook his head, then lay back down on the trolley, and slid under the car.

  Joe cleaned his hands on a rag. “I’m going to get lunch. This conversation has moved in a direction I’m not comfortable with. Next you’ll have us discussing flower arrangements for the church.”

  Hugh crossed his arms. “We’re not getting married in a church. We thought a fall wedding would be nice, you know, outside, when all the leaves have changed color…”

  “Annnd, I’m out.” Joe headed out the front, and through the main garage door.

  The crappy, white Toyota was still there, in its usual spot. He took the stairs to his apartment above the garage. He could see her sitting in the driver’s seat, hunched, ball cap pulled low. You’d think being as good of a car thief as she was, she’d make a decent spy. Not so much.

  He was close to walking over there and confronting her, but until he worked out Al’s angle—why he had her tailing him—he needed to be cautious. He couldn’t risk getting up close and personal with Al’s little niece. If she went running to her uncle, things could get a whole lot more difficult for him. He didn’t need any more trouble. Things were already on the south side of shitty.

  Still, as he took the last step, the urge to go over there, drag her out of her car, press her against it, and demand she tell him what the fuck she thought she was doing, became almost uncontrollable. Not to mention how just the thought of having her pressed up against him again had his dick trying to bust a hole through the front of his jeans.

  Christ. He needed to stop thinking like that. Not about that deceitful bitch.

  He fucking despised her.

  He just wished he didn’t want her so damned much.

  Chapter Two

  Darcey cracked her neck and shook out her hands to relieve some of the tension thrumming through her, like she was a boxer waiting for the bell to sound. That’s how she felt—how she always felt—when she came to Len’s. Like she was about to do battle. Blowing out an angry breath, she stabbed at the little, white button by the door with more force than necessary.

  The doorbell wasn’t one of those types that buzzed or rang; it was an obnoxious tune that seemed to go on for freaking ever. It got on her goddamn nerves. Definitely did nothing to calm them. Darcey cursed under her breath, shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, and braced.

  The door opened a few seconds later, a waft of sickly, gag-inducing perfume hitting her before she even got a look at the bitch standing behind it. Edith had been a model before she married Len, or so she’d said. Darcey could admit the woman did have the body for it, long and lean with fake tits out to here. But her nasty personality shone though. No amount of makeup or plastic surgery could cover that kind of ugly.

  Edith’s eyes narrowed, that ridiculous trout mouth pursing. “What the hell are you doing here, Darcey?”

  Darcey automatically planted her feet. She wasn’t going any-damn-where. No one was keeping her from Noah. Not again. Not when she hadn’t seen him in nearly a month—punishment from Al for nearly getting caught by the cops the night Joe saved her ass—and she wasn’t waiting another damn day.

  “Al said I could see him today. You got a problem with that? Take it up with him.”

  Edith’s spray tan darkened until she was flat-out red. The other woman hated that Al was in charge and that Len did whatever his big brother told him. Len may have been a stupid son of a bitch, but he wasn’t that stupid. Going up against Al could earn him a stay in a pine box, destination, six-feet under. He knew it, too. Edith could only see dollar signs and the fact she wasn’t getting what she believed was their cut. The woman was dense—dumb as a box of rocks—if she thought Len could handle the family business. But that’s what Edith wanted, and she’d been like a buzzard waiting to pick over bones since Al had gotten sick.

  No one knew how sick he was—if he would get better or not. But all Darcey cared about was how a power shift would affect her and Noah. And as much as she’d wished Al dead and buried, many, many times, she had the mindset of better the devil you know. Len and Edith, though she knew they were assholes, were an unknown quantity. To put them in a position of power…

  She inwardly shuddered.

  Not good any way you looked at it.

  All this worry was for nothing, though, because she was pretty damn sure Al Ramirez was indestructible. Like a roach. He’d be around forever, just so he could make everybody’s lives miserable.

  The bitch pointed a glossy, candy apple red-tipped finger at Darcey, almost taking her goddamn eye out. “You go straight upstairs and stay there until your hour is up, you hear me? I have friends over. I don’t want them seeing you. I mean…look at you.”

  Her squinty gaze raked over Darcey, eyeing her boots, worn skinny jeans, and her green shirt with Elliot’s Plumbing scrawled across her chest. She’d come straight from work so she wouldn’t miss any of her time with her brother, which meant she probably smelled like a toilet, since her last job for the day was unblocking one.

  Darcey straightened, glowering at the bitch, because really, she didn’t give a shit what this idiot thought of her.

  Edith smirked. “Thrift shop chic may have been your mother’s style, but really, you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

  The woman took a shot at Darcey’s mother whenever she got the chance. Usually, Darcey let it wash right off. Today, though, not so much. She gave the older woman a head to toe. “Yeah, and the slut pageant, porno Barbie look is pure class.”

  Edith shrieked in outrage and tried to slam the door, but she wasn’t quick enough. Darcey shoved it open and pushed past her, heading for the stairs.

  “Len seemed to like the way my mom dressed…a lot. Couldn’t keep his hands off her. I’ve never seen two people so in love.”

  “Bitch!” Edith screeched.

  The memory of that leech touching her mother made Darcey’s skin crawl. She shoved it from her mind, and ignoring Edith, headed upstairs. Her fake smile slipping as soon as she was out of view. Pissing Edith off was a stupid thing to do, especially with the way things were at the moment. Al may be in charge, but Edith and Len could still make life difficult for her.

  She jogged up the last few stairs to her brother’s room. The smile that spread across her face was the first genuine one she’d had in a long time. Excitement and her desperation to see him overwhelming any other emotion she’d had walking into this house again.

  It wasn’t a surprise Noah was up here. He was always in his room. Especially when they had company. Edith wanted nothing to do with Noah And Len…well, he was never here. He was also a shitty stepdad to Noah. Why he’d insisted on keeping her brother around after her mom died instead of signing custody over to Darcey, she didn’t know. Maybe it was because Noah was the last connection he had left to their mother. She hadn’t lied to Edith. Len had loved her mom like crazy. That stupid, blind kind of love. And her mom had been just as visually impaired when it came to Len. He still hadn’t gotten over her loss—even though he’d replaced her within months—and Edith knew it, too.

  She certainly didn’t want Len having a living breathing reminder of his previous wife living with them. She was jealous of a dead woman. No wonder she was such a bitch.

  How could you compete with that?

  She knocked lightly on Noah’s door then pushed it open. He looked up from the book he was reading, his expression going from extreme concentration to happiness in an instant.

  “Darce!” He flung his book aside, bounded off his bed, and jumped into her outstretched arms, wrapping his around her waist and holding tight. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

  Her eight-year-old brother was lanky, tall for his age, and had a mop of dark brown hair that always stuck up no matter how he brushed it, just like their dad. She held his smaller frame in return, goin
g down to her knees and absorbing his warmth, his smell. God, she’d missed him. So much it hurt like a wound in her chest that wouldn’t heal.

  She ruffed up his hair some more and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Missed you, bud.”

  “Missed you, too.” He didn’t wipe away her kiss, pretending to be grossed out like he usually did. He leaned back, looking her in the eye. “How long do we have?”

  Her heart squeezed in her chest. This separation, longer than usual, had taken a toll on him, as well. “An hour.”

  His face crumpled, but he was a tough kid—he had to be—and she watched him pull it together as quickly as the sadness had washed over his features. “You wanna play a video game?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Their hour went quick, too damn quick. After a couple games, they just hung out, talked, and caught up on what Noah had been doing in school, his friends, his favorite new books—but she knew it was coming, the question he asked her every time she came to see him. The question that tore her apart and left her in tatters when she was forced to walk away and leave her baby brother with these fucking assholes.

  He started to fidget, biting his lip every time he glanced at the clock by his bed. Time was nearly up. Darcey lay down on his Harry Potter duvet, and Noah did the same, so he was facing her. “You have to go in a few minutes,” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” she whispered back.

  “You’ll come back, won’t you, Darcey?”

  “Always.” She reached for him and pulled him into her arms, squeezing him tight. “Nothing can stop me.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Just…don’t make Uncle Al angry again. You gotta do what he says.” She felt her brother’s hot tear hit her arm, and it nearly destroyed her. Noah did not cry easily, but every time they had to say good-bye, it got harder and harder for both of them. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She kissed the top of his head, and they got up. Noah was giving her one last hug when the door swung open and Len, the giant, arrogant bastard, stood in the doorway, a scowl on his face. She forced herself not to shrink back when his gaze raked her from head to toe. The last few times she’d come here, he’d done the same thing, looked at her in a way that made her skin crawl. A way that put her on edge.

  Len’s eyes locked on hers. “You still here?”

  “Looks like it.” Noah squeezed her hand, a silent plea for her to behave. The last thing she’d ever want to do is piss Len off then leave Noah to deal with the brunt of his anger, so she sucked up her hatred and forced a grateful smile. “I was just leaving. Thanks for letting me stop by.”

  He snorted. “Save the groveling for someone that believes it.” He held the door open wider. “Go on, get the fuck gone. Time’s up.”

  But he didn’t move from his spot in the doorway, taking up more than half the space. He motioned for her to leave, giving her no choice but to squeeze past. She shuddered as she slid by, quickly moving away to put some space between them.

  Before she hit the stairs, she turned back to Noah. His little face was pale. He struggled to hold it together, especially in front of Len. Len didn’t like crying. “I’ll see you soon, bud.”

  He gave her a small nod, and she knew he couldn’t talk, not without falling apart, so she blew him a kiss, spun away, and raced down the stairs.

  Not letting her own tears flow until she was back in her car.

  ~ * ~

  The bass beat was heavy, pounding through Darcey. The lights were low, and as always on a Saturday night, the bar was full. She liked that. It helped her blend in. It didn’t matter that she was on her own. She could be anonymous. No one knew she was Al’s puppet or Len’s stepdaughter—or a giant screw-up that had failed her baby brother. She was just another girl in the crowd.

  She looked down at herself. A girl in her work uniform.

  Crap. She quickly zipped up her jacket to cover her T-shirt. She hadn’t made it home after her visit with Noah. Why she’d ignored good sense and indulged the overwhelming urge to come here first, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  Yeah, right. You know exactly why you’re here, and Joe hates your guts, you idiot.

  Yeah, okay. Maybe she did know. And maybe she knew what a damn fool idea it was, but still, she wasn’t moving from this spot, not yet.

  After she’d left Noah with that asshole, she’d gotten into her car and had driven around blindly.

  Until she’d wound up here.

  But after the look on her brother’s face when she’d left him behind again, she’d needed to be near…shit, someone. It was pathetic, but Joe was the first person she’d thought of. She didn’t really have anyone else. After her mother died and Al had turned her into his minion, her only option had been to separate herself from everyone close to her. How could she have friends when she was living this life? Yeah, there was Jacob, her boss. The man had been like a surrogate father to her over the years, but no way would she involve him in her mess. She couldn’t risk Al using the people she cared about against her—like he was doing with Noah.

  She’d been on her own for the last twelve months for that reason.

  Now she just needed…to be close to someone. To Joe. Even if he didn’t know she was in the same room. Even if he hated her guts. He was it. After he’d saved her ass, despite his reasons—she felt safe when he was near. Protected somehow. Her feelings for the man made no sense. A man she didn’t know—not really.

  Dumb, so dumb.

  But right now, she needed to be near him—needed it more than anything. She just had to wait for him to show up. No, she couldn’t walk up to him and have him wrap those big inked arms around her and hold her close. But this was the next best thing—the only thing she could have from him. Watching him from afar like the sad, desperate fool she was.

  She took a sip of her beer and hunkered down—in a dark corner where no one would bother her. Joe usually turned up around ten thirty. She still had an hour to kill.

  She didn’t have to wait that long, though.

  Just after ten, Joe strode in, all tall and tattooed and sexily rough around the edges. He had on his usual jeans, the kind that were soft from wear, the denim hugging his ass and heavy thighs in a way that made her mouth dry. His T-shirt was black with something—something silly, no doubt—written in white lettering on the front and tight enough it showed off his wide chest and lickable biceps. He seemed to have a fondness for funny or sarcastic slogans.

  He wasn’t alone. He had his friend Adam with him. They came together occasionally, but Adam never stayed long. He usually found someone to leave within the first thirty minutes of arriving. An hour if he was having an off night. Tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. A leggy redhead walked up to him almost as soon as he’d ordered his drink. Joe turned to his friend, shook his head, then went back to sipping his beer.

  Women watched Joe, but they didn’t make a move straight away. Adam was hot in a more approachable way. He oozed that whole Ladies’ Man vibe. Joe, on the other hand, had an air about him that screamed rough, demanding, and dominant. Even removing the facial piercings he used to have hadn’t softened him any. Only the kinds of women that thought they could handle what he had to offer went near him.

  That part of him sang to Darcey like a siren’s song. She could totally handle it. Him. She scanned the room, searching. A woman stood not far from him, eyeing Joe, closely. And Darcey watched as the brunette gathered her courage and made her way toward him, sidling up beside him. His head swiveled on his thick neck, and he looked down at the petite brunette. She was cute. Long hair. A nice, curvy body. Joe liked curves.

  Darcey shivered, remembering the way he praised hers, the way his hard body had felt pressed against her. His big, sexy, manly hands on her ass as he’d hitched her higher against the brick wall behind the bar…

  Joe and the woman started chatting. It wasn’t long before he had her laughing. Joe had a way about him. He obviously knew his height, h
is ink—the whole damn package—could be intimidating, so he used humor to disarm people. Women. God, some of the things he’d said to Darcey that night had been goofy as hell. It had eased her nerves and made him even more appealing in her eyes. The man could be extremely charming when he chose to be.

  She didn’t know why she stayed there torturing herself, but she couldn’t make herself leave. Desperate enough for a glimpse of him, to be near him, after the afternoon she’d had that she would put herself through this.

  They talked for a while then his new friend edged up to his side. Joe turned into her, inviting her to come closer.

  Darcey’s stomach churned. She actually felt physically ill seeing him with someone else. She was insane. There was no other explanation. Leave. Just get up, walk the hell out of here, and never come back.

  But she couldn’t. Her ass felt nailed to the stool under her—that is until his new friend touched his arm, lifting up onto her tip-toes. Joe leaned in, and she said something in his ear. He grinned down at the woman, and then…his eyes slid to Darcey.

  What? No.

  She froze. No, not at her, right? Shit, she could have sworn he’d looked directly at her. But that couldn’t be, or he’d be over here in a flash, tearing her a new one.

  Just to be safe, she sunk lower into her jacket.

  The brunette spun around and flounced away in the direction of the bathrooms. Probably a pee stop before they left together and a chance to fix her makeup. Getting under normal lighting after a night of drinking and dancing without a bathroom check first was never a good idea. Every girl knew this. They also only gave a crap if they had someone to impress. If they planned on being under bright lights with a hottie like Joe.

  Yep. She was on the verge of hurling.

  Darcey was up and out of her seat before she fully knew what she was doing, weaving her way through the crowd. She hit the short hall to the ladies’ room and shoved the door open before she could stop herself. Bingo. Joe’s friend wasn’t in one of the stalls, she was at the mirror, cleaning up the mascara smudges under her eyes while she pouted and pursed her newly glossed lips. Lips that would soon be attached to Joe’s.