The Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set: Three Chiller Thrillers (Repo Chick Blues #1, Finding Chloe #2, Dirty Business #3) (Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set, Books 1-3)

by Tracy Sharp

  We were quickly becoming boxed in. There was a small space for me to head back into the middle lane before the truck in front of us closed it off. I jammed my foot on the gas and flew back into the middle lane. I shot a look back in time to see the space close off tightly.

  I got off at the next exit, hoping the truckers would keep the bikers distracted for a while. Not wanting to break down at an inopportune moment, I stopped at the nearest gas station and put enough gas in the bike to get me to the repo depot. I scanned the roads constantly until I was able to get back on the bike and head to Cal’s.

  When I’d finally made it safely to Callahan’s repo shop, I casually parked the bike beside his truck, steeling myself for a verbal beating.

  He slammed the door of the truck and regarded me as if I were an escaped lunatic. “Do you have a freakin’ death wish?”

  I considered that one for a moment. Couldn’t find an answer. “I don’t know.”

  “What’s the matter with you? You wanna kill yourself, don’t do it on my shift, okay?”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  He was right. In just two days, I’d made a lot of enemies.

  Chapter Seven

  We still had some time to kill, and the day had been particularly stressful for Cal, so we decided to pick a job that would be easy. We figured that repossessing a Rubicon Jeep Wrangler from a twenty-one-year-old who was scheduled to be in her summer night class would be a relatively stress-free job.

  She was in class. Unfortunately, she sat next to a window that overlooked the parking area for the college. I’ve always dug Jeeps, and I wanted to drive this one out myself. I’d just finished picking the lock when I saw her come racing across the street toward us. I’d been glancing in the rearview and side mirrors as I worked and sighed when I saw her running in a mini-skirt and high wedge sandals, highlighted hair flying behind her. I couldn’t picture this Hawaiian Tropics model type driving this Jeep. The Jeep was sweet. And I missed my Jeep so much. I couldn’t wait to take off in it. It was a gorgeous day and she had the hard top on. It was sacrilege.

  “What are you doing? Get away from my car or I’ll call the police!” She stood just outside the open door of the Jeep, smoothing back any stray hair that might’ve escaped her powder-blue hairband during her run down the stairs and across the street.

  I stepped out of the Jeep and faced her. She couldn’t have stood more than five-feet-five in her four-inch wedge shoes. I stand five-eleven inches. I towered over her. “You haven’t made a payment in months. I’m taking the Jeep.”

  She was stunned. “What are you talking about? My father makes the payments. He’d never miss a payment.”

  “He’s missed several payments.”

  She gaped at me, not quite comprehending.

  Her designer perfume was giving me a giant headache. Apparently she was unaware of the word “subtle”.

  “You might want to call him and have this straightened out. You have ten days under New York State law to pay any back payments on the vehicle and then you can get it back. Today, it’s coming with me.”

  Faced with an unyielding, hard-ass chick, she did the only thing she knew how in situations where she wasn’t getting her way. Her face crumpled and she began sobbing. “C-can’t you just give me a few days to talk to my dad and have him straighten out this misunderstanding?”

  “No. Sorry. Your father has been contacted several times regarding this matter. He’s well aware of the situation.”

  “But it’s not my fault! Why are you blaming me?”

  This conversation was going nowhere, so I made a move to get back into the Jeep, but she shrieked like a banshee, pushing past me and scrambling into the vehicle. She slammed the door and locked it, then crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child.

  This pissed me off. I didn’t have the time or patience for her little reindeer games. “Ma’am, if you don’t get out of there right now, I’m towing the vehicle with you in it.”

  Her eyes widened and she stared. “No you won’t.”

  “Oh, yes I will.”

  She glared at me with huge, brown eyes lined in blue eyeliner raccoon style. “I don’t care. I’m not getting out. It’s my car!”

  I shrugged. “Fine.” I walked over to the tow truck, climbed into the passenger’s seat, and said, “Let’s take her. Hook her up.”

  Cal stared at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Look, you want the Jeep or not? She’s not letting that car out of her sight from now on. She’ll sleep in the damned thing. I’m telling you. Hook her up and let’s go.”

  His face was blank for a moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

  I grinned back at him. He had a wonderful laugh, and it made me feel warm inside. It was making me feel downright hot, in fact.

  He backed up so that the tow truck was level with the back of the Rubicon, then lowered the underlift and clamped the tires.

  We towed the Jeep with the princess in it, yelling into her cell phone, all the way to the repo depot.

  * * *

  “Man, that Jeep is sweet,” I said, still remembering the Rubicon. My eyes were set on Woodard as he swaggered down the street like some modern day John Wayne. “Jesus.” I shook my head. “Who the hell does this guy think he is?”

  We were parked in a plain Cavalier, 2007 model. It was grey. An inconspicuous color we hoped. We were back on the strip. Apparently, Woodard liked to live close to where he worked. Or, at least where his workers worked.

  “God, by the looks of it, and to these kids, he is their God.”

  I sighed as frustration and anger did a tango in my head. “I really hate this guy, Cal.”

  “Yeah, so do I.”

  “No,” I said, looking at him. “I mean I really hate him.”

  He eyed me. “You know, I don’t know if this is such a great idea.”

  “You got a better one?”

  “Yes, you leave town.”

  “Nope. Sorry. Don’t like that one.”

  It was Cal’s turn to sigh. He shifted in his seat and leaned over, reaching into the dash. His hand brushed my thigh as he sat back again. I imagined his hand running slowly over the length of my leg. The scent of him was so strong in the car all around me. I just wanted to sit and breathe him in. Heat pooled between my legs and I squirmed in my seat.

  “What?” he said, watching at me.

  “Huh?”

  “You had a funny look on your face just then when you were looking at me.”

  “Oh.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what I was thinking.”

  “Okay. Whatever.”

  We turned our eyes back toward Woodard. I tasted acid in my throat as we watched him approach a young girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old. She wore cut-off shorts and a pink halter-top.

  “Don’t the cops come down this street? These kids should be in school.”

  “Yeah, they come down this street. They arrest the kid, bring them somewhere safe and set them up to go back to school. Maybe straighten out their lives, put them on the right track. Guess what? Ninety-nine percent of them end up right back here the very next night. Sometimes even the same night.”

  My eyes narrowed as Woodard took a handful of bills from the girl. I knew what Cal was telling me to be true. I’d grown up with many kids who’d ended up on the streets for whatever reason. The street could be addictive to them. It wasn’t only the drug addiction or the fact that home was worse than being out on the strip, but that the street was where things happened. The air on the strip seemed to crackle with excitement.

  Also, there was a sense of family between those living on the streets. The strip held a feeling of belonging for these kids who didn’t seem to belong anywhere else. The familiarity between the street dwellers was hard to match. They had to learn to feel comfortable in normal surroundings, where they almost always felt like fish out of water. On the streets, they knew what to expect, what was expec
ted of them. They knew how to do their jobs.

  Woodard walked over to a kid who was wearing a knit cap in the dead of heat. He wore oversized jeans which were almost falling off him and a black t-shirt bearing the logo of the current hottest alternative band. The kid reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, handing it to Woodard without looking him in the face. It was just like in a wolf pack. You didn’t make eye contact unless you meant to challenge. And you didn’t argue with the top dog unless you were prepared for a serious ass-kicking.

  I was chewing gum, really grinding into it, and my jaw was getting sore. It was better than gnashing my teeth. “So I bet he gets these kids straight off the bus. Probably has underlings who wait at bus stations for the young runaways. Get ‘em and train ‘em early.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he has all kinds of sources of getting young blood. This guy’s got a finger in every pie.” Cal’s eyebrows were knitted over his eyes.

  “Time to start chopping those fingers off,” I mused.

  We waited until Woodard had slunk off before approaching the strip. I knew I could pull it off, because I naturally have a wary, rough around the edges look about me. I’d been into all sorts of petty crime shit when I was a kid. Nothing really heavy. Just small, nuisance type stuff. I’d spent my share of time in formal institutions supposedly rehabilitating.

  I’ve come a long way since back then. In many ways, I’m still right back there. You might take an animal from the wild and even be able to tame it, but those wild instincts will always be there. People from the underside of the world can recognize their own, no matter how much you polish yourself clean.

  Callahan, I wasn’t sure of. Clearly he hadn’t come from a life of luxury, and he did have a cautious, almost predatory air about him. This came mostly from having to be hyper-vigilant as a result of his career choice. Repo agents were always on edge, always wary and watchful. I really knew nothing of his upbringing. Who knew what skeletons were in his closet? I wasn’t anxious to take a peek inside because I guarded my own closet door fiercely and wasn’t about to open it for anyone.

  We made our way across the street and walked toward the creatures of the night and day. On the strip, nightlife went on twenty-four hours. We’d decided to try a young boy who stood off in a doorway on his own. My guess was that he was new. He was a little too clean to have been out here for long. His clothes weren’t worn through yet, and he also still had the shine of fear in his eyes. Kids who’ve been out on the street for a long time carry a look of apathy about them. They really don’t care what happens to them after a while, if they ever had.

  He seemed to shrink back into the doorway as we approached. His short brown hair, although dirty, was stylish and hadn’t grown out much from his last cut. He was wearing brand name jeans that had cost at least a hundred bucks and his running shoes were far too clean and white to look right in this atmosphere. This kid didn’t belong here.

  “Hi,” I offered as we stood in front of him.

  “Hi.” His voice was almost in a whisper. He had a baby face. He was about fifteen years old.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked him. “You don’t belong here.”

  “I know.”

  “So?”

  He shrugged, but he looked around, his head hanging low, like a deer sensing a predator near.

  “It’s okay. He’s gone for now.”

  His eyes searched my face for a moment.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked him.

  Callahan kind of hung back a little, his eyes skimming the strip.

  “Yeah,” the kid said, nodding.

  “Come on, we’ll go get something to eat.”

  He hesitated, shaking his head a little.

  “He’s gone,” I told him.

  “He’ll be back for his money. I have to have money to give him.” He tilted his head toward the road, where cars, fancy and plain, cruised for young meat.

  “So why aren’t you making any?”

  His face seemed to crumple in on itself and he stared at the pavement.

  “Come on.” I took his arm gently. “It’s okay.”

  “Are you cops?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just friends. You look like you could use a couple.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded his head. “Yeah.”

  * * *

  “So what are you doing out here, Tommy?” Callahan wiped his mouth with a napkin.

  We’d all finished our cheeseburgers and French fries. Tommy and I still sipped our chocolate shakes, but Cal had sucked down his vanilla shake before the food had even gotten to our table.

  Tommy sat back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I met him at a fashion show at the mall. I do some modeling and I was on the runway that day. He had a camera with him and said that he was some big time photographer looking for new talent.”

  I gave a short, bitter laugh and shook my head.

  “He looked legitimate.” His eyes darted between Cal and me.

  “Most of these guys do.” Cal tried to give the kid some space by not staring at him too much. He made a show of straightening his silverware so that the fork, knife and spoon were all level.

  “He had a professional camera and business cards. He gave me his card and asked if he could take a few shots of me.”

  “Where were your parents?” I asked.

  “My dad lives in New York. My mother has gone on vacation with my stepfather for three weeks. The Caribbean.”

  “She left you alone for three weeks?” I lifted my eyebrows.

  His face grew indignant. “I’m sixteen years old. I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh really?” I immediately regretted saying it, because his face fell into itself again and he looked so lost.

  “So you went with him?” I continued.

  He nodded. “After the show I got changed and went with him.” His gaze grew dark. “And the rest is history.”

  Cal glanced up at him. “When was this, Tommy?”

  “What day is it?”

  “Friday,” I offered.

  “Last Saturday.”

  “So your parents don’t even know that you’re gone?” Cal’s voice was incredulous.

  Tommy shook his head. “Mom will be calling tomorrow. Dad will call on Sunday.”

  “So nobody’s even looking for you,” I breathed.

  Tommy shook his head again. His eyes were ringed in fading purple. He’d been given the once over. Now he wouldn’t fight back.

  I placed a hand on his arm. “We’re taking you home.”

  He looked at me as if this were an idea he hadn’t even considered. “Really? Would you?”

  “Yeah,” I answered and stifled a shudder.

  If Woodard was only playing before, he wouldn’t be after we took away one of his money makers in training. Now it was for real.

  Game on.

  Chapter Eight

  We took Tommy to stay at an uncle’s house until his parents could be called. It was out of our hands now, but I didn’t want to let him go. I hesitated in the entrance of the old Victorian until Tommy’s uncle and aunt looked at me with confused eyes. All “thank you’s” had been said, and yet this woman wasn’t leaving. Callahan gently tugged on my arm and finally I turned away.

  “He’ll be fine now.” Cal stayed close to me as we walked to the car.

  I took a deep breath and looked up at the coal-shaded sky. The humidity was so thick it was hard to breathe. It was hard to do anything. The weatherman had said that a thunderstorm was coming and would bring a cold front in with it. I loved storms. Somehow I always felt safest in the middle of chaos.

  “I know.” I climbed into the Cavalier. “But Tommy’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, watching the road. “Don’t you think we should call the cops and let them sort it out?”

  “Maybe once we find out exactly what’s what. The cops must know what Woodard’s up to. Either they don’t care, or they don’t have the time
or resources to watch him right now.”

  “And that’s where we come in.” His voice was tinged with irony, like he was trying to mirror back to me how crazy I was sounding.

  It didn’t go over well with me. “You want out, just say the word. This is something I’ve got to do.”

  He was silent for a long moment. Then he finally spoke. “Why?”

  I sighed. “Could you live with yourself knowing what Woodard’s doing? What if one of those kids was your kid? Or your sister or brother? What if it had been you?”

  “I wouldn’t have been that naïve.”

  “Oh you don’t think so, huh? Maybe you just got lucky.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Bits of water began hitting the windshield. Slowly at first, then suddenly the sky opened up and we were in the middle of a storm so furious that we couldn’t see a single foot in front of us.

  “Shit,” Cal muttered. “I’ve gotta pull over. I can’t see in this.” He pulled into the lot of a donut shop.

  “Good place to stop. I could use a cup of coffee.” I was thinking of the rich taste of chicory sliding over my tongue.

  “Cool.” He shut off the ignition and grabbed the door handle. “Ready?”

  I grinned. “Always.”

  We ran across the lot, but by the time we’d reached the doors to the donut shop, we were soaked through. As we stood at the counter ordering our coffee and donuts, two jelly for him and a double chocolate for me, I tried not to grin at the puddles forming beneath our feet.

  When we finally sat down all I wanted to do was wrap my hands around the coffee cup. The night was still warm, the rainwater barely cooling my skin, but I felt cold deep in my bones.

  We sat in silence for a moment, watching the rain beat against the window. The sound of rain always made me sleepy, and suddenly I just wanted to curl up and close my eyes, cradled by the storm