Brock expected a glare or a hostile expression. Jesse’s face didn’t bear either of those. Brock studied him and finally worked out concern and confusion.
Jesse took his seat and Farah stood by the door with her arms crossed over her white uniform shirt.
“What’s wrong with Josie?” Jesse’s voice rose in pitch and it dawned on Brock that the man was worried about his sister because why else would Brock be there.
“I don’t know. Did she steal my car?”
Jesse recoiled from the question, then shook his head. “Fuck. The old man did it, didn’t he?”
Farah’s arms dropped and she stepped forward. “You have information about the crime?” Her hair swished as she shook her head and held up a hand. “You should get your lawyer before you talk.”
Jesse scowled at her, but his features softened. “Worried about me?”
Farah’s mouth tightened and she returned to her post at the door. “Common sense. Dig yourself a hole.”
Jesse’s attention returned. Brock held his gaze steady, reminding himself how important eye contact was at a time like this.
“I haven’t heard from Josie since she came to visit before she left a few days ago. But she mentioned her suspicions that her dad targeted your acquisition and sent her ex to take it.” Jesse slumped in his seat and massaged the bridge of his nose. “That son of a bitch.”
“Did she plan it?”
Jesse dropped his hand. “Josie? Wha—Is that why you’re here? You think she planned to steal your car?”
“Yes.”
Jesse sat forward and out of the corner of his eye, Brock saw Farah shift into a less leisurely stance. Tension was thick in the room.
“My sister didn’t fucking steal your car, Walker. Once upon a time, I might’ve done something stupid like that.” Jesse’s gaze flicked to Farah, who cocked her eyebrow. “But Bill always made sure Mom and Josie stayed out of it. He’s an asshole, but that’s his one redeeming quality.”
“Then why isn’t she answering my calls?”
“You can’t get ahold of her?” Color leeched from Jesse’s complexion. “Farah, can I try calling her?”
Farah narrowed her eyes on both of them and pursed her lips. “You just had a visitation. You can’t have phone privileges on top of it.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m worried about my sister. I left her at the mercy of a loser father and an ex who’ll do God knows what to get her back. Or just do it for himself because he’s a selfish bastard.”
Brock latched onto his statement. Rage bubbled. “What would her ex do?”
Jesse snorted. “Gage? Not keep his hands off another woman, that’s for sure. But he thinks so much of himself and her dumping him didn’t sit well. He’ll find a way to back her into a corner.” Jesse shoved his finger in Brock’s face and Farah drifted closer, her hand on her taser. “If he finds out she was with you, that’d be enough to put her back against a fucking wall. He’d use that information to get Bill to cut off her money and—”
“I’m sorry,” Farah interrupted, “but isn’t your sister an adult?”
Brock ruminated on the details while Jesse’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “Does your daddy pay your wage?”
Farah’s expression was frosty. “No.”
“Josie’s always worked for him. I’ve only ever worked for him. Everything was always about the business. It paid the bills. I was supposed to get the place, but he kicked me out when Gage wormed his way into Josie’s life. I think the old man secretly hated how Mom doted on me, probably knew she wished my dad never died. But Josie was his and he controlled her. Told her where she’d work, what she’d go to school for. She thinks she’s taking care of him, thinks he needs her around, when really, she can’t afford to strike out on her own.” Jesse shot Farah a pointed look. “Not everyone is born with money.”
Farah stiffened, but Brock wasn’t concerned about whatever drama was between them.
Brock made up his mind. He didn’t have a plan, just knew what he had to do. “What’s your address?”
“No, dude. Let me try calling first.” Jesse pushed back like he was going to run out to the phone.
Farah stopped him just by holding her hand up. “No calls, you’ve already gotten a visitation today, but—”
“Fuck privileges, it’s my sister!”
“But,” Farah talked over him, “Brock can call from our phone. If she answers, we know she’s avoiding him. If she doesn’t answer, then it might indicate a reason to worry.”
Brock was up and squeezing out the door before Farah could open it all the way.
She trailed behind, keeping Jesse under guard, as Brock snatched the receiver of the hallway phone and dialed Josie.
It rang until her voicemail kicked in.
He slammed it down. “Dammit.”
“Try again,” Jesse and Farah said at the same time.
Brock did and got the same outcome.
Jesse rattled off her address. Brock didn’t need to write it down. He gave Jesse and Farah a nod and stalked out of the jail.
Blinking in the sun, he bee-lined for his truck. His tank was three-quarters full, making for at least one gas stop before he reached Waite Park. There was barely any cloud cover, so no storms between Moore and Josie’s hometown to delay him.
***
Josie bounced her leg on the arm of the couch. She was going to scratch the paint off the walls if she had to wait much longer. What must Brock think of her? Did he assume she was in on it, that’d she’d stolen from him?
If she were in his place, she’d totally think like that. Would he listen to her, believe her? She had to find out what Bill had done with the Shelby, then get it back.
The police had stopped by two days ago and pounded on the door. Like a couple of teenagers, she and Gage had frozen with identical expressions of terror. They’d been statues for a few minutes until the police had finally left. Then they’d come back again yesterday. Same thing. When would they get a warrant and let themselves in? She couldn’t get caught yet. She’d still look guilty, if not in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of the Walkers.
Josie was pretty sure hiding from a police officer when her brother was already a felon wasn’t going to help her convince anyone she was innocent.
She’d been tempted to answer the door, but Gage had shot her a you better sit your sweet ass down look. Picturing Gage getting arrested made her chuckle, but Josie had Bill to worry about, along with herself, because Milton wasn’t tied to any of the bullshit with Brock’s car. And without Bill and Gage, she’d be left at Milton’s mercy.
Gage meandered through the house. His irritation at not being able to help Bill arrange the chop, and a general lack of sleep, was making him increasingly short tempered.
She, too, was tired and cranky because she hadn’t yet found out where they’d stashed the Shelby. Once she found out, she could sneak out and use her spare set of keys to take Bill’s car. Then she’d get a phone to get ahold of Brock. But she hadn’t been able to eavesdrop on any of Gage and Bill’s conversations, and sneaking out without the info would do no good—by the time she got help, Bill or Gage would have hotwired the Shelby and moved it again.
Plus, the asshole dozed so lightly that his eyes popped open whenever her foot hit the floor. He’d manhandled her once already. If she pushed things any further, she was afraid he’d tie her up or lock her in a closet.
So she settled for needling him, upsetting him so badly he’d make a mistake.
She’d never seen him as angry as he’d been earlier. He’d answered his phone, then turned around and purred into it. Ah, a woman. Camilla or the brunette or a third woman?
So Josie had called out in a sultry voice, “Gaaage, are you coming back to bed?”
“Dammit, Jo!”
From the way his shoulders had tightened and he’d huffed at the ceiling, the rest of the conversation hadn’t gone well. Aww, poor Gage. The memory brightened Josie’s day.
Now he was
barely talking to her and cussing at the phone when Bill wouldn’t answer.
“Gonna tell me about Milton yet?” Josie picked at her nails. Nothing like reminding him about his precarious position with a violent loan shark to rile him up.
“I told you, I don’t know anything about Milton,” Gage growled.
“Bullshit.” When they’d been together, she’d learned how to tell when something was up—he’d get extremely defensive whenever she asked a question.
“Why don’t you tell me about your boyfriend?” Yep, defensive. “Or how it feels banging the guys that put your brother away?”
Since it was the tenth time he’d thrown those questions at her, she didn’t bristle. Just sighed with resignation. “Like I said, Jesse put himself away. Was I ambivalent about the Walkers, thinking they had everything, why’d they have to take my brother? Yes. But I met them and they’re good people. They might not have trusted me, but Brock treated me with more respect than people I’ve been around for years.” She shot him a pointed look.
“And you jumped into bed with them.”
Oh, his snide tone…
“No. I stick with one man at a time. People do that, you know.” She ripped her glare off Gage and stared at the ceiling. “Brock is different. He accepts me like I am and only asks for the same. I like him.”
“But you loved me.”
“Until you broke my heart, Gage. And then I saw everything wrong with us.” Like how he was even more controlling than Bill, only he was smoother about it. She swung her feet down and sat up. “What are you going to do with all the girls you’re stringing along?”
“They don’t mean anything.”
“Well, they should.”
“Has this Brock confessed his undying love? Is he in Moore wearing a chastity belt? A guy with money in a small town… What do you think is going to happen?”
Gage meant to unsettle her, and maybe with a guy other than Brock, it’d work. When she’d learned of Gage’s cheating ways, she’d been crestfallen but in an I knew it way. If Brock stepped out on her, she’d be devastated—but he never would.
“Anyway,” Gage reclined in Bill’s chair, “it doesn’t matter. He’s going to think you used him and stole his car.”
A lead weight settled on her shoulders. She’d been telling herself that Brock would understand. But why would he? He’d been so uptight about her sneaking around his place.
But he’d believed her when she’d said she was enamored with his collection.
And then she’d helped him get the car and as soon as she’d left town, the Shelby had disappeared. Who else knew he wasn’t going to be home all afternoon? Her.
She rubbed her face. What a mess.
Josie had coasted through life, letting other people dictate her path. Now she’d finally chosen her own, and those same people were blocking it.
She brainstormed through her options. She had to do something fast. Bill would finalize the deal in Detroit and move the car at any moment. Even if she didn’t know where it was exactly, the car was still in town, still untouched as far as she knew. It looked like she’d have to sneak out after all and call Brock now. She squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw. Call the police.
A spike of guilt threatened to overwhelm her, but she’d been here for three days. Bill had allowed it. He’d trusted Gage over her.
Gage’s phone rang and yanked her out of her dour thoughts. Bill. And this time, Gage was smug enough to let his voice carry.
By the time he hung up, she’d determined that her dad had found a buyer who’d purchase the car up front, at a cost that’d pay for most of their debt toward Milton. Gage just had to get it to Detroit as soon as possible.
Gage shoved his phone in a pocket of his grease-stained pants. “Finally, we can get out of here.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, stalling for time. Good news, he was letting her leave the house. Better news, he’d take her right to the Shelby. Really bad news, they were sneaking it out of town. How to turn this to her advantage?
“You don’t need to worry about that. Just do as you’re told.”
Like hell she would. She was so going with them, but when they stopped to take a leak, she and the Shelby would drive off into the sunset. She’d been coddled and protected her whole life, they’d never expect her to go so far as stealing back the car they’d stolen. It’d take a little planning and whole lotta luck, but maybe she’d nab one of their phones at the same time. She had to make this look convincing. “I don’t think so.”
“Bill’s orders.”
“Bill doesn’t order me around. I’m not going to be strong-armed into anything.”
“What else are you going to do? Stay here where Milton can watch you until he gets his loan paid in full, plus interest? You have no money, no food, and no car.”
She crossed her arms and tried to look defeated. “Where are we going?”
“Detroit.”
She’d heard correctly, then. That meant the car was loaded on a trailer somewhere. Their business was obvious. Where would they stash it? God, if she could keep it from leaving town, somehow get to it first…
“Is Bill bringing it here before we go to Detroit and ruin a piece of history?”
Gage rolled his eyes with exaggeration. “An old man drives his wife around a few times and you think we should throw tens of thousands away because he has fond memories? Grow up, Jo. This is why I told Uncle Don you couldn’t run Alvarez Automotive, that he had to step in and do something before Bill signed it all over to you instead of me.”
A chill rippled down her spine. “Uncle Don?”
Gage snapped his mouth shut.
She stood and circled him, all thoughts of grand theft auto fleeing in the face of his betrayal. “You didn’t.” Her voice rose to a shout. “This ‘we’re meant to be together’ garbage was all because you wanted the garage, wasn’t it? You kiss Bill’s ass and we get serious, then he boots Jesse. But Jesse snaps and you cheat on me, so Bill decides I’m the one who gets the garage and you snap? Uncle Don? That wouldn’t happen to be Don Milton, would it?”
She anchored her hands on her hips; otherwise she’d rip his face off. “Explains how you knew Bill would take the bait. You probably knew he’d borrowed money years ago. I bet Uncle Don shared all the information with you.”
Gage rose and towered above her. “It doesn’t matter. Bill owes Uncle Don a hundred thousand dollars. And if Bill had signed the business over to you, then you would have owed him a hundred grand. Your dad almost handed it all over. Did you know that? Before we broke up, he dipped into financial trouble, and selling to me would have taken care of it all.” A muscle leapt in his jaw. “But Camilla couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut.”
Josie snorted. “In so many ways.”
That earned her another glare. So satisfying.
She’d be indebted to Gage and he’d rule her worse than her dad. Would Bill just retire and move, thinking she was taken care of? Would he have ever realized how royally he’d screwed his own daughter’s life?
A sharp knock on the door ceased their argument. Both of their heads spun to gawk at the front door.
Chapter Eighteen
When Brock had approached the door to Josie’s small, worn-down house with peeling paint, he heard arguing inside. Heard every word. Didn’t understand it all, but it sounded like Josie was in major financial trouble.
The guy with her must be the cheating ex. Where was her dad and the Shelby? Which one had taken his car?
Brock assumed his involvement would mess up the investigation into the stolen car. He didn’t care. Once he ensured Josie’s safety, he’d work out the rest. If she stole from him, he’d walk away. If not, he’d get answers. He needed answers. There weren’t enough Mustangs on the planet for him to work on while the questions ate away at him.
He knocked again.
More shouting from inside about answering the door.
“Josie,” he called.
&
nbsp; Abrupt silence.
Crashes sounded from inside and Brock tugged at the handle. The door was locked. He evaluated the old wooden door. It was solid and sturdy.
“Brock!” At Josie’s muffled shout, he pushed the screen open wide and stepped back.
More scuffles sounded and with grim determination he cocked his knee and kicked at the doorknob. The door shook and groaned, but held firm. Brock’s hope lay in shattering the doorjamb.
Another kick, and another, and the door vibrated open, raining down splinters from the frame. Long cracks rent through the door.
A tall man with wide eyes and a look Brock could guess was panic restrained Josie.
Brock braced himself for her reaction. Would she panic like her ex? Was he still her ex? Had he really been her ex?
Her lips were pulled back in fury, hair falling over her face, and she struggled hard. The man’s fingers dug into her biceps. She tried to slam her heel onto the bridge of her captor’s foot, but he managed to dance his feet out of the way.
“Get the fuck out,” the man snarled.
Brock closed the distance between them, but before he reached her, Josie abruptly changed her fight tactics and flung her head back. The top caught the man’s jaw. He released her and stumbled back. Bending over, he covered his bleeding mouth and cussed a storm.
She jumped into Brock’s arms. He staggered back, more from shock than her slight weight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I had no idea they’d take it. Please believe me.”
He blinked at the sensory assault of her pleading words and Gage’s furious cries of pain. Brock snaked his arms around her waist. The weight of her warm body tucked into his soothed him.
The man dropped his hand. “You broke in here. Get out.”
Brock kept his gaze on Josie’s flushed cheeks. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she said and glared over her shoulder. “Gage and Bill—my dad—planned to take the car to Detroit, but it’s still in town.”
Blood ran down Gage’s chin. He must’ve bitten his lip when Josie head butted him. He stabbed a finger at them. “You stay out of it.”
Mustang Summer (The Walker Five Book 2) Page 18
