Don't Let Me Go

by Rin Daniels

  After ordering the lifters, whatever extras he hadn’t collected already, and hauling all of his gear here, Lucas had just enough left to see him through a year of business. It was tight, it wasn’t exactly a guarantee, but at least he’d made it happen.

  Now he’d have to work his ass off to see it through.

  Johnny stubbed out his cigarette, flicking it into the trash bin. He whistled as he wandered back into the garage. “A little empty, but it’s looking great.”

  The compliment, easy as it was, earned a wry grin. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Fill it, and I wouldn’t have to say that,” Johnny pointed out, but grinned back. He sported a black eye today, thanks to a client who’d gotten a lucky shot in. Lucas didn’t know the details.

  He hadn’t been allowed to visit the office since he bought out his share, paid the hush money, and resigned.

  Johnny clapped him on the shoulder, a heavy hand that staggered Lucas despite being taller. “I’m proud of you, bro.” Johnny sniffed, gaze on the traffic passing beyond the lane. “Pops is, too.”

  He grunted. “Don’t be proud yet,” he said, grim humor. “There’s plenty of room to tank.”

  “That’s your problem, you know?” Another heavy clap, another jarring ache through Lucas’s shoulder. He winced. “You got no optimism.”

  “Says the loan shark.”

  Johnny snorted a laugh. “Yeah, well.” He surveyed the garage, clean except for the remnant stains of use left by prior occupants. The tools arrayed along the wall were clean, but not pristine, organized in the way Lucas always kept them. The lifters would come in a few days. Lucas would save money by installing them himself.

  He wasn’t open for full business yet, but he would be soon.

  Here in Sulla Valley—the place he swore he’d leave.

  He was an idiot.

  “Oh! Before I forget.” Johnny reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. The weather had cooled over the past three weeks, evening out to a steady seventy on a sunny day. Cool enough to make Johnny’s standard leather jacket less conspicuous. He withdrew a crinkled envelope. “This is for you.”

  Lucas took it by reflex, but froze when the thick weight of it hit his hand.

  He frowned. “What the hell is this?”

  “Call it…” Johnny mused on this for a moment. “Severance pay.”

  That made no sense. This was the same envelope he’d stuffed full of cash and given over; it was severance pay, all right, but the kind that guaranteed he was done with the office.

  Johnny tapped out another cigarette, tucked it between his lips but didn’t light it. His dark eyes glinted. “Seems like there’s some sort of investigation rolling down our way. Don’t get any funny ideas,” he added when Lucas took a step forward. “Me and Pops, well, we just don’t want any bulk money lying around right now. Too many questions.”

  “Jesus, Johnny.” Lucas’s fingers tightened over the wad of cash. The envelope creased. “What do you mean, investigation? I can—”

  “You,” Johnny said, jabbing a hard finger into Lucas’s chest, “are not part of the family. You got out, remember?” His teeth flashed white and even. “Keep your nose where it belongs.” A thumb jerked at the tools on the wall. “Like in car engines and stuff.”

  This wasn’t right. He wasn’t stupid, Lucas knew what Johnny and his dad were doing. If there was an investigation, if Wallace & Roane was in danger, they were severing ties with him for good.

  He knew how it worked. Knew they’d wipe the systems clean and offload any bulk cash they hadn’t managed to launder yet.

  He paid in cash for a reason—no electronic ties.

  But Johnny was wrong. “Dude,” Lucas said, voice low. “I am family.”

  Johnny’s grin widened, eyes glinting with it, but all he did was put his hands in his pockets and saunter towards the open garage doors. “You got a thing for Thunderbirds?”

  “Johnny.”

  “I’ll have to make sure you get your hands on her,” he said, utterly unperturbed. The look she shot back over his shoulder was forlorn. “Can’t believe you sold your Cobra, bro. The hell.”

  Yeah. Lucas couldn’t believe it, either.

  But it had paid for this place. His dream, right? His own shop.

  Lucas shoved the envelope into the pocket of his coveralls. “What will you do?” he called.

  Johnny paused. He plucked the unlit cigarette from between his lips and glanced up into the sky. “I’ve been thinking,” he drawled slowly, “about a change in career.” He studied the spotty white clouds for a moment, then shrugged. “See you around, Lucas.”

  Lucas watched as his ex-partner and closest thing to a family he’d ever had slid behind the wheel of his battered black Thunderbird, a lump in his throat.

  A change in career, huh?

  Johnny and his dad weren’t given to emotional displays. Even Mrs. Aresco was a sturdy woman whose idea of love came in how much food she could shove in a young boy’s face.

  He didn’t know how bad an investigation could get, but Johnny couldn’t be any clearer.

  Lucas was family, yeah, but he wasn’t family—the kind that went to jail for each other.

  Any attempts to help would not be met with friendship.

  Damn, he loved them.

  He took a deep breath, surveying his garage again. Old motor oil stains, the dust he hadn’t yet cleaned off the rafters, and the smell of years of car fumes had soaked into the place. It should have felt like victory.

  Instead, as he let out a long, slow exhale, he tried desperately not to think about why everything felt so cold.

  He couldn’t sit around. Lucas promised Laramie a slot today, and as much as it would break his heart to do it, he’d have to set up for a final fine-tune.

  It was just a heart, anyway. Not like he needed it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MAYBE IF SHE vomited in the black rolled interior, it would make her feel better.

  Nadine doubted it. She’d probably just feel horribly guilty about marring the interior of the car Adam freaking Laramie had bought from Lucas.

  There weren’t enough curse words in the world.

  Adam had simply handed her the keys, his expression torn between desperate hope and repentance.

  The hope was probably that she wouldn’t ream him for the minor deception.

  Now all the interruptions and weird faces at lunch the day before made sense.

  “I will,” she’d promised as she took the keys, “refrain from rolling it into a ditch.”

  Adam winced.

  Kat was still laughing when Nadine had driven away.

  Now she pulled into the place Adam had marked for her, her hands shaking so badly it was all she could do to keep the car in a steady line. There was no sign of Lucas from the wide driveway, but there was a side door attached to a smaller office-like structure. Pretty typical autoshop style. Maybe he was in there.

  Would he be mad when he saw her?

  If you want him, tell him.

  Adam’s advice had seemed so simple and clear yesterday, but as she eased out of the car and shut the beautiful red door with care, she was pretty sure that her stomach was going to lodge in her throat.

  What was she even doing here?

  Her heels clicked against the pavement as she made her way up to the open garage. The fuchsia spike heels had been in Kat’s closet since Nadine had loaned them out some months ago, and they looked pretty sassy with her skinny jeans and boat-neck tunic. She’d wrapped a wide teal belt around the billowing black fabric, which she hoped made her look cool and adult.

  Instead, she was gripped with the sudden fear that she looked frumpy and desperate.

  Stop this. Nadine was way better than this. Even Adam had given her the thumbs-up of approval.

  But Adam was leashed by Kat, would he actually be honest?

  Argh. She ran a hand through the loose waves of her hair, shaking it into something like windblown. The keys still clamped in her
hand caught in her hair, forcing a yelp. “Ohmigod,” she muttered. “Seriously. Seriously.” The ring the keys swung from tangled, and she closed her eyes as she tugged ineffectually. Please, please, please…

  “Nadine?”

  She spun, letting go of the keys to summon a wide, cool smile. “Lucas!”

  The hank of hair the keyring snarled in swung wide, thwacked her in the back of the head. She flinched.

  His gaze flicked to the side of her head, then back. He stood framed in the first of the three open garage doors, a bottle of Pepsi in his hand and his coveralls unzipped to his waist. A plain white racer-back tank hugged his muscles, dampened faintly by sweat.

  He’d been working hard.

  The darker shadow on his jaw said he’d given up shaving for it.

  She wanted to lick every exposed inch of him. The urge grabbed her by the throat, squeezed until she couldn’t get a word out edgewise.

  Nadine Sherwood. Total sex-addict.

  But only with one guy.

  That guy was currently looking at her like she’d grown an extra head and asked to cannibalize his babies. “What are you doing here?” Not very friendly.

  Then again, she couldn’t blame him.

  Her chin lifted. Keys clinked, which she deliberately ignored. “Adam was busy,” she announced. “With a thing. A…” Come on, brain. “A Kat thing. I don’t know.” Her tongue flapped without her. “Probably some weird kinky billionaire domination sex thing.”

  Lucas’s eyes glinted. He looked back over his shoulder at the red Cobra, then back at her. “I…see.”

  Maybe too well. She flushed. “He asked me to drop your—” She frowned. “I guess his car off.”

  His mouth tightened. “Yeah.”

  Silence strained between them. Nadine held his stare with sheer determination, but she didn’t dare move. Not when it would probably jingle.

  Fragile, thin as lace, hope uncurled.

  “This place is, um.” She swallowed hard. “It looks good, Lucas. You look good.”

  “You, too.” His eyes darkened. “And thanks.”

  Again, awkward silence. God, this was terrible.

  Lucas broke eye contact first. Setting the bottle of soda on the lid of a trash bin, he held out a hand at her. “I’ll need the keys.”

  She didn’t move. “Um. About that.”

  “Are they in the car?”

  “Not exactly,” she hedged. She tucked her hands tightly behind her, glancing up at the metal rafters and the triple mechanism that guided the doors. “They, um, seem to have decided that I am awesome.”

  He stared at her. Then, “Come again?”

  “Do I get that option?” she asked without thinking, then blanched when he didn’t reply. Or even smile. “No, um, I mean, they’re stuck.” She turned around before the look on his face gutted what was left of her confidence. This was such a bad idea. Every moment in his company killed her all over again.

  The keys stuck in her hair jingled.

  Lucas sighed into the silence. “Only you,” he muttered, and that hope she didn’t want to nurse kindled again. He crossed the garage, the sound of his boots on the cold pavement echoing her thundering heartbeat. She held her breath as he murmured, “Hold still.” When his fingers eased into her hair, chills rippled up her spine.

  He was touching her. At least he could force himself to do that much, which was a good sign, right?

  Nadine let out a shaking breath. “So. You sold your pride and joy, huh?”

  The hand in her hair jerked. She winced. “Sorry,” he muttered. Whatever his expression, she couldn’t see it behind her.

  Couldn’t she do anything? She closed her eyes, but that just made her all the more aware of his heat behind her, of his hands easing through her hair to pull strands loose. His fingers grazed her scalp.

  She couldn’t stand it.

  Her fingers twined together, clamped until they ached with the strain. “Lucas.”

  “Don’t.” A low, rough order.

  He should have known better. Nadine’s heart warmed. “Why?”

  The keys clinked as the snarl she’d made of her hair went taut. He didn’t answer. His breath came out on a hard exhale.

  Ignoring the keys, the pull of his hand in her hair, she turned. She expected to take a step, but he was already so close—close enough that if she took a deep breath, her breasts would edge against the thin material of his tank top. The warmth of his body edged into hers, battered away the cold ache she’d nursed for almost a month.

  He met her gaze, and she knew the instant he fell into them.

  It wasn’t her baby blues. It was her.

  With shaking nerves, she laid her fingertips against his heart.

  It thundered.

  His hand closed into a fist in her hair, keys and all. “Then what?” he demanded, graveled with frustration. His jaw tightened. “What comes after this, Nadine?”

  “I don’t know.” But she knew where to start. “Um, I didn’t know about my parents.”

  His eyes closed tightly. “God, I know. I never wanted you to.”

  She kind of got that. But it kind of pissed her off, too. Her palm flattened against his chest. “Not your call, you know?”

  He made a sound caught between a snort and a laugh. “And?” His eyes opened, glittering stare boring into hers with volatile…something. So much emotion. Nadine understood anger, even wanting, but this? Hurt. “Say I told you, then what?”

  Him, she realized. It hurt him.

  Her smile slanted into a line of raw regret. “I would have gotten angry at you,” she admitted, her heart aching as she worked at stripping it bare. She didn’t know how, but damn it, she’d feel it out. “And I would have gotten furious at them, and maybe, just maybe, I would have always wondered if you’d told me to get back at them.”

  “Christ,” he rasped, looking away.

  She caught his face in both hands. Pulled it back hard enough that he had no choice but to look at her. Keep looking at her. “I love them,” she said, every word clear as she could make it. His features hardened. She stroked her thumb over the severe line of his sculpted mouth. “I love them, but I’m a big kid, Lucas. I know when they do wrong.”

  Her eyes burned.

  Damn it. She’d been doing so well.

  She blinked hard, forcing the words out before she cried and made everything worse. “What my parents did is awful, and I am so, so sor—”

  “Don’t,” he repeated abruptly, catching the back of her head in both hands. Keys tugged, clinked, but it was a small pain compared to the hole inside her. “Don’t you dare apologize for them. Don’t you dare.”

  That did it. Her tears rolled down her cheeks. “You sold your car, Lucas. Your car! What am I supposed to do?”

  “Jesus, baby, don’t cry.” Lucas’s forehead dropped to hers, so close she couldn’t see anything more than the thick black lines of his lashes against his cheeks. His breath warmed her lips, which tingled. She hadn’t worn lipstick today.

  Maybe she’d been hoping for too much.

  Her fingers slid from his cheeks. “Someone totally smart said that if I wanted you, I should tell you. So…” His shirt bunched in her fist. “I want you, Lucas. I want you exactly as you are, except maybe a little more shaved because I have sensitive skin.”

  His laugh growled.

  Her heart fluttered. “I want you,” she repeated, “and I don’t care about anything else. You’ve been my best friend forever.” She jerked on his shirt. Seams popped. His muscles jumped. “The rest is all just…whatever.”

  Lucas wrapped long, callused fingers around her wrist. He straightened, but her grip wouldn’t let him back away. His expression was bleak. “You don’t get it, do you?” He shot a pointed look at the garage. “This isn’t exactly your usual hangout, Nadine. I’m not making money hand over fist, I’m not a trust fund kid.”

  Anger surged through her veins. She was sure her eyes crackled with it, but Lucas was too busy starin
g at her hand, small and smooth compared to his.

  The jerk.

  “I can’t,” he said tightly, “support you.”

  He’d grabbed the wrong hand.

  She cocked her right fist and drove it into his shoulder with enough force to make him stagger back a step. He let go of her wrist in surprise, eyes wide. “You asshole.” Tears streamed freely down her cheeks—and to hell with breaking him. “I never wanted you to support me!” Thud. Another punch, but she wasn’t as good with her left, and he was ready. Her knuckles stung against his forearm. “I wanted you to love me.”

  Lucas caught her third swing, jerked her arm up above her head and dragged her body tight against his. The keys in her hair swung wildly, and he reached around her head to close his free hand around them—and lock her down. His lips twisted as he shouted right back. “I have always loved you!”

  “Then why,” she demanded between gritted teeth, “did you let money get in your way?”

  He stared down at her in silence.

  Nadine stomped on his foot—a painful way to learn his boots were steel-toed.

  He swore and pulled her up into his arms. “What about you, huh? Stop that,” he added as she twisted in his grip. He carried her across the garage like she weighed nothing, plopped her butt on the hard worktable without finesse and pinned her there.

  “Oof.” Irritated, she demanded, “What about me?”

  He stepped between her thighs, grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back.

  It forced his chest against hers. His face was so close, she could tilt her head and kiss him until they both forgot about this stupid fight.

  But that wouldn’t help. They needed this out.

  She needed this out.

  Lucas glared down at her, angry color high on his cheekbones.

  But the look in his eye wasn’t all anger.

  The parts of her that remembered all too well what accompanied that sort of heat uncurled in slow, sensual hunger.

  “You dressed me,” he said tightly. “Like some sort of doll. You told your parents you’d turn me into something.”