by Anne Hansen
It’s so fucking pompous, Gio’s arrogant idea that he lords over all of us like we’re incompetent underlings.
“Dad worked his ass off to make the shop a success as a legitimate business,” I argue. I check my anger, but it’s hard as hell to keep it in line. “If he didn’t didn’t run this business clean as a cover for your garage, you’d have had cops all over your ass a dozen times over.”
“And if I didn’t get us the money I did running the business I did, your old man would still be turning a wrench for some foreign schmuck just off the boat like some goddamn indentured servant! I don’t much care for your tone, son.” Uncle Gio stands up and points a stubby finger in my face. “You remember who put bread on your table while your father got on his feet.” He jabs the finger back at his chest. “That was me, and you owe me a debt of gratitude for that. Your father knows enough to show his appreciation.”
I keep my mouth shut. I have to ball my fists and grit my teeth. I have to use every ounce of willpower in my body to stop myself from flying over the desk and grabbing my uncle by the tie, jerking him off that leather chair, and telling him I’m done with the way he bullies my father and our family.
But I don’t.
Because, bully or not, he holds the power, and I need to play by his rules.
For now.
“I do appreciate it,” I grit out. “I just want things to be right for my father sooner. I’m willing to do what it takes.”
“There’s no playing catch-up,” Uncle Gio snaps. “You need to come in when you’re assigned and do the work I ask you to do. You shrugged off work, now you’re in a bind. Be a big boy and accept it.”
I nod, pick up the list Gio wants delivered, and try to get my head on straight. There’s nothing worse than attempting to do this job with your brain running in circles.
When I look over the list, I feel like I know what my old man means when he complains about his blood pressure spiking. There are too many customs, too many high-end targets, and the timeline is impossible.
It’s crystal clear that when Gio pitches a fit about me playing it safe and cutting down on runs, he’s just flexing his muscles, showing he can lie to my face and still control me however he wants to. Sure, technically this list is shorter, but it’s also incredibly specific, which puts me in real danger if I slip up.
But it also proves that Gio is ninety-nine percent bark when he pretends he’s holding all the strings and doing me some favor letting me make the runs. Unless he hired another member to our crew, he’s not getting this done without me, and I know he realizes that. He needs a specific skillset to pull these in, and I’m the one who can make it happen.
Part of me wishes he would hire someone else, because the list I’m holding in my hands pretty much guarantees I’m gonna land my ass in some kind of serious trouble.
Uncle Gio has been sitting in his big leather chair, preaching to me to slow down, to not get caught, but I know damn well one of his favorite things is watching people squirm. He and I have butted heads so many times, I bet he gets a special kick out of seeing me stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Dom comes from the shop just then, wiping the grease off his hands on an old rag.
“What are you doing back here?” I ask, not meaning to sound like a dick. There’s too much on my mind right now to make nice with my brother—not that it matters. Dom and I never feel the need to be who we’re not around each other. That’s the nice thing about being brothers.
“I work here,” Dom says, eyeing the list in my hand.
It’s not a secret, what I do. More like a thing that’s out in the open, but everyone pointedly ignores it. Elephant in the room kinda crap.
Dad never wanted me to get involved in the beginning, but I was too hotheaded and restless for mechanic’s work. When Uncle Gio dangled the money and adrenaline rush in front of my face, I jumped without thinking. And, now, here I am.
“I gotta go,” I say, trying to brush by him. Dom grabs my arm and drags me to an empty corner of the shop.
“I want in,” he says, his eyes down on his scuffed boots.
“What are you talking about?” I shove the list in my pocket. I’ll memorize it and toss it…there’s no surer way to screw yourself than leaving traceable evidence all over.
“You know what I’m talking about. Dad…he’s had expenses. The shop has. Legitimate ones. But Gio takes the bulk of the money. He’s been pulling a bigger cut from your take the last few weeks.” He drops his voice so no one can overhear.
My father and uncle may be in business “together,” but it’s Gio who captains this ship, and any question about how he’s doing it is paramount to mutiny in this shop.
“What?” I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. He already took fifty percent, since he had the processing and distribution to deal with. “How the hell will we pay our side of the debt with him scalping us like that?”
“I don’t think Gio’s looking forward to the day we’re all squared up,” Dom says, flicking his eyes to the side to double check that no one’s listening. “Once Dad’s share is paid, if you decide to come work with us—”
“Of course I’d come work with you,” I say like it was always a fact. I’m embarrassed now to think how, before my arrest and Keira, I thought I might kind of enjoy what I saw as the fast, easy life of crime.
Dom nods. “Dad hoped you might. But Gio has no family running for him. He knows Tony isn’t cut out for this business and he won’t let Sebastiana come on board. Though I bet she’d drive circles around all of you.”
“No question,” I agree, smiling when I think about my loose cannon cousin. “He’s got a solid crew other than me, though. Practically handpicked them.”
“You know Uncle Gio barely trusts family, let alone anyone on the outside. At least he knows we’re watching his back, making sure no one screws him or us.” Dom blows out a long breath. “Thing is, I think he’s gonna throw the whole thing, find a way to keep Dad under his thumb so he has an onsite cover for the chop shop and the best mechanic around at his beck and call. Plus he can keep you around to report if things go south with his crew and get him his high-end cars.”
My brother switches from foot to foot, and we both get dodgy-eyed, trying to triple check and make sure we’re not in anyone’s hearing range.
I guess Uncle Gio’s paranoia when it comes to trusting outside help isn’t too crazy. Anyone who’s gonna agree to work boosting cars probably doesn’t have the most solid moral base.
“So what do we do?” I ask. “Gio already refused to give me more runs to drive my numbers up fast.” I flick out the paper. “This list is the cream. I can’t do any of these fast or easy. I’m gonna need to research and take my time. And I’m gonna tell you the truth…this list scares the shit out of me.”
Dom raises his eyebrows. “This list scares you?” He holds his hand out and, even though I think it’s a shitty idea, I hand it over. He scans it and nods. “I’ve never even seen two of these with my own eyes. You gonna do a city run?”
“I don’t think I have a choice.” I take the paper back. “Unless I can hit the burbs right outside. Which is riskier in its own way. It’s harder to blend out there.”
“Let me help,” Dom says.
“These won’t need any work, Dom. They’re gonna be beyond showroom ready when I pick them off-”
“Not on the mechanic side.” He moves his mouth back and forth. “I can drive fast—”
“That’s not even half of it, Dom. It’s complicated even when it’s simple, and these jobs? They demand experience,” I explain.
I don’t want to disrespect my brother. When he opens the hood of a car, he can see things regular people just can’t. He’s got a gift, and I didn’t always respect that like I should have.
What I do is flashy and quick, but it’s like working with a sledgehammer. It’s just a brute job. What Dom does is like a surgeon with a scalpel; quiet, but it’s a true art.
That’s
not to say a surgeon could just pick up a sledgehammer and go to town.
“How else are we gonna make this work?” he asks, throwing his hands up. “Vin, if we don’t get Dad out of this loan soon, he’s gonna be bowing down to Gio’s bullshit til he’s an old man.”
“I’ll do this list.” I say it like there’s no question, no hesitation, because that’s how it has to go if I have any chance of making this work. “I’ll do it fast and Gio will get greedy. He’ll throw more my way, and we’ll lock this down. Do you know the balance? How much we have left before we’re square?”
“I can find out.” Dom glances back toward Gio’s office. “If you change your mind—if I can help out on the streets…”
“If I need you, you know I’ll give a yell,” I say, even though we both know I won’t. I’m glad Dom came to me and let me know how serious things really are, but I’m not going to let him get tangled in this.
“Alright. I’ll have all the details figured out by tomorrow.” Dom claps my on the back, and I take the list out of my pocket one more time, even though I already have it memorized. And know where I need to start, even though I don’t like it.
But this is family. I have to do what I have to do. I take out my phone and text Keira.
Can’t meet tonight. I’m sorry. I love you.
I try to think of this as the beginning of the end—not me getting in over my head. I try to remember I have something to prove, someone to change my life for. I have to harness some of the faith Keira has in my ability to do anything, because pulling this off without getting arrested is going to take a miracle.
***
I borrow a gray Corolla, mid 90s—they make the perfect shadow cars because no one notices them. It’s spit polished, so it doesn’t raise any alarm bells when I cruise the posh neighborhoods that are surrounded by trees but have sweet skyline views…you’ve basically got to have a secret bank account in the Caymans to live out here.
I keep a notebook and record everything I need on one sheet of paper using a code that makes it all gibberish for anyone else who might get their hands on it. Five of the cars on Gio’s list are located within four streets. The thing is, I’ll have to hit fast and hard, all in one night, before anyone has a chance to report, and five is more than I’m really comfortable with. I should do two, maybe three because every boost I add to the docket is another chance for someone to see something incriminating, something that will lead to me getting caught.
But it would also knock off most of the list in one night, and that’s what I need; a fast way to reach my goal. I track the cars in the driveways of a few huge houses and make my way back to the shop. I don’t want to involve anyone I don’t have to, but Dom is my brother. I can trust him. I can lean on him, and I need to.
The surest way to screw this all up is to think I can do it all on my own.
“What do you need?” he asks, scanning the list that has every piece of information I could gather.
“Can you use your dealer connections to get the keys made?” I ask, and I hate asking it.
The connections Dom and my father have made with the dealerships in the area have gone a long way to making their business successful. Asking them to basically screw those over is desperate and it could backfire in our faces. The last thing we need is one of Dad’s legitimate connections getting linked to the underhand stuff we’re running.
“No problem,” Dom says, not even hesitating. “But, Vin?”
“Yeah?”
“If we could make sure Dad doesn’t know?” Dom gives me a long look.
“Of course.” I nod. “When we’re done with the balance of the loan, we’re done for good with Gio and all this.”
“Got it.”
Dom walks away with the paper in his hands, and I have a bad feeling low in my gut. I’ve never involved anyone else in my work at this level, especially not someone who’s not part of the crew. Now I have Dom’s fate in my hands, and it makes everything so much heavier than it was before, when it was just me I was worried about.
Just when I don’t think my conscience can’t sting anymore, a text comes through from Keira:
I know you’re busy. Thinking of you. Love you.
There’s nothing else for me to do tonight, so I head out with plans to stop by Keira’s. The problem is she’ll want to talk, and I’m getting really bad at keeping things from her. The other problem is I’m already putting her after the job and trying to hide things.
After all the weeks we spent getting over the bullshit, these kind of lies feel like a stupid, dangerous step backward.
And there’s a devil on my shoulder whispering that I should have known better. That I never should have counted on this working. That even all the good Keira brings into my life isn’t enough to drown out the bad.
I try to ignore those thoughts, but they keep screaming in my ear, even as I pull up at her place and walk straight into her waiting arms.
“Are you going to winter formal?” I ask as I finish buttoning up my shirt.
“Winter formal?” He looks at me like I’m speaking some mysterious foreign language.
“Are you serious?” I shake my head and tug my jeans on. “How about this; if I give you a time and date and tell you to show up at Eastside in a tux, can you do that for me?”
“I can do anything for you.” His smile is so damn sexy, I seriously consider stripping back out of my clothes and going for round two.
Vin brings out something very wild and crazy in me.
“I seriously can’t believe you didn’t notice the banner that covers the entire front hall. It’s dripping in gold glitter for God’s sake,” I gripe.
If this were any other guy, I’d be so annoyed. You’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to miss the glittery banners and posters, daily morning announcements, and general nonstop chatter about the big dance.
But Vin isn’t like other guys. I know he can’t stand school to begin with, and if he doesn’t absolutely need to pay attention to whatever’s going on, he’s more than happy to zone out.
Maybe I shouldn’t say “more than happy.” Vin’s been decidedly unhappy lately. Getting back together was a huge leap for him, and I know he’s nervous that he’ll somehow wind up hurting me because of what he does for his uncle.
Which truly does make me nervous for his sake. I try not to bug him too much about it, but it’s hard not to imagine the worst every time he leaves me and heads out into the night…
“So, where have you been wandering off to the last few weeks?” I ask, trying to keep the question light and non-worried.
Vin is working on changing things. I know that. I also know that it’s not as simple as just turning on his heel and leaving the only life he’s known. So I’m juggling giving him his space and protecting myself, and it’s not always easy to keep faith up.
Because there’s this tiny doubtful voice in the back of my head that tells me no one changes, no matter how badly that want to. That I’m being very naive, and I could get my heart broken in a way that will make what happened this fall feel like child’s play.
“Work stuff,” he says, then changes the subject quickly. “Come back over here. I’m cold.”
He sits up in my bed, and I let my fingers brush over my bottom lip, because I’m half sure I’m drooling.
“Maybe you’d be warmer if you put some clothes on,” I suggest with a wry smile.
“Are you complaining?” He tosses me a smile right back because he knows I’m always just trying my best not to maul him anytime he takes his clothes off.
I can’t help it. I’m a red-blooded woman, and my boyfriend is a smoking-hot Adonis.
“I guess not.” I jump on the bed and tumble into his arms, giggling as he kisses me all over my neck, flicks the buttons of my shirt open so he can kiss down between my breasts, and moves lower, to my stomach, where he blows raspberries until I scream and kick. “Stop!” I plead.
“Fine.” He lets me go and grabs his phone off my nightsta
nd. “Dammit, I gotta run.”
I watch him drag his jeans up his long legs, pull a shirt over his head, and throw his boots on. “Vin?”
“Yeah, babe…have you seen my—”
I hold up his leather wallet. “Vin?”
“Thank you,” he sighs, taking the wallet from my hand and slipping it into his back pocket before he kisses me, long and hard.
He’s almost out the door before I get my courage up and call to him one more time. “Vin?”
He turns and smiles, but I can tell from the way his eyes shift he’s impatient to go. “Do you need something, Keira?”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
His smile strains. “Work. You know I can’t tell you much more.”
“Is there…an end time? Like, a date it will all be done?” I hold my breath and watch his shoulders sag like he’s balancing the weight of the world on them.
“I wish there was, Keira. You know I need to finish this last set. It’ll put things right for my father, let him get some independence from my uncle. Trust me, I’m as tired of making excuses as you are of hearing them.” He waits for me to say whatever I’m going to say.
“I wish you’d tell me more.” I know he can’t. Still…
“The less you know, the safer you are. You know that.”
I nod. He walks back, kisses me softly, and I follow him to the door. He’s about to leave when the door swings open and he nearly collides with my father.
We all freeze, our mouths hanging open. Dad puts his briefcase down slowly, and I say I silent prayer of thanks that he didn’t come home fifteen minutes earlier.
“Dad! Um, you’re home. Early.” I look at Vin like he might be able to telecommunicate some kind of reasonable story into my brain so I can make this all look reasonable.
“Mr. McCabe, I’m glad to finally meet you,” Vin says stiffly, holding out his hand. He’s got about four inches and a whole lot of muscle on my father. Vin’s dark street clothes look intimidating next to Dad’s neat gray suit. Dad stands tall, chin up, and eyes him warily while they shake. “I’m Vin Moretti, a, um, friend of Keira’s.”
