Accelerate

by Tracy Wolff

  One whole wall is lined with glass-walled cabinets filled with snacks while the refrigerator, which also has a glass front, is loaded with all kinds of drinks plus two bowls of fresh fruit.

  The back half of the room has a bright red wraparound couch and two oversized chairs. Plus there’s a huge TV with a PlayStation 4 attached to it and a well-used foosball table against the back wall. The windows are covered with cheerful curtains and hanging on the walls are all kinds of photo collages of the people I just saw in the garage—pictures of them at the races, at parties, at work, even on what looks to be a couple group vacations in exotic locales.

  No wonder they seemed like such a unit in the garage—they are. These people aren’t just friends, aren’t just colleagues. They’re family and it shows.

  Benji is already sitting at the table, some skateboarding thing streaming on the laptop in front of him as he scarfs down a burrito. He’s a cute kid, really cute, and I can’t help smiling as I settle down next to him with the bag of tacos Lena brought me.

  He grins at me, revealing two missing teeth. “Want to watch with me?”

  “Sure. What are you watching?”

  “The Skateboarding Big Air event from the X Games this year. It’s crazy good.”

  “You should know,” Lena teases him. “You’ve watched it about three hundred times.”

  “Because it’s sick, Mom! The tricks they’re pulling are insane. I want to learn how to do all of them.”

  I tap the cast on his left arm. “Is that how you got that? Trying to do one of those insane tricks?”

  “Yeah. I tried to board down a railing at the park, even though my mom told me not to. She says I have to wait a couple more years to do tricks like that, but how am I going to know what I can do if I don’t try?” He looks perplexed as he shoves another bite of burrito in his mouth.

  “That’s a good point,” I agree. “But sometimes it’s better to start small and build up.”

  He rolls his eyes. “That’s what my uncle Nic says.”

  “Your uncle Nic is a pretty smart guy.”

  “That’s what everybody says.” He looks at my still closed bag. “Aren’t you going to eat? The carne asada tacos are the best!”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “They’re so good, I had Mom get you four.”

  “Four, wow. That’s a lot.”

  “Well, if you don’t eat them all…”

  I reach in the bag with a laugh, pull out all four tacos and hand him two. “How’s that? Two for you and two for me.”

  “He already had two,” Lena says as she walks over and opens the fridge. “What do you want to drink? We’ve got pretty much everything.”

  “More water would be great, thanks.”

  I smile at her as she hands me a bottle, then turn back to Benji. “So, I don’t know much about skateboarding but that YouTube video looks pretty cool. Wanna explain the tricks they’re doing while we eat?”

  “Yeah! Well, right now Kevin Jones is up. He does the best—”

  “You’re in for it now,” Lena tells me. “He’s going to talk your ear off. He’s an eight-year-old encyclopedia of skateboarding tricks.”

  I shrug. “That’s what ears are for. Besides, it’s best to learn new things from an expert. Right, Benji?”

  “Right, Jordan!”

  I spend the next hour watching skateboarding video after skateboarding video as Benji explains the basics of the sport to me. It’s a lot more complex than I ever imagined—and a lot more interesting.

  He’s just put on a new video, this one from the Skate Vert finals from the 2015 X Games, when Nic comes to the door.

  “Looks like you two are getting along pretty well,” he says, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

  “We are!” Benji tells him. “I’ve been teaching Jordan all about the different kinds of skateboarding competitions. She’s really cool.”

  “She is cool,” Nic agrees, ruffling his nephew’s hair before turning to me. “You ready to go?”

  “Go? You mean, home?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to take the car to Anderson and I thought I’d have Payton run you home.”

  “Payton?” I know my voice sounds funny, but I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that Nic isn’t going to be the one taking me home.

  “Yeah. I figured you’d be more comfortable with a woman. Is that okay? I mean, I can take you, but you’ll have to hang out at least another hour and I figured you’d be anxious to see the last of us.”

  “Oh, right.” I push back from the table, gathering Benji’s trash and mine as I do.

  “I can do that.” Nic tries to take the trash from me, but I dodge around him.

  “I’ve got it—it’s not like it’s hard.” After dropping it in the wastebasket by the door, I shoot Benji a smile. “Thanks for explaining all that stuff to me. It was a lot of fun.”

  “You’re welcome! If you want, I can teach you more next time.”

  “I don’t think Jordan’s going to be back,” Nic tells him, just as I start to say, “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  We stare at each other awkwardly for a second, then Nic comes up behind me, gesturing for me to precede him out the door. We head toward the garage, but I stop right before we get there.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” I ask. “I mean, do I call the cops and report the car missing? Do I call the insurance company?”

  “You call the cops,” he tells me. “And you call the insurance company.”

  “But what do I tell them? I don’t want you to get in any trouble for this. Not when it isn’t really your fault.”

  “It’s a lot more my fault than it is yours. And you tell them whatever you feel comfortable telling them—as long as you don’t mention Anderson.”

  “Or you.”

  He shrugs. “Tell them what you need to, Jordan. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  He puts a finger to my mouth to stop me. “Thank you for being so cool about all of this. I’m really sorry. If there’d been another way, I would have taken it.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for racking you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  I laugh then. “No, I’m really not. You totally deserved it.”

  “I’m not even going to argue about that,” he says with a grin.

  Suddenly the door opens and Payton sticks her head through. “She ready to go?”

  Nic looks at me. “Yeah, she is.” Then, once Payton’s gone back into the garage, he sticks out his hand to shake mine. “It was good meeting you, Jordan Bass.”

  I stare at his hand for a few seconds, then I put my palm in his. “It was surprisingly good meeting you, too, Nic Medina.” On impulse, I stand on my tiptoes and press a kiss to Nic’s stubbly cheek.

  As I turn to walk away, I’m not sure which one of us is more surprised.

  Chapter 8

  Nic

  I make it to the address where I’m supposed to deliver the car at quarter ’til three. Heath followed me—he’s my ride back—and I gesture for him to park about a block down as I pull around to the warehouse’s rear door. No need to draw attention to the fact that I brought someone to watch my back. Then again, Anderson would be an idiot if he thought I came alone.

  Not that I expect him to be here—he’s nothing if not a chickenshit—so I’m not surprised when he’s nowhere around. My knock on the door is answered by a goon about twice the size of Gabe and with about half of his intelligence.

  “You’re late,” he tells me.

  “Actually, I’m about fifteen minutes early.” I nod toward the 370Z. “You taking delivery?”

  “Nah. Raul’s coming.”

  Raul again, huh? Mark that down as one more thing that doesn’t fucking surprise me about this mess. It sure as shit pisses me off, though. I don’t like the fact that I have to deal with him. And I sure as shit don’t like the way he was sniffing around Jordan last night.

  Oh, she might hav
e approached him about her car seats—and I figure she did that without knowing the exact nature of the business Raul is in—but I saw the way he looked at her last night. He definitely had something besides re-upholstering her seats in mind. Maybe it’s a good thing that she’s got no reason to contact him anymore…

  Big and Tall doesn’t offer me a seat while we wait and I don’t ask for one. Instead, I lean against the closest wall and prepare to be here awhile. Raul’s got a Napoleon complex a mile wide and he’ll make me wait as long as he can for no other reason than to piss me off and to show that he’s got power over me.

  I hope he enjoys the petty tyrant bullshit, because this is the only time that shit is going to fly with me. The next time I see him I’m going to make a point of stomping his ass into next week just on general principle.

  Five minutes pass and he doesn’t show up, so I pull out my phone. Fire off a text to Heath telling him to chill, ’cuz if I know him, he’s about two minutes away from calling in the fucking cavalry. Or storming the place himself. Patience isn’t exactly his strong suit. Not to mention he always expects the worst. Hard to blame him, though, with the shit he’s been through in his life.

  I send Jace a text, too, asking how he’s coming with the encrypted code. I need to know what’s in that file, need to know what kind of shitstorm I’m stepping into the middle of here. And I am stepping into it. Anderson came at my family and I don’t put up with that shit. He tore us apart once. No way in hell he’s doing it again. I’ll kill the son of a bitch first—or see him rot in the same fucking prison he sent me to.

  My final text is to Payton, asking her if she got Jordan home okay, but before I can hit send, Big and Tall barks, “Hey, no phones!” from the spinny chair he’s settled into across the room.

  I lift a brow. “You planning on coming over here and taking it from me?”

  “Fuck, yeah, I will.” He pushes to his feet, starts toward me.

  I shove my phone back into my pocket, then open my arms in a be-my-guest gesture, even as I keep my eyes locked with his. He gets within a couple feet of me, all lumbering girth and big attitude, like he thinks he’s actually got a shot at making me back down. But I just wait to see if he’s actually stupid enough to throw a punch.

  Turns out, he is.

  I duck under it, then plow my fist full on into his left kidney. He screams in pain even as he reaches his left arm out and tries to grab me. But I’m already behind him, slamming a second punch into his right kidney that has him falling to his knees. I pull my last blow, delivering a rabbit punch to the back of his head that knocks him face-first onto the floor but that doesn’t do any real damage. The guy’s a dick, but that’s not enough of a reason to actually injure him.

  Besides, his first scream did what I wanted it to—it got Raul out of hiding and down here on the main floor.

  “What the fuck, Nic?” he demands. “What’d Pablo ever do to you?”

  I shrug. “He tried to take my phone.”

  Raul shakes his head in disgust as he kicks Big and Tall on the side of his hip. “Pablo, you stupid gordo. Don’t you know who this is? Get your fat ass up, man, and find somewhere else to be!”

  It’s another strike against Raul in my book. If one of my crew pulls something stupid, I back them up anyway. We might talk in private later, get the matter sorted, but in front of others we put on a united front. Always. It’s called loyalty and Raul could use some.

  Then again, he’s working for Anderson because the cop pays him to. No use expecting loyalty from a guy who’ll sell out at the flash of a few crisp hundred dollar bills.

  “Sorry, Nic, there was no call for that kind of behavior. We’re both businessmen here, right?” He flashes a grin at me that only makes me more suspicious. This guy would plunge a knife between my ribs—or, more likely, my shoulder blades—without hesitation if he thought he could get away with it. After all, he came close once before.

  I know it, he knows I know it, so why the show, the pretense?

  It doesn’t make sense. More, it’s troublesome in a day full of trouble and I just don’t have patience left for any more. Not after seeing Lena fighting not to cry all last night, not after I scared the shit out of Jordan as badly as I did this morning…and not after I had to say goodbye to her this afternoon, long before I was ready to.

  “I’ve got the car outside,” I tell him, ignoring his question.

  His smile falters at my rudeness and for a second—just a second—I see the cold calculation beneath it. Good. I’ll take that over the bullshit any day.

  But then it’s gone and he’s clapping me on the back. “Excellent, my man! Let’s go check it out and then you can get outta here. Cool?”

  “Yeah.”

  Raul rolls his eyes as he leads me over to the big warehouse doors I parked in front of. “You’re a man of few words, huh, Nic? That’s okay. I get it.”

  I don’t answer as I wait for him to swing open the doors.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and pull it in and I’ll—” He freezes when he gets his first good look at the car. “Hey, I know this car.”

  Now I’m interested enough to talk. “Oh. Yeah? From where?” If things really went down the way she said last night, I didn’t expect him to admit to knowing Jordan.

  “It belongs to a hot redhead I met in the desert last night. She wanted me to help her out with the upholstery.” He looks a little disappointed as he bends to look in the car. “Yeah, same car. Huh. That sucks. I was looking forward to helping her out, if you know what I mean.”

  I know exactly what he means and it takes more of my self-control than I’d like to keep myself from dropping him where he stands. I don’t like him talking about Jordan like that. Fuck, I don’t even like him thinking about her like that.

  My lack of appreciation must show on my face, because Raul straightens up as soon as he glances my way. “Looks good,” he says after taking a quick tour around the car. “I’ll tell Anderson you delivered.”

  I nod, then start to back away while I’m still facing Raul. I’m a loose end, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Anderson is going to want to take care of the problem. Especially if the information in the car is as valuable as Jace thinks it is. I don’t think Raul is dumb enough to make a go for me right here—but I’ve been wrong before and I’m sure as shit not giving him my back as a target for a bullet.

  Heath pulls up, tires squealing, before I take more than a few steps. Obviously didn’t take my suggestion to park a couple blocks down—then again, he wouldn’t be Heath if he did.

  “Keep your phone on,” Raul calls to me as Heath leans over and throws open the passenger door of his Dodge Viper. “Anderson may have another job for you.”

  “This is a one-time deal,” I tell him as I climb inside. “And now it’s done.”

  “If you believe that, you’re a bigger pendejo than I thought.” Raul opens up the driver’s door of the 370Z. “Keep your phone on,” he says again, before starting the car up and pulling it into the warehouse.

  “Tell Anderson he can go fuck himself,” I say flipping Raul off as I pull my door closed. “I’m done.”

  Heath doesn’t give Raul a chance to say anything else. Instead, he punches the accelerator as he pulls back onto the street.

  “Any news from Jace?” I demand as I pull my phone out to check my messages.

  “He’s working on it. But it’s going to take a little while—he’s a miracle worker but he’s not God.”

  “I know. I just want this shit to be over with.”

  Heath changes lanes smoothly. “It’ll be over when it’s over.”

  I shoot him a look. “I thought I was supposed to be the Zen one in this friendship.”

  “That’s just what I let you think.” He takes a corner smooth and fast. “What are you going to do about Jordan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  It’s his turn to shoot me a look. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  I don’t say anythin
g else, because the truth is I do know what he means. And the only answer I’ve got is I have no fucking idea.

  —

  It’s four A.M. and I can’t sleep.

  Jace went home about an hour ago, saying he was going cross-eyed but that he’d work on the code more after he got a few hours of sleep. I know I should do the same, that today holds the promise of being a pretty fucking explosive day, but every time I close my eyes, Raul’s words circle in my head. I don’t like that he knows the car belongs to Jordan, like even less that he’d been looking forward to getting to know her. I took her registration and insurance info out before I brought the car over there, but still Anderson can find her with a few clicks of his mouse. That really doesn’t set easy on me.

  I don’t even know why I care so much. I mean, yeah, it sucks that she got pulled into this situation when she’s got nothing to do with it. But I’ve seen lots of people be in the wrong place at the wrong time and it hasn’t mattered to me. At least not the way it matters this time.

  I tell myself it’s not the stupid kiss on the cheek she gave me when she was leaving, that it’s not the way she felt under me when we were wrestling on that garage floor. But it’s a lie. Just like it’s a lie when I promise myself I’m not going to look her up when the sun goes up, that what I have to give her is better off delivered anyway.

  It’s a problem, how much I want this girl with the too big eyes and too skinny body. She’s just a little slip of a thing, and despite the red hair, not really my usual type. But there’s something about her that has me walking the floor in the middle of the night, something that has me trying to figure out how this whole thing is going to play out.

  The fact that I don’t know makes me a little crazy. Because before I start anything I always have a damn good idea of how it’s going to finish. But with her, I don’t have a fucking clue.

  Oh, I know how it should finish. With me walking away right now and never seeing her again. It’s the smart thing to do, the logical thing. But then, for most of my life people have been accusing me of being neither of those things. Usually, I’m happy to prove them wrong. But this time, with Jordan, there’s a part of me that wants desperately to forget smart and logical and just do what feels good.