by Evie Monroe
Cullen said, “Calm down, Jet. If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who fucked up on the last one. Remember the Ferrari?”
We all shifted our eyes from our beers, cigarettes, and grease-stained fingernails to Jet. We sure as hell all remembered the Ferrari. He was our tagger for the job but fucked up. He hadn’t stuck my tracking device on the car firmly enough, and it fell off. Who knows how much money he torched on that dumbass move?
Miraculously, Jet shut up for once in his life. He looked down at his knuckles and leaned back in his chair.
“Yeah. We’re not actually having a really good month when it comes to the business,” Cullen said to us, scanning around the room. “Our overseas clients don’t want to hear excuses.”
“So what happened with the S-Class?” Nix asked.
Zain gave them all the rundown. When he finished, they all looked at him for a minute, not saying anything. Then Nix ran both hands down his face and shook his head. “Shit,” he breathed. “So all we did to avoid them finding out about Slade was for nothing.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“So, what? Was it that kid?” Drake asked, dropping his beer bottle on the table.
“Nah, that’s the thing,” I said. “They’ve been tracking us hot and heavy for a while. I got the feeling the kid really didn’t know anything about what Nix and Jet were doing out there. He just saw the colors and started firing. Someone else must’ve seen something.”
Jet took a drag of his cigarette. “You been keeping an eye on that kid?”
I smirked at him. “Yeah. No thanks to you.”
He ignored the dig. “So what has he said? Anything?”
“Yeah. A lot, actually. He still seems pretty tight with wanting to be a Fury. But he did tell me a few things. Like that there’s a new Veep, named Scar, who’s been ordering them all to keep a watch on us. According to the kid, we’re their number one target. This dude’s pretty hot on watching us and finding a way to take us out. So Joel’s been giving them intel on us for the past week.”
Jet shook his head. “Of course they are. They’ve got nothing better to do. The kid tell you why he wants to be a part of that shit show?”
I shrugged ‘cause I wasn’t sure myself. “Looks like he’s just looking for a place to fit in. He’s kind of naïve. Wants a family, and a friend suggested it to him. I get the feeling he went for it because it was all he knew. He doesn’t seem to be married to the thought, though.”
“Where is he now?” Nix asked.
“I let him go back home. Put a tracker on his phone so I could see where he was and record his conversations,” I explained. “Hasn’t done much on his phone though.”
Jet squinted at me. “You just let him go? What the fuck for?”
I held up a hand to him. “Hey. In case you didn’t notice. I’m not the fucking babysitter. If you wanted to keep him under lock and key twenty-four-seven, you could’ve volunteered to watch him last night instead of going on your booty call.”
He crossed his arms. “Maybe I should have. I sure as hell wouldn’t have just let him go!”
“You’re the one who wanted to turn him to our side. Keeping him on a leash ain’t the way to do that, Jet. You know that,” I muttered.
Jet glared at me but said nothing. Good. Because he was about five seconds away from getting my fist in his face.
“All right, guys, break it up,” Cullen muttered, looking at me. “This isn’t good. How do we know we can trust that this kid is giving us the straight shit? Maybe he’s giving us bad intel.”
“He could be, but I doubt it.” I held up my phone. “Look. I’m monitoring him through his phone. If he does anything out of line, we know where to find him. I made it clear we weren’t going to let him go. I think he got the picture. He’s scared.”
“Yeah. But we gotta know for sure,” Nix put in.
Cullen hitched his chin at me. “Can you get on the kid? See if you can shore up what side he’s on and if he’s just playing with us?”
I could feel my eyebrows narrowing, trying to figure out how the fuck to do that. But whatever, once again, Hart to the rescue, taking care of the little newb. I guess if Jet took over this job the kid would’ve already gone running back to the Fury camp, and we’d be looking at all-out war by now.
So I’d do it. Besides, it’d give me a chance to see that spitfire of a sister again. “I’ll try,” I said. Ignoring Jet.
When Cullen adjourned the meeting, I went out to my bike, checking my phone to see what Joel had been up to. Not much. He’d posted a close-up picture of his bicep, baring another kind of pathetic tattoo with the caption: Good workout today.
Well, that was good. Our little boy was behaving himself.
I quickly rang his number. He answered on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Joel? It’s Hart.”
“Oh. Hey.”
I could sense him stiffening. Good. He needed to have respect for us. It was better than his earlier tough guy act, where he’d called us some pretty fucked up names.
“What’s up?”
“I told you to be ready ‘cause I was gonna need you,” I said, grabbing my helmet. “Well . . . I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Sure. I’m at my house.” Yes, he was. I knew that already. “You want to come by here? My sister’s been on a rampage, yelling at me every two seconds. I need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Yeah. That sounds good. Be there in five,” I said, hanging up.
I wasn’t looking forward to dragging shit out of the Fury prospect, but for some reason, I couldn’t wait to see that feisty girl.
Chapter Ten
Charlotte
On my way to the shower, I could hear Joel pumping iron. That was fine. Healthy. I was glad he was doing that and not anything that could get him in trouble.
But he had to clean his room. And . . . we still needed to talk about the gun. I wanted him to surrender it to whoever he’d gotten it from. While I showered, I decided that the best way to do that would be to offer him some kind of incentive. Like, if he got a real job and got rid of the gun, I’d let him stay at my place rent-free, no questions asked. If he kept things in order, I wouldn’t go snooping through his room. That kind of thing.
Listening through the door to his heavy breathing and the weights clinking together, I grabbed a post-it and wrote, LET’S TALK!, then stuck it on the door. We were both so busy with different schedules these days, that was how we communicated.
Then I went back to my bedroom to get ready for work. I had the late shift, which meant I’d be at the vets until midnight, so I got into my pink scrubs, threw my hair into a ponytail, and went down to the kitchen to get some dinner.
As I walked down the hall, I heard the shower running. Then I realized my post-it note wasn’t on his door. My eyes scanned to the threadbare carpet and saw it crumpled on the ground.
So, that pretty much answered that question. He was still pissed at me.
Fine, I thought. I’d just go to work. Before I left, though, I’d make him promise to stay home. He had to. He couldn’t keep going out, night after night. Wasn’t he exhausted?
When the water shut off, I waited for him in the hall eating a Hot Pocket. He appeared in the doorway, towel around his waist, his hair hanging down over his eyes and water droplets on his bony shoulders. I pounced.
“You’re staying home tonight!” I ordered.
“Jesus!” He took a step back. Then he rolled his eyes and pushed past me, toward his room. At least he smelled good.
“I’m serious!” I shouted after him.
His answer? He slammed the door in my face. I let out a groan as I clenched my hands into fists. So this was how he was going to play it. My little brother, who never used to hold a grudge longer than ten minutes, was now giving me the silent treatment. Damn him. That was my tactic.
I went back to the kitchen, finished up my Hot Pocket and lemonade by myself. Then I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. As I was
gargling, I heard the sound of a motorcycle coming closer.
Oh. Hell. No. Not happening. No way was I—
Before I could make a move, Jojo’s door opened. Now fully dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt, he strode purposefully, with his head down, to the door, like he was trying to avoid someone.
Me, of course.
“Hold it!” I shouted at him, the words garbled because I hadn’t yet spit.
He didn’t stop. He ignored me, throwing open the door and letting it slam behind him.
Who the fuck did he think he was?
I rinsed my toothpaste out, threw my toothbrush in the sink, then raced out after him. I tore open the door and dashed down the stairs, just in time to see Joel glance at me, then tear off into the night.
The guy he was with? The same hot, dirty guy as before. The one that made my insides do all kinds of crazy dances. I ran into the street, holding my hands out to block the guy from going any farther.
Really, it was a pathetic attempt at a blockade. The street was so wide he could’ve easily swerved either way around me. But he didn’t. He stopped, his motorcycle roaring underneath him.
“What do you think you’re doing? Where are you taking him?”
He tapped his ear and shrugged, then cut the engine on his bike. “Couldn’t hear you, baby. What?”
I fisted my hands on my hips. “Don’t act all innocent! You know very well I told you not to come around here and to leave Jojo alone!”
He rose to his feet and lifted his leg up, then stepped off his bike toward me. “I know you said that. But I think Jojo told you that he’s old enough to make his own decisions.”
I shook my head adamantly. “What the fuck do you know? You didn’t raise him on your own since he was twelve, did you?”
He didn’t answer. That amused smile threatened to come back, with those killer dimples. I steeled myself against it and added, “Did you?”
He held out his hands in surrender. “No, I did not, Charlotte.”
My entire body tingled at the way he said my name. So sensually and sexually, it made me wish he’d say it again. Which was definitely not how I needed to react right now. And how did he know my name? Was Joel talking about what a no-fun stick-up-the-ass I was?
“Well,” I said, lifting my chin. “Then you’ll kindly butt out of our family business.”
He laughed. “I would. But in case you haven’t noticed, your brother is already gone.”
I whirled around. He did have a point. The parking lot was empty. I’d thought that if he was going to go anywhere, he’d need this man to lead him. “Where did he go?”
“I know,” he said, like it was a big secret he was holding over me.
“And . . .? Are you going to tell me?”
He tapped the side of his head, pretending to think.
I scowled at him. “You want your balls kneed again?”
“Fine,” he sighed. “I asked him to come to our clubhouse. I need to discuss some business with him.”
“Business? What kind of business?” He just shook his head. Oh, so it was top secret, motorcycle-man business. How stupid. Like I cared. I checked my phone. “Well. Will he be back by his curfew? Ten o’clock. I have to go to work?”
Then he really did start to laugh. “Your brother has a curfew?”
I nodded. “What’s wrong with that?”
“He’s nineteen, Charlie. An adult.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn’t care if he was fifty, he was still my responsibility, when it hit me, just what he’d called me. “Did you just call me . . . Charlie?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with it?”
“Yes! Don’t call me that . . . what is your name? Hart? What is that short for? Heartless?”
“It’s my road name,” he said. “Better than my real name. I like Charlie. You definitely look like a Charlie.”
I snorted. “Well, you look like a stupid motherfucker. Can you please tell me where I can go to find my brother?” I said reached into the pockets of my pants for my keys. “Because I need to be at work in an hour—”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to go down there and bring him home?”
I nodded. “Why?”
“You think he’ll ever forgive you if you do that?”
I froze, my hands on my hips. I was so annoyed, I was only half-listening. “Do what?”
“Show up to our club like his mommy and drag him home,” he said with a laugh.
I sighed. He did have a point. I was already on thin ice with my little brother. I didn’t want him to hate me any more than he already did. He might never come home and then I’d really be alone. “What do you suggest?”
He thought for a minute. “How about this? You let him live his life. And I’ll get his ass home by . . . not ten. He’s not a little kid. Say, midnight?”
I stared at him. “You will? Seriously?”
He held up his hand in an oath, then held it out for me. “I promise. It’s a deal.”
I reached over to shake it, but then I remembered something. “I have to take him his pill. He has asthma. If he doesn’t take it every day, he could have a bad attack.”
He nodded. “All right. Give it to me. I’ll make sure he takes it.”
“You will?” This seemed like a lot to entrust to a guy I barely knew who clearly was not health or safety minded, considering the death trap he’d chosen as his form of transportation. Still, I didn’t have much of a choice. “You understand it’s a life or death thing? It’s not optional.”
“Yeah. Got it.” He didn’t sound dismissive. That was refreshing.
I pointed to my apartment. “It’s just inside.” I started to run into the apartment with him right behind me. “And you are sure you’ll get him to come home, at midnight?”
“Yeah.”
I shoved open the door to the apartment and rushed in, the animals jumping at my feet in excitement. As I jogged to the bathroom, I called, “Close the door so the animals won’t get out, please.”
I reached into the medicine cabinet and found the bottle, peeled off the lid and shook a single tablet into my palm. I heard the door click closed.
Good. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.
I set the bottle down on the shelf and grabbed one of Jojo’s inhalers right beside it. He hadn’t had to use it in ages, but that was when he was taking his pills regularly. Better to be safe than sorry.
I whirled around to head back into the living room and ran straight into bulging pectorals, a complete wall of a man. I breathed in sharply. He smelled of soap. And leather. And man, all man.
I hadn’t expected him to come this far into my home. My eyes trailed up to meet his. All the air left the room, making it impossible to breathe. I lifted the pill.
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll wrap it in a tissue for you.”
Anything to avoid those eyes of his.
I plucked a tissue out of the box on the counter and set about my work, trying to ignore his presence. He was so close; I could turn my head and be near enough to kiss him. I unfolded the tissue and carefully wrapped up the pill, my fingers trembling the whole time.
He had to notice. Him? He was as cool as ever, his breathing slow, deep, and methodical, his posture relaxed and devil-may-care as he slumped against the doorjamb.
I held the nicely wrapped package up to him in my palm.
He just stared at it. No . . . he wasn’t staring at the pill. He was staring at me, into my eyes, with an intensity that made my knees weak. Eyes holding mine, he slowly reached out, took the pill and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans.
This was my apartment. And he’d instantly made me feel like I was the guest here. I gnawed on my lip and held up the inhaler. “Can you give this to him, too? Just in case?”
He took it in his hand, then backed against the wall and looked down. “Fuck.”
I followed his line of sight. Mags, my giant white bunny, was running circles around his boots on the embarra
ssingly dirty shag carpet.
Oh, my gosh. Big man scared of a little rabbit. I crouched down to pick her up, then put my nose to hers to say hello.
“It’s nothing, it’s just Mags,” I said, holding her up for an introduction. “Want to say hello?”
The corner of his mouth rose in disgust. “No.”
I stroked her soft fur. Sometimes, petting my bunny was all I needed to relax me. But suddenly, Hart looked about as uptight as I’d ever seen him. “She must like you. She doesn’t usually give greetings to people.”
He looked down the hall, where Opie eyed him suspiciously from the top of the sofa. “What the fuck, are you running a zoo around here?”
“You don’t like animals?” I asked as I kissed the top of Mag’s head, crouched, and set her free.
He scratched his jaw and pocketed the inhaler in his jacket.
“Not at all.”
Talk about a deal-breaker. I always said to myself that if I ever wanted to settle down, the guy would have to love animals. This guy was wrong for me in so many ways.
Not that I imagined a man like Hart ever wanting to settle down.
“Really? What do you have against them?”
He hitched a shoulder like he hadn’t thought about it, took a step toward the door, and Mags followed him, doing her rounds so close to his boots that she nearly tripped him. He stopped. “Fucking insane rat. You like tripping over them like this?”
I bristled. “I don’t trip.” And to myself. She’s not a rat.
He chuckled a little to himself, then turned to leave. “Whatever. I’ll have Joel back at midnight.”
I crossed my arms. “Good. See that you do. I swear, I’ll come after you if you don’t.”
He rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the threat, and crossed the living room, scanning the ground to keep from tripping over the animals, curious by his presence.
“Oh! Make sure he takes it with food!” I called after him. He kept going, opening the door and stepping outside, so I found myself rushing to catch up to him. This was important info; if Jojo took it on an empty stomach, it was liable to make him sick. As I lunged forward, Mags got in my way, and I ended up sidestepping to avoid her, which made me knock my shin into the coffee table.
