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Not for the first time, Jace inwardly cursed the gang leader. Dylan was a decent kid. Lance had ensnared him into the gang by buying him a sleek blue racing bike that cost nearly fifty thousand dollars. No way could Dylan afford the motorcycle.
Lance promised Dylan he could pay it off in small installments.
Lance had not told Dylan the installments would include using the bike to steal for him.
“What about selling the bike?” Jace asked. “It’s worth a lot of money. I can find you a less expensive one.”
Never had he seen the teen more miserable. “I don’t own the title. Lance is on the title as well. Can’t sell unless he signs off and he won’t...”
His voice trailed off. Dylan looked like a fly trapped by a hungry spider, resigned to a fate of being utterly consumed by the spider. The kid looked around, dropped his voice.
“Can I trust you, Jace?”
He nodded, not wanting to push it.
“Trust you not to tell the others?”
“What’s wrong? You can, Dylan.”
“I feel horrible about tonight... The woman we stole the jewels from tonight—she’s my cousin, Kara.”
Jace pretended to be surprised. “Kara? Your cousin, the woman I used to date?”
Dylan hung his head. “It’s my fault Lance targeted her. He knew I worked for her, heard me talking about that diamond necklace. I don’t think he knows we’re related, though.”
Dylan rubbed his face. “I feel so bad. She’s been terrific, giving me a job, cutting me a break and now, I went and stole from her.”
“Keep your voice down,” Jace warned, glancing around. “I understand. You didn’t have much choice, Dylan.”
Dylan picked up his cell phone. “Kara’s more than my cousin. She’s a friend. She understands me. She knows I love video games and she plays them on her phone, too. I even gave her the link to one that Big Mike sent me. Kara loves movies about royalty and kings and queens.”
He showed Jace the game he’d downloaded about a prince trying to rescue a princess from a dragon and a burning tower.
“Kara’s cool. She’s always giving me a monthly bonus, trying to help.”
He handed Dylan back his cell. The kid looked miserable.
“I took photos of the inside of the store, told Lance about the layout of the shop. Lance said she’d be covered by insurance. It doesn’t matter. I still stole from her.”
A conscience was a welcome sign. Guilt. Dylan wasn’t like the other kids, who didn’t care about the consequences for the people they robbed.
“Something will work out. Believe me, it will.”
More than that, he couldn’t say.
Dylan didn’t answer, only stared at his boots, looking morose. Jace sighed. “Why don’t you join your friends? Sounds like they’re having fun.”
The teenager scoffed. “All they care about. They live for the thrill. They’re not my friends. I haven’t had a real friend since my best friend, Conner, died when we lived in the old neighborhood. Sometimes I think Kara hired me because of what happened to Conner.”
Interest pricking, Jace studied him. “Why would she care?”
But Dylan shook his head. “Long story. Jace, I have to get out of this. I have to find a way out. My mom doesn’t need to worry about me anymore. The stress can make the cancer worse.”
If Lance will let you go. A chill raced down his spine. “Worry about that tomorrow. Go have some fun.”
He shoved at Dylan. “Go on, kid.”
The tension in his chest eased a little as Dylan went into the other room. Dylan was right. He had to get out of this gang. But he was a material witness and Jace knew Big Mike and Lance wouldn’t let him go so easily. The gang was like a roach motel—once you checked in, there was no leaving.
