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Jace’s neighbor descended the stairs. His gaze was fixated on her bare leg, the skirt riding up almost to her panties. Biting her lip, Kara pulled down her skirt, feeling as if cockroaches crawled on her skin. The guy looked like a nerd, but something in his eyes hinted he was slimy.
Her stomach roiled. Kara looked away.
“Look, man, appreciate you keeping an eye on my place. Me and the old lady are taking a short run up to Sugarland. We’re running late, so I’ll catch up with you.” Jace waved a hand at his neighbor.
“Sure you don’t need help?” Oscar eyed her the way she’d seen hungry people eyeball steak at restaurants.
“We’re fine,” Kara called out.
“You’re more than fine, mama,” Oscar said. “In fact, you’re...”
Jace started the engine, drowning out Oscar’s words.
Now she had to go through with this or she’d look like a scared princess too high-maintenance to ride with Jace. Even through the helmet’s tinted visor, she could see the pure lust on Oscar’s face. Something about him made her more uncomfortable than riding on a motorcycle.
Isn’t it always the quiet ones you have to be aware around?
Kara wrapped her arms around Jace tightly and leaned against him.
Jace backed up and then took off, at a slower pace than she suspected he normally drove. The seat beneath her felt comfortable and vibrated with the purring engine. Still, she shut her eyes. Opened them. If they were going to wipe out, she wanted to see what was going on. If they were going to crash, she wanted to try to grab some control.
Even though she felt none.
But Jace took it slow and easy to the address she’d given him.
Kara’s aunt Wanda never visited family. Since Dylan had begun working for Kara, she’d only seen her aunt when she visited the house. Then, when Bruce, Wanda’s husband, started leering at her, Kara stopped visiting.
Wanda’s house was far more modest than the luxurious, waterfront home her first husband had owned. Her aunt hugged Kara after opening the door. Kara hugged back gently, mindful of the bruises probably on the woman’s arms. Her anger surged at the thought of Bruce beating her aunt, but she managed to keep her emotions at bay.
Inside the living room, Kara perched on the edge of an armchair and studied the woman who had always welcomed the neighborhood kids with lemonade and cookies after school. In her late fifties, Wanda had a haggard look, with pain time-stamped on her face. Her long dark hair was gone, replaced by a serviceable cut. Despite the heat, she wore long sleeves.
Not only had Kara’s family been torn apart by the accident, but Dylan’s had also been damaged.
Too many people suffered because I had to take the car out without my parents.
Family photographs lined the walls, along with a photograph of Conner and Dylan at a Little League game. Bile rose in Kara’s throat.
Wanda gripped her hands tightly in her lap, anxiety clear in her dark eyes. Her red-and-white polka-dot shirt was bright and lively, a contrast to the shoulders slumped within the clothing. Gone was the plump woman who looked healthy and happy. Wanda had lost weight and had an air of desperation.
Jace explained they were searching for Dylan because he was in danger. He studied Dylan’s mother with an intensity she’d witnessed previously that reminded her of a cop scrutinizing a possible suspect. Jace wasn’t law enforcement. He’d make a good cop. Too bad he’d chosen a different path in life.
His rugged charm and quiet determination reminded her of the old Jace, the man who hesitated at nothing to acquire what he wanted, especially if that something helped someone else.
As he finished, Wanda grew even paler. Her hands twisted in her lap, as if she didn’t know what to do with them.
“We need your help to find Dylan before the gang members do,” Jace added. “If he stole the jewels, and I am certain he did, he’s in extreme danger.”
But Wanda shook her head, her mouth compressed as if holding back secrets. Kara knew Jace would get nothing further out of her. Her motherly instinct to protect her son at all costs clashed with the desire to trust them. Wanda needed to be assured.
Kara joined her on the sofa, slid her hand over the woman’s trembling palm.
“Aunt Wanda, I should have seen Dylan’s desperation and given him a loan. I had promised him a large raise once I sold the Vandermeer jewels. I didn’t realize he couldn’t wait, because you are his entire world. I’m so sorry.”
Jace cut in, his voice direct. “Does Dylan have any friends upstate who might help him sell the jewels? Or relatives with connections to jewelers who wouldn’t question where the jewels came from?”
“No. I don’t know.” Wanda wrenched her hands out of Kara’s. “My Dylan is a good boy. He wouldn’t do anything wrong.”
Jace came closer, his manner and tone gentle. “Mrs. Moore, we need to find him, fast, before the bad guys do.”
