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And the times Dad held her doing the same, her tiny little baby eyes had fixated on him, enamored while he rocked her against his chest. I longed for those days. The days where Dad was home, visiting us, and bonding with our precious baby girl.
My chest tightened, and I fought away the tears threatening to escape. When would this be easier? When would missing him become less like a bullet shredding through my flesh and more like the nuisance of a papercut?
I climbed into my seat, sighing. It hurt to even fucking sit, damnit. This was bad. I didn’t know how I was going to keep up with the renovations to get this place up and running by fall. Placing the key in the ignition, the engine turned over.
“Oh, no,” I groaned.
I tried again, and the telltale click of the starter not switching over sounded again. I tried a third time. Nothing. “Fucking fuck.” I didn’t have time for this today. I needed to get home, shower, soak in an ice bath and curl up in my bed while I looked out the open windows of my tiny home and out into a sanctuary of nature.
A fucked car was not on my agenda.
I grinded my teeth, climbing out of the car to grab my tools from the back seat. Maybe I should have stuck with the Mom-mobile until I could get this thing up and running with more reliability. I popped the hood open, already knowing it was most likely the alternator. The voltage gauge had been lower the past few days, which meant it wasn’t charging properly. I needed to replace it, but hadn’t come across one I needed. I’d have to check eBay tonight and get this shit rush ordered.
I glanced toward Shane’s shop. Or maybe he had one lying around? No, doubtful. I took the wrench to the alternator and removed it so that I could head over to the shop and see if Shane had anything to help revive this thing.
An engine revved behind me. It was loud, but small, and I knew it belonged to a motorcycle. I turned my head, peering over my shoulder toward the lot of the shop. There he was. Calder, the man I was coming to despise after only one thirty second encounter.
He continued revving it, and though his black sports helmet was covering his face, I knew he was glaring at me. He sat on his bike, his feet on the ground as he continued to open the throttle. Each time was as if he were speaking to me in morse code. Fuck off, he was saying. Stay away, he taunted.
He nodded once, then pressed raised his feet and rode off. As if satisfied by the way I was shaking in my boots. He thought I would comply with the warning. But there was something Calder didn’t know about me. This summer was about finding myself, about sticking up to my bullies, and learning to love myself again. I wouldn’t take his threats, and he’d learn that, too. I refused to listen.
Chapter Eleven
Shane
I sat in the shop’s office, sipping my coffee as I read the file before me. Tucker Nelson, trust fund son of Carlisle Nelson, would be in the shop with his vehicle tomorrow. The plan would be in motion soon. Hendrix would let out the air in his tires and pull the spark plugs while Parker was inside of the gentlemen's club keeping his eye on Tucker.
He’d be able to recommend the shop for the repairs, and even call his ‘buddy’ to tow the vehicle. Calder would show up with a tow truck, and bring it back here. When Tucker paid, we’d have access to bank accounts and anything else we needed to destroy his life from the inside out.
Our targets were never innocents. They were selected–hand picked–by me. People who quite literally got away with murder because of who and where they were on the social ladder. We were playing God, and sometimes that fucked with me. But when we had a dirty target like Nelson, it reminded me of why we did this.
Nelson’s weakness wasn’t the tits at the strip club like most thought. His dirty secrets came in the shape of young boys who disappeared when they grew too old for his tastes. The thoughts made me sick, and the videos I had as proof were even more disgusting.
He would die by my hands, eventually. But first, I’d have to rob him blind. Take the money he didn’t deserve, then his house. Eventually his wife and children would leave him. He’d be alone, vulnerable. Possibly on the verge of suicide when I was through with him. And then, he’d die the same horrible death as his victims.
The thing about my crew is we had no name to tie us to. No connections or weaknesses that would cause us a threat. Lionheart wasn’t a name whispered on the black web because I made sure it was kept that way. But me and my crew? We were something to fear.
I smirked, closing the file and powering up the computer to see if any locals had appointments today. The shop was a front, of course. So I always accepted walk-ins. The locals never paid, I always shrugged and told them it was the ‘local discount’. That my money came from the tourists and seasonal homeowners. And those bills that should have gone to them were paid off in laundered cash.
“Hello?”
My spine stiffened. The voice belonged to a woman, and not just any woman. I knew by the softness of it, the sweet tone that haunted me since I first saw her. I knew by the way my cock twitched, already responding to her voice like the loyal little fuck it was.
I stood from the desk, and headed for the door. Peaking my head out, I tried to stifle my groan. Thea was there, covered in sweat and grime. Her soft, heart-shaped face wore a sheet of exhaustion. Dark hair spilled out of the ponytail she was sporting, and she was wearing black leggings and a dingy gray t-shirt that was a size too big on her. In her hand was an alternator.
The sight was oddly distracting–enchanting even.
I cleared my throat to prepare it for any uneven steadiness. “You okay?” I asked, placating a smile on my face as I exited the office to approach.
She shook her head, waving the alternator around like it was less than a pound and not the fifteen I knew it to be. “No. My car is a fucking piece of shit.” Thea’s voice was elevated, and she tried to appear angry, but she was just too soft to take seriously. Almost as if she couldn’t find the bass in her chest to deliver the words with harshness.
She was like a sweet, soft field mouse. She could defend herself, even if she didn’t appear large and fearsome. But, she was the prey, and I was the predator. I was the Owl in the tree branches waiting to swoop down and dig my talons into the underside of her belly.
I raised a brow, pointing my head to the piece of the vehicle in her hand. “Usually the alternator is hooked to the battery. That’s how your car starts.”
Her mouth dropped, and she stared at the alternator. Then she turned back to me, and stuck out her tongue. “I know that, thank you! It’s dead. I need to revive it until I can order a new one.” She glanced around the shop. “Could I borrow some tools to get it running so I can get home?”
I crossed my arms, the space between us suddenly not enough. I couldn’t let her know that she amused me. Stepping back, I nodded toward the work bench. “Help yourself. You really shouldn’t drive it home, though. What if it kicks out in the woods? You’ll be stuck with no service, and no ride home.” My tone dropped low and warning. The authority I used with the guys came out as I frowned.
