With one last gun check—a habit more than anything else—I lock everything back up into the safe and head for bed. My mind is still spinning, in search of the way into Luke Boone’s life. I have only a few shots at this before accidental run-ins become too much of a coincidence.

Another glimpse past my bedroom blinds finds him now stretched out on his back, a flurry of cars racing across his television screen. His arm is wrapped around his dog’s body, and he’s stroking its belly with slow, affectionate movements.

When I look at him, all I see is just another twenty-four-year-old guy. A guy I might meet at a party or at the club. A guy my friends and I would definitely notice, would probably drool over. Who I’d gladly give my number to. A guy I’d go home with if I had one too many drinks and needed a release.

A guy I wouldn’t believe could be involved in something that left two children without a father.

But that’s the thing with so many of the worst kinds of criminals. They don’t wear signs, they don’t don a uniform. They’re hiding in plain sight. It’s my job to reveal Luke for what he truly is, which will reveal the man we’re really after—his uncle.

But how?

Women. Dogs. Cars. Three things that seem to grab Luke’s attention.

I’m an attractive, smart, confident woman—you have to be both smart and confident in a job like mine or you could end up dead—so I have that going for me. You also have to be a little crazy, but I hide that well. Maybe the issue isn’t me; maybe it’s the surroundings.

I need to find a better place to meet. A place he can’t possibly miss me.

Yes.

I hit “one” on my phone’s speed dial. Warner picks up almost immediately.

“Hey, I think I have an idea.” I smile. “But it involves messing around with that beautiful car of mine.”

Chapter 3

LUKE

“Why the hell did R&S just drop a ’78 Corvette in our parking lot?” Miller hollers, bounding through the office door like a grizzly bear about to attack.

“Because I asked them to.” R&S, the auto body shop we refer all of our clients to, finished with the car early and offered to bring it here for no charge. I wasn’t going to say no to that.

“Last I checked, we don’t run a storage lot.”

As much as I want to match his angry tone, I temper mine with a smile, knowing my lax attitude will get under Miller’s skin more. “I forgot to tell you: I’m expanding our business.”

“Oh really . . . And does Rust know about this?”

“He knows what he needs to know.” I pause. “Relax. I’ll have it off the lot by the end of the day.”

I get Miller’s signature nose flare in return, and then his voice drops to a low hiss. “Rust has been very clear about that coming to this doorstep. This garage runs one hundred and ten percent clean. You need to get it off this property now or your uncle will have your head.”

Miller seems to have jumped to the conclusion that I’m into something below board. Quite presumptuous of him. I could save him all this stress and just tell him the truth—that the car is a legal side project I’ve been working on with my friend Jesse for some extra cash.

Cash that I can say I’ve earned.

I’m more curious about what Miller knows of Rust’s “other” business. Is it more than I do? I know so little that it wouldn’t be hard. But it pisses me off to no end that this fucking asshole might know something that I don’t.

I lock my hands behind my head and grin. “Nope. I don’t think I will.”

Miller doesn’t waste another second, charging for the phone. He lifts the old-school receiver up and points it toward me in warning. “Don’t make me call Rust down here.”

I shrug. “It’s almost lunch. I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite with him.”

A sneer curls his lips as he punches the keys with his fat index finger. I don’t even bother to hide my eye roll as he glares at me, earpiece jammed against the side of his head. “Rust, Miller . . . you need to get down here . . . It’s urgent . . . About what?” He shoots another scowl at me. “Your nephew, that’s what . . .’kay.” He slams down the receiver.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have anger-management issues?” It thrills me to no end that I can actually say that now. For the year that I was working in the garage, Miller rode my back every day, making my life hell. Now that Rust has moved me inside, making my future position as manager and eventual owner of this garage all the more obvious, Miller can’t get away with the same crap. But he still tries.

“I’m actually going to enjoy watching him hand your ass to you.”

“What is it exactly that you have against me, Miller? Is it that I’m younger? Better looking? Smarter?”

“Have you ever actually worked a day in your life?” he snaps back.

I pretend I don’t notice that the tension in the office has grown to choking proportions as I sort through invoices and answer customer calls, ignoring him. When I spot Rust’s navy Porsche Cayenne pull up outside the window twenty minutes later, I throw a lazy salute and stroll past Miller, glad to get away from him.

I find Rust standing with Tabbs and Zeke, two of his longest-standing mechanics here, hovering over the classic, his fingers sliding across the killer paint job that R&S completed for me.

“Hot damn, Nurse Boone!” Tabbs bellows, using the stupid nickname they slapped me with one week into working here. “This for you?”