“I’ll walk you downstairs. The shop is closed on Sundays, but Bax will be around.” I trusted my best friend to keep his trap shut and not give her a hard time, but I felt better, more like a gentleman, if I escorted her through the cavernous monster of the garage. I still had some chivalry inside me, even if it was buried under miles and miles of other, harder things.

I didn’t bother with a shirt or shoes, just took her hand and guided her down the metal stairs. It was cold on the garage floor since I was only half dressed, and I noticed one of the big metal bay doors was open. Bax’s Hemi ’Cuda was up on the rack but he was nowhere to be seen. I was going to just lead Brysen through the open bay when she suddenly pulled to a stop and yanked her hand free of my loose grip. I was going to ask her what in the hell she was doing when she purposely veered off in the direction where all of the boosted cars were parked along the back wall.

The nondescript fleet of cars Bax had collected for me were patiently waiting on their owners to pay up. In the dark, with the low interior lights, they were hard to see. However, with the bay doors open, and in the bright light of the morning, it was much more evident that the mismatched collection didn’t belong with Bax’s works of art and restoration or his high-end repairs.

“Brysen?” Her name was a question but she was ignoring me and moving with clear intent right toward a white Lexus SUV that was parked amongst the other collateral.

It wasn’t the nicest car of the group. It wasn’t the worst either. I couldn’t figure out why she had sought it out like a heat-seeking missile until she turned on me and her eyes went from a pretty summer day to a rolling, thunderous storm at sea.

“Why do you have this car?”

I looked at her and tried to decide what I should say. I could lie, tell her it was just waiting to be fixed, but I had the distinct impression she already knew more about why it was here than I wanted her to.

I crossed my arms over my bare chest and lowered my eyebrows at her. I could do flinty and cold as well as any blue blood.

“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours, Bry.”

She let her mouth fall open and I saw a hot red run up her neck and flood into her face. She stalked toward me and jabbed the end of a finger into the center of my chest. I had a bruise there from the night before, so the jab hurt and made me scowl at her even harder.

“That’s my dad’s car, Race. The car that is supposedly in the shop, which made him demand my car yesterday. So yeah, it very much is my business why you have it here.”

I took a step back, and out of the corner of my eye saw Bax come out of his office. His face was hard, and even with the distance separating us I saw how dark his gaze was as it locked on our conflict. Bax wouldn’t let anyone mess with his operation and he didn’t care if the threat was a mostly harmless pretty college girl.

I grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her out into the front lot where the BMW was parked next to the Stang.

“You know what I do, Bry. Don’t pretend like you don’t, because now it might be a little too close to home.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at me. “My dad doesn’t gamble. He’s a computer programmer, for Christ sakes.”

All kinds of people gambled, and I didn’t want to tell her, but computer people were some of the most compulsive. They always thought they could beat the odds, outsmart the rules. Because I couldn’t forget, even if I wanted to, I pulled up the image of a middle-aged man, frantic and begging as he gave me the last of his life savings and retirement plan in order to get in on a private game at Spanky’s a week ago. He was into me for over three hundred thousand and the Lexus wouldn’t even touch his debt. I had no idea he was Brysen’s dad, and frankly it didn’t matter. My job was to take money, not save families or fathers from themselves.

“Everyone gambles on something. Football, horses, cars, with their lives, with cheap sex and dangerous drugs, with love.” I looked at her hard. “I didn’t know he was your dad. I don’t usually ask names and personal details. I just take the cash and make the wager or let them have at a table.”

She blew out a breath and her eyes flicked from me back to the open bay.

“Give the car back, Race.” Her voice was low, shaky. I knew she was more in shock about the revelation about her dad than the fact that I had taken the car from him. That didn’t mean she understood, or that she would forgive me, but at least I knew the real reason she looked like she wanted to throw up on me.

I shook my head slowly and let her see the real regret in my gaze as I watched her. “I can’t do that.”