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And if he did, he’s going to regret it.
Chapter Three
Dom
* * *
Tess lives in a run-down little ranch-style house in an older neighborhood crammed full of houses. The narrow driveway she parks in has weeds spreading through every one of its many cracks.
“You’re not coming in,” she says when we reach the little front porch.
I stand to the side as she unlocks the handle on the front door with a key and goes inside.
“Zee, come here!” she yells, her no-nonsense tone sending a wave of guilt through me.
What if my wallet fell out of my pocket? I don’t want to get this kid in deep shit with his mom if he didn’t actually steal it.
When he pushes the rickety screen door open and looks at me, though, his eyes widen with a look I know well. Busted.
Tess follows him out, her eyes narrowed as she studies him. “Don’t even consider bullshitting me. Did you steal this guy’s wallet?”
He looks away and Tess explodes.
“Are you fucking serious? I raised you better than that! Fifteen years old and lifting people’s wallets? I stood up for you and you made me a liar. Give it back to him and enjoy this last look at the outside world because you’re grounded until hell freezes over.”
She turns her fiery gaze on me and I stop myself from backing up a step. “How much money was in it?”
“Five fifty.”
“Five dollars and fifty cents, or?—”
“Five hundred fifty dollars.”
The kid gives me a sharp look. “Four fifty. Nine fifties.”
I remember Lauren and the pukey plant. “That’s right, it was four fifty.”
“Did you use two fifties to wipe your ass?” He sneers and I don’t know whether to laugh or balk. Smart-ass remarks are usually my domain.
“Keep your eye on the ball, Zane,” Tess snaps. “You’re in deep shit. Go get his wallet.”
Zane locks eyes with his mom, his expression hesitant. Tess’s gaze darkens.
“Where is it?” she demands.
I can’t help sympathizing with the terror in the kid’s eyes. I’m not afraid to throw down my gloves and fight anyone on the ice, but even at my age, I wouldn’t want to piss off my mom.
“I’ve got it.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “But there’s only thirty-two dollars left.”
The color drains from Tess’s face. I jump in, hoping to prevent bloodshed.
“I don’t care about the money. I just want my driver’s license.”
She silences me with a death glare. “He’ll be repaying every dollar he took.” She turns her fiery forest-green eyes back to her son. “Where the hell is it? Did you buy those shoes I saw you looking at on my phone?”
“No, I...” He wants to shrivel up and disappear, I can tell.
“Zane Patrick,” she snaps. “Tell me where that money is right now.”
