Charlie took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching them watch him as he made them wait for it. “I’ve got it all figured out already. But it takes three people, which is the only reason I haven’t done it myself. Don’t have many people around that I can trust, anymore.”
Shepherd hadn’t let go of the arms of his chair. “Go on,” he said, graciously, all things considered.
“You ever heard of the Tire Irons? The biker gang?”
Shepherd and Ginny exchanged a look and shrugged in unison.
“They got this logo—it’s like a skull and bones except it’s a skull and tire irons—on the back of their vests? You see that when you’re driving around?”
Shepherd, in fact, hadn’t seen that logo when he was driving around. He had, instead, seen it when he snuck into a house carrying a baseball bat. Shepherd and Ginny exchanged looks again, but these were looks not of confusion, but rather of thinly veiled terror.
“They’re the mark. But that’s as many details as I’m willing to share until I know you’re on board. It’s my heist, you understand.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the table, reached for another without even a breath between. “If you’re worried about experience, I can assure you both. This ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve been planning heists since before cell phones could fit in your pocket. And my track record speaks for itself—isn’t that right, lawyer lady?”
Any hope Ginny might have had about crimes versuscrimeswas gone from her pretty face. The face that Charlie winked at. She turned to Shepherd, her eyes wet again, and he sighed and rubbed her shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Cardello. But I think we’ve heard all we need to hear. You’ll have to find two other, uh, teammates.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows. He pointed his new cigarette at Ginny. “That right?”
She nodded, lip between her teeth. “As your attorney, Mr. Cardello, I must warn you against perpetrating such a heist. Not only is there danger to your freedom if the law catches you, but there’s danger to your life if the bikers do. I can also promise that what you’ve told me will be kept quiet under client confidentiality. And as your friend, thank you for trying to help me find a way to save my mom. But I can’t heist scary bikers, Mr. Cardello. That just isn’t who I am.”
Shepherd shook his head. That was definitely not who either of them were. They were pizza people who worked in a pun shop.
No, pun people in a pizza shop.
Both.
Either.
He stood up, creaking again, and reached for Ginny’s hand. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you,” he said, not sure at all. In fact, he was hoping he’d never see this particular gangster ever again.
Charlie grinned, the burning cigarette hanging out of the corner of his lopsided smile. “I’m sure you will.”
Shepherd barely pulled the car out of the drive before he started complaining. “I hate that guy.”
Ginny sighed, collapsing against the passenger seat as if her bones had turned to jello. “I know, Shepherd. But you hate everybody, so that isn’t saying much about his character.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t listen to him. You had me worried there for a minute. Crimes andcrimecrimes.”
Ginny laughed so suddenly and so loudly it was more of a snort. She slapped her hand over her mouth but the laughter didn’t stop; it changed shape and sound until it was the lovely sort of giggle that made him desperate. Shepherd smiled, his eyes crinkling as he looked at her.
“What’s so funny?”
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t know. Thecrimecrimes got me. Or maybe I’m losing my mind.” She sighed, the laughter fading. Ginny leaned against the window. Palm trees blurredbehind the sunlight halo of her head, the sky blue and cloudless. “Maybe both.”
“Yeah,” Shepherd said with a sigh of his own. “I get that. Where, uh, where do you want to go? Noah’s got the restaurant covered and I don’t have Lex until tomorrow, maybe. She might opt to stay at her friend’s house all weekend since she’s got the pool.”
“And two bikes, don’t forget,” Ginny added. “Unfortunately, I think I need to go home. I mean, my dad’s house. Maybe my brother’s press conference did some good and a tip has been called in. Or something.”
If they were really a couple, he’d reach over, put his hand on her knee and give a squeeze. He wouldn’t have to say anything. His presence, his desire to be there, his refusal to leave would all be enough. But they weren’t really a couple. And Ginny’s joke that Hayley had been the loser for marrying him still stung, even if it wasn’t real. There were often truths hidden inside jokes like that. So, he held on to the wheel and sighed again.
“Back to hell.” He switched lanes so he’d be ready for the exit. “Got it.”
THIRTY-TWO
It was strange how empty the place seemed now, the second time Shepherd pulled into the Kent driveway. There were still a lot of cars, but most of the uniformed police were gone, leaving a few stragglers behind to monitor phone calls and keep eyes on the family. He nodded at them politely as he guided Ginny into her home, hand on her elbow.
He always thought hell would be different. Lava, brimstone. Bats, maybe. Skeletons giving orders and stabbing people with giant tridents. As it turned out, hell was just a defense attorney’s home, and Shepherd was the idiot who opened the door and walked right in.
At least it was air-conditioned.
