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“Hey!” Rip emerged from his office and made his way to the counter. “We got a problem here?”
Izzy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was still Rip’s shop so she wouldn’t give him hell for jumping in front of her and handling her hiccups.
“Yeah, we got a problem, old man.” Dumb kid probably thought Rip would be in on his boys’ club mentality and take his side. “This bitch won’t give me my tat.”
Rip raised an eyebrow at Izzy. “Never known her to refuse a customer. Must be a good reason, buddy. Even better than you calling her a bitch. I’ve seen her hand better men than you their asses for less.”
Izzy coughed to cover her laugh. “There is. He showed me the shittiest fake ID I’ve ever seen. Told him to come back with mommy and daddy, and I’d be happy to ink him. Otherwise, he’s gotta wait until he’s eighteen like everybody else.”
Rip’s lips quirked, but he didn’t smile. Much more even keel than Izzy, he said. “Sorry, bud. Don’t be a dick to her. I’m the one who makes the rules. See you in a few years.”
“Fuck this,” the teenager said. As he pushed through the door, his phone rang and he cursed again.
“You good?” Rip asked.
Izzy smiled. Sure, his overprotective attitude toward a little boy Izzy could swat easier than a fly was on the annoying side, but it was also endearing in a fatherly kind of way. “I’m good, Rip. Thanks for the backup.”
With a nod and a wave of his hand, he headed back to his office. “You’re done for the day, right?”
“Yeah, I’m free now. Have a good one, Rip.”
“See ya tomorrow.”
She grabbed her bag, popped on her sunglasses, and headed out to the parking lot. An ominous gray sky greeted her, ready to dump buckets of rain. “Guess I don’t need these,” she said as she removed the dark glasses. Digging through her purse for her sunglass case, she heard some muffled chatter and looked around, but appeared to be alone.
“Lefty needs my help? Fuck yeah, I’m in.”
Hand in her bag, Izzy froze.
Confident the sound came from around the side of the shop, Izzy tiptoed as close as she dared to get a better listen.
Lefty.
The kid was one of Lefty’s guys? She strained her ears, trying to pick up any and every word that was spoken. The wind kicked up and made it harder to hear, forcing her to sneak closer.
“Bring food to the guys guarding the barn? Yeah, man, I can do that. What the fuck’s the barn? What are they guarding?”
Izzy held her breath. Whoever was on the other end was reaming him out so loudly she could hear muffled scolding through the phone.
“No, sorry man. Yeah, I know. Don’t ask questions, just follow orders. Got it.” He fell silent for a few moments. Izzy could practically feel the waves of excitement flowing from him. He was obviously low level if he was even in the gang at all yet. An eager puppy who had far more ambition than brains, as evident by the fact he was having this conversation outside.
“Four guys. Yeah, okay, I’ll pick up a few pizzas and bring ’em right there. You gonna text me directions?”
The barn. Guarding someone.
Izzy’s gut went haywire. And she’d learned to trust it after taking care of herself for years. Something was up here. Something big. A barn with guards sounded like the perfect place to stash a bunch of kidnapped girls being sold to the highest bidder.
Her heart raced, and her fingers and toes tingled. This was it. She could feel it in her bones. This was what the Handlers needed to get Lefty off their backs.
Not to mention the potential to rescue the women—girls—Lefty had kidnapped.
The idea of being caught snooping wasn’t one she relished, so the moment it sounded like the kid was winding up his call, Izzy hoofed it to her car as silently as possible. After slipping into the driver’s seat, she kept her eyes on the kid but acted as though she was searching for something in her bag. Adrenaline coursed through her system, similar to the feeling she had right before stepping into the ring. Used to it, it was typically easy to channel the anxious anticipation into something productive, but today her usual methods failed her. There was far too much at stake.
The sky opened up, dumping buckets of rain in seconds. Maybe the pelting rain would create some distraction and keep him from realizing she intended to tail him.
The kid pulled out of the parking lot, and Izzy forced herself to count to ten before driving after him. This was her first time following someone with stealth in mind, so she just did what she’d seen on TV. No headlights despite the rain, stayed a reasonable distance behind him, avoided turn signals. After about ten minutes, he pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant. Izzy drove past, flipped a U-ey, then pulled off to the side of the road within eyesight of the kid’s car.
