Page 21 of Slide

Chapter Five

Stunning. Exactly like Adam remembered. Long and lean. Sleek, subtle curves. Shit, sexy. Lying and telling his cousin he couldn’t find her—messing with him for a few weeks while he enjoyed her—might have crossed his mind.

But John’s relationship with the 1970 Plymouth Hemi Superbird was already unhealthy as far as Adam was concerned. If he didn’t get it back to him in Chicago ASAP, shit would get hairy. He didn’t want the guy charging down there and going mass-murder psycho on these guys.

Adam stood just beyond a chain-link fence, far enough back he was in shadow but not too far back he couldn’t make out the main players. No one he was on friendly terms with, that’s for damn sure. They were minor guys he knew of from his years boosting, before he was forced into retirement. He hadn’t decided whether that forced retirement was a good thing or not quite yet. Yeah, it was the right thing to do—hanging up his lock picks—but he missed it, missed the thrill. While he was boosting, he was out of his own head. There was no space for him in there when every one of his senses was on high alert. Something he’d relied on for a lot of years. You could say he was self-medicated. Fast cars and faster women. Whatever it took to give him that kick of adrenaline, that rush of endorphins. They did what antidepressants and shrink appointments hadn’t ever been able to do.

His gut tightened at the memory of a cold office, the sound of the wall clock ticking down the minutes until he could get the fuck out of there and work at forgetting again.

He turned back to the car parked several yards away, and a familiar rush of excitement pumped through his veins. He needed this, and wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself just how much. Things hadn’t been the same since Hugh and Joe gave up the game and shacked up with their women.

Adam could feel the tension that was always there in the pit of his gut getting tighter. If he didn’t do something to release it, he was headed for a downward spiral of epic proportions. Screwing anything that walked, the chase, the release, it wasn’t enough anymore. Not on its own. He needed this, the danger that came with it.

Granted, this wasn’t quite the same. He was stealing back his cousin’s car and returning it. Not exactly high octane stuff. And he was well aware how fucked up that made him. He also knew he couldn’t go back to that life, being a thief, no matter how much he needed it—not if he didn’t want to end up in prison, or worse, if he pissed off the wrong people.

He had to find another way, something else that gave him this feeling…

A pair of pale green eyes drifted through his mind. And like always, with merely the thought of her, he felt it, the kick to the midsection, the stirring of his cock.

Idiot. Do not go there.

He still couldn’t believe the way he’d behaved at Abella’s. But seeing her with someone else like that, knowing if he didn’t step in he’d have to watch her go home with some other guy, had forced him to act. The idea had been unacceptable. Shit, it had made him feel ill. Which was why leaving town for a while was for the best. He had no damn right getting in her way like that. None. But he knew if it happened again, if he had to watch her with someone else like that, he wouldn’t just be dragging her out and taking her home. Lucy would end up in his bed, underneath him, and he’d never let her back out.

Curling his fingers into a tight fist, he shoved Lucy out of his head—even thinking about her was dangerous—and dragged his attention back to the reason he was there.

There were several men moving around inside the warehouse. These guys did this for a quick buck, purposely staying clear of the heavy hitters in Los Angeles. And though they were bad news, there was no one there who caused Adam any great concern. If he got in and out clean, the chances of blowback were zilch.

The car was stolen from John three weeks ago while here in LA on business. His cousin had been out of his mind, but the car was rare enough Adam had been confident he’d find it. And there she was, ripe for the picking.

It took a while, but finally he got his shot. Ducking through the gap he’d cut in the fence, he slipped into the yard surrounding the rundown warehouse.

He was back.

And, damn, it felt good.

~ * ~

Lucy stared at the pile of clothes on her bed. What was she going to do? Where would she go?

Hugh had come to talk to her during his lunch break, and her brother had decided to fill her in on a few home truths, like he hadn’t already. He’d made his feelings about her quitting school crystal clear. He wasn’t happy, major understatement, and wanted her to go back. “Now that she’d had her time to blow off steam.”

Her brother wasn’t buying her reasons for leaving, and the more she refused to talk, the more annoyed Hugh got. She’d done such a good job after everything blew up, convincing her brother that Daniel was no longer an issue, going as far as lying and telling him he’d transferred to a different school, that he could see no other reason why she couldn’t go back.

God, she didn’t even know what she wanted anymore, if she was cut out for a career as a child psychologist, which is why she hadn’t transferred schools. She wanted to help kids, instead she’d destroyed two innocent children’s lives, broken up their family.

She felt backed into a corner. Home, her refuge from the big bad world, had turned into something else, somewhere suffocating. Joe’s attitude wasn’t much better.

Her phone started ringing in her pocket. She checked the screen. Daniel.

Shit.

She ended the call without answering. Couldn’t deal with him on top of everything else.

Two minutes later the door to her apartment flew open and Hugh stormed in looking like a demented giant, and she was the unfortunate moron caught holding the goose that laid golden eggs.

“What’s up, big brother?”

“What’s up?” he rumbled back, shutting the door and leaning against it, blocking her only exit. “Are you serious?”