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She typed a message.
Sorry I flipped out the other day. Can we talk? Maybe coffee?
The store was slow tonight, which meant she had every opportunity to check and recheck her phone a billion times. By the time she fell into bed, four hours later, he still hadn’t responded.
***
Her dad’s car was a hazard on the road. No matter how hard Addison gunned it, the 2004 station wagon wouldn’t hit forty-five. Honestly, she was afraid to push it for fear parts would start falling off in the road.
She’d been bugging him to get it looked at for months. Earlier today she’d found out he’d been duct-taping parts back together. Addison and her mom had managed to convince him to let her take it to a shop herself. He didn’t know enough about cars to negotiate a good price so she’d told him she was taking it to a trusted friend.
The “trusted friend” was actually someone Fox had mentioned when he’d torn apart his car looking for her tracking device. Jimmy’s Auto Repair. She’d looked it up online and hoped they had enough integrity not to try to take advantage of her based on her gender and age, like so many others had. But if Fox was friends with them . . . maybe they were decent people.
The GPS led her to a parking lot where a small building sat, dilapidated and looking as if a bomb had just detonated inside.
She pulled up front and sat there stunned for a moment. Crap. What now? She shifted to reverse but stopped when she spotted movement through what once had been a window.
Someone stepped through the broken glass door. She recognized him immediately.
Luke.
What was he doing here?
Curiosity drove her to find out. She put the car back in park then climbed out. Luke watched her with interest.
When she drew closer, he smiled. “Hey, Addison.”
“Hey.” Her Converse sneakers crunched on the broken glass scattered across the ground.
“Fox isn’t here.”
Her cheeks heated. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . .”
Smirking, he crossed his arms. “Did you put a tracking device on me this time?”
Great. So they all thought she was a stalker. “No.” She gestured to her dad’s car. “I was trying to get my dad’s car fixed but”—her gaze traveled over the wreckage—“apparently it won’t be here. What happened?”
Luke frowned. “A rival group trashed the place.”
“What?” Rivals? She had no idea there was more than one car-theft ring around here. Was the car repair shop in on Fox’s business or just an unlucky casualty?
“Put our friend in the hospital too.” He shook his head. “Fuckers.”
Realization hit. Fox had said something about danger but she’d written it off as an excuse to get rid of her. “Is this why Fox said I couldn’t do any more jobs?”
“Of course,” Luke replied, his brows drawing together in concern. “You didn’t think he just reneged for no reason, did you?”
She shrugged.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Addison.” He gestured to the damage done to the garage. “He didn’t want you to get mixed up in this shit show.”
Could that really be why Fox had pushed her away? It wasn’t about him being controlling—not totally—and it wasn’t about respect or trust. He’d been trying to protect her?
Fuck. Well now she felt like an ass. She hadn’t really given him a chance to explain either.
Still, he hadn’t stopped her when she’d left. And he hadn’t texted her. Not even once and it’d been three days. She’d put out an olive branch, hoping he’d say something, but he’d ignored her. Pride kept her from looking too desperate and trying again.
Obviously, Luke was wrong. Fox didn’t actually care about her or he wouldn’t have blown off her text. He’d already forgotten about her. Tears threatened her eyes.
