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“It probably should be. I punched her out, thinking she was one of Marcel’s guys trying to scoop my mark. I couldn’t just leave her there, unconscious in the garage.” He remembered the bump he’d left on her head and felt his skin crawl. Punching her had been an instinctual reaction stemming from the frustration of having to deal with Marcel’s idiot thugs for the past few months, but he still felt like an ass for not being able to stop the punch from landing. He’d pulled it at the last minute when he’d seen she was a woman, but even that hadn’t been enough. He half hoped his brother would deck him for it.
Luke swung into a sitting position and stared at him. “You punched a girl? Asshole.”
“It was an accident.”
“So you did what?” Luke frowned. “You brought her here?”
Okay, now that Luke put it that way, it sounded a little fucked up. But he’d been worried he’d done damage and wanted to monitor her for a concussion. “It made sense at the time. I didn’t have a chance to text you for advice.” They both glared at him. Like he’d had options? “What wo
uld you have done?”
“Uh . . . taken her to a hotel?” Atlas made a face that implied Fox was quite possibly the stupidest man alive.
“Yeah, excuse me, hotel staff, please avert your eyes while I carry this unconscious woman into my room,” he replied. “Oh, and I’ll tip well if you ignore the stolen Lexus in your parking lot.”
Atlas broke eye contact and stared thoughtfully into his bag of chips. “True.”
“I would have left her there.” Luke snorted and shook his head. “If you were that worried you could have dumped her off in a nicer neighborhood.”
“Where there are security cameras? Nosy neighbors? A neighborhood watch?” Fox rubbed his forehead, still no closer to figuring out what he should have done. They all sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Oh well.” Atlas shrugged. “It’s done now. You let her go, I assume?”
“No, she’s chained in the fucking basement.” Fox was on his feet and pacing before his brain knew he was going to get off the couch. “Of course I let her go!”
“Do you think she’s going to call the cops?” Luke asked.
“No. She wants to get into the automotive liberation business.” He chuckled. Her eagerness reminded him of when they’d been in their teens and learning from Luke’s father. Only their friend, Konstantin, had abandoned the work. He’d had other friends to begin with, though, and they’d pulled him back into the world of the honest buck. Boring.
“She wanted an internship?” Atlas smirked and opened the Coke he’d left on the table. “Was boosting the car you were already trying to steal part of the interview process?”
“No, she didn’t notice me until she woke up in my bed.”
“That’s not like you. Usually we have to set up velvet ropes to keep the line of girls hoping for your attention from getting unruly.” His brother smirked. “You’re losing your touch in your old age.”
“She didn’t even see me until then. Besides, she’s not interested in me like that. She just wants to pick my brain,” Fox said evenly. If they caught a whiff of unrequited interest, they’d ride him about it without mercy. Possibly for years.
“Your brain?” Luke smile derisively. “You should send her to me. I’m better at stealing cars than you are. Is she hot?”
“No. She’s a fucking dog,” he lied, aware it was ridiculous to be possessive about her considering she was a stranger. But stranger or no, if Luke or Atlas made a play for her, there’d be hell to pay.
***
Two nights in a row he’d dreamt of her. Not sex dreams—long, detailed dreams about things like the two of them killing giant bug aliens off-planet, or being part of a live action game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. He felt like he knew her, even though the only thing he knew about her was her name. It was like they’d been lovers years ago and he’d lost his memory, leaving only traces to make him obsess. He needed to get her out of his head before he botched a job and his ass ended up in jail.
After showering and throwing on some clothes, he stomped out of the house and into the crisp night air. Solitude meant not needing to explain his foul mood to anyone.
In a fit of immaturity, he took the hybrid, just to piss her off. It wasn’t like she’d know. He pulled out of the driveway and headed toward town. The stretch of road from the house was almost always empty, so it surprised him when someone started following close enough for their headlights to flash in his rearview. Asshole. Some people didn’t know how to enjoy a country road.
He slowed down to let them pass, but the driver backed off. Someone was tailing him and wasn’t being subtle about it.
The grille suggested an old white Mazda—far from the black Prius she’d pretended was hers. But it was her, and he knew it.
Unreasonable anger crept up on him. How dare she say she was going to stalk him then not turn up for days? Did that show any commitment or pride in workmanship? No. It didn’t bode well for her career as a car thief if she couldn’t even be trusted to show up. If she just wanted to do it for the rush, that was one thing, but if she wanted to get more serious she couldn’t make her buyer wait for days at a time.
Partway down the road, he turned off onto a smaller side road. The other car followed. What if it wasn’t her at all and it was Marcel’s people instead? It would figure if he got himself killed while just trying to freak out an irritating girl.
He rolled his eyes at himself, but kept going until the deserted road went behind a rise. There he stopped, leaving the car running. He got out and stared the other driver down. The gravel road was too narrow for two cars to pass unless one went almost into the ditch. The Mazda rolled to a stop several feet from him and parked. The door opened.
