Better when He's Bold

“Whoever it is has a lot of anger built up toward her, whoever is after her clearly sees her as a target, as some kind of important figure in their life. What about the rest of her family? Could the stalker be trying to get to her in order to punish them?”

I blinked once, then twice, and felt dread settle heavy and hard in my abdomen. “Her dad owes me over three hundred grand and her mom is an emotional and drunken mess. There’s all kinds of room in there for someone to be good and pissed at them and taking it out on Brysen.”

He nodded, looking grim.

“Will she let you dig into her family’s dirty laundry to figure it out?”

“She already knows about her dad and the money. She said her mom is looking at getting help. I guess she caused a really bad accident a year ago that killed some guy.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, we both stopped and awareness dawned. I swore and Titus leaned forward in the booth.

“Were there survivors?”

“Yeah. Brysen said the dad was the only one killed.”

“A grieving family is as good a place to start as anywhere. Let me pull the accident report and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“I appreciate it, Titus.”

“In return, you will pass along any info you get on the mystery man with the accent.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

We both went to slide out of the booth when he stopped me with a heavy hand on one of my shoulders.

“This business with your dad—I would let it go, Race. The worst punishment a guy like him can experience is living in Iowa somewhere, living a middle-class life on an allowance the government gives him. He’ll be no one and have nothing, and that is far worse than death for a man like him.”

I was going to respond that only death was appropriate for a man who was so ready to murder his own child simply to avoid uncomfortable questions, when the front doors to the diner slammed open and a uniformed officer came running inside.

“Who owns the red Mustang?”

I exchanged a look with Titus and got to my feet.

“The ’66 is mine.”

“I already called the fire department, but you might want to get out here. The whole goddamn thing was in flames when I pulled into the parking lot.”

I used every bad word I could think of as I raced out of the diner with Titus hot on my heels. Sure enough, there was a crowd gathered around my car as yellow-and-orange flames danced over the cherry-red paint. The smell of gasoline and smoke was almost suffocating as a couple of uniformed officers tried to move everyone back from the blaze.

“Race.”

I looked at Titus out of the corner of my eye.

“Don’t say it, Titus. I fucking love that car.”

He ignored me as sirens wailed in the background.

“When you have so many enemies that you can’t even tell what direction to look in order to watch your back . . .” He paused to make sure I understood what he was saying. “That’s a really dangerous place to be.”

I grimaced as the fire got so hot, the front windshield shattered and collapsed inward. The car was going to be a total loss and it broke a little piece of my heart. It was the first car I ever bought for myself without my dad’s money. It had been in rough shape until Bax worked his magic on it. It was the one thing that was mine, had been mine from the get-go, and now it was just a blackened, smoking pile of scorched metal and melted rubber. It made my heart hurt and my blood thick with rage.

“Is this the mysterious man with the accent, or about your girl?”

I had no idea, and it didn’t matter either way. Whoever was behind it was going to pay. I didn’t say anything, just locked my jaw as the fire truck wheeled into the lot and added high-pressured water to the mess that was once my beautiful ride. The crowd dissipated and left me and Titus standing there in the parking lot. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and gave me a little shake.

“The station has cameras. I’ll see if we can pull a visual or a license plate. Let me take you back to the garage.”

I blew out a breath, low and shallow, and ran my hands over my face. “All right.”

I still had to go see my techie friend about Brysen’s computer, but I couldn’t do it without wheels. Good thing there was a surplus of them around the garage.

I climbed into Titus’s boring cop sedan and closed my eyes and rubbed my temples as hard as I could. Losing the Mustang brought back all those thoughts and fears I had about losing things that mattered to me running in furious circles around in my head. I was all caught up in a girl who had a psycho after her, my sister was in love with the most dangerous person in the Point, and my business partner would kill me just as soon as look at me. All of it made my skin feel too tight for my body and had a buzzing nervousness popping and snapping right under the surface of my control. My fate was going to be whatever the Point decided for me, but if anything happened to Dovie, to Brysen, or even to my seemingly invincible best friend, it would break me, and I knew it.

When we got to the garage it was late afternoon and most of Bax’s crew was headed out, but his Hemi was still in the lot. I didn’t want to try and explain why I was riding with Titus and not in my own car, but Bax was already walking toward us smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone. He gave the nondescript sedan a dirty look and then glanced between me and his brother.

“How are you going to outrun anyone in this piece of shit?”

He kicked the fender and then had to duck as Titus swung at his head.

“You wouldn’t be talking so much trash if you saw what was under the hood. It’s a cop car, dummy, it’s supposed to blend in.”