I turned forward, unable to look.
Just focus on running.
He fired. The shot crackled through the air, a sound I would never forget.
Mason jerked, slamming into me from behind with a grunt. I went down with no time to break my fall. My head cracked against the pavement and blackness embraced me with open arms.
I had no idea how long I was out, but when I came to, my brother was unconscious on top of me, and they were gone, along with Chevelle.
“Mason,” I cried, my voice a breathless gasp. I nudged him, yet he didn’t move. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
I managed to twist my body over, dragging it out from beneath him. The back of his shirt was covered in blood. A moan of horror rose from my chest. I pressed shaky fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse. It was there. “Okay,” I breathed, exhaling, shivering from shock. It was cold and dark, and the streets were empty. I had never felt more scared or more alone. “It’s going to be okay,” I sobbed, reassuring myself before I lost it, not realising I already had.
* * *
“Why is he calling you?” Mason enunciates again, ripping me from the memory as he glares at me from his wheelchair. My brother’s spinal cord was damaged from Grinder’s bullet, but at least he’s alive. Grinder is in prison, charged with attempted murder. We’ve had to lie low ever since, fearing reprisal from the Sentinels, his biker brethren, ever since.
“I have no idea. So get out, okay?” I say, angered because I’m lying, and I hate having to lie. I promised him, promised him, that I would stop after I delivered the BMW. We had needed that last hit of money. The refurbishments to our cottage to accommodate Mason’s disability had drained all our funds, and his rehab bills were enormous.
He jabs his finger at me. “Don’t you dare call him back.”
“Mason! Get. Out.”
“No.” His jaw tightens. “We still need to talk.”
I can hear bustling in the kitchen. Echo is making herself something to eat while Mason badgers me. She adores food. She’s always shopping for it, cooking it, looking at it, and eating it. “Later,” I tell my brother. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to have a bath.”
“I don’t give two shits about your bath.” Mason’s voice rises. He’s not just angered. He’s agitated. “You’re going to explain to me why the hell Kelly Daniel’s was in your room last night! Did you fuck him?”
I stiffen, my chest tight as I try to breathe through the sudden fury. Mason must have encountered Kelly either last night or early this morning. I’m still unsure what time he left, but I don’t have time to ponder it right now. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
My phone dings a message. I break eye contact with my brother and glance down. It’s Kelly. He’s replied to the message I sent earlier. My pulse skyrockets. I’m itching to open it and see what it says, but not in front of Mason, for obvious reasons. “You’re right.” My gaze rises, hitting him with a hard glare. “I heard you, but I’m struggling to believe you right now. Who I fuck, or don’t fuck, is none of your business!”
“It is when he’s a Sentinel!” Mason roars.
I freeze, my voice lowering to a whisper. “What did you just say?”
“Kelly Daniels is a Sentinel.”
8
Arcadia
My lips pinch, my giddiness over Kelly squashed like a bug on the floor. “Get out.”
My brother’s eyes widen, his fingers curling tightly around the armrests of his wheelchair. “Did you just hear what I said?”
“Mason, so help me God, get out of my bathroom right this second before I lose my shit.”
He folds his arms, refusing to budge. Well, I’m having none of it. Mason is a fool, and along with Tony, he’s ruining what would otherwise have been a wonderful morning.
“I said he’s a Sentinel.”
I unearth the soapy sponge from the beneath the water and toss it at my brother’s head. “And I said get out!”
After smacking Mason in the brow, the sponge drops to his lap. His eyes glare like lasers cutting through metal as he tosses it back in the bath, half his face now covered in bubbles and his pants soaking wet. If I wasn’t so riled, I’d laugh.
He backs out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut as he wheels himself out. With peace now at hand, I submerge myself in the steaming water before rising again and scrubbing at my face. I reach for my exfoliator on the shelf behind me and squirt a dollop into my palm. I’m rubbing it in my cheeks when I hear, “You’re such an asshole!” from Echo in the kitchen.
Pots rattle as she slams a cupboard. She’s been my champion since as long as I’ve known her, since Titsgate at school. She stands up for me even when I’m in the wrong. A true friend.
“I’m the asshole?” My brother sounds gobsmacked.
“I was making bacon and egg sandwiches for brunch but you know what? I’m going to take yours home with me and feed it to my dog.”
“You don’t have a dog.”
“You’re missing the point, Mason.” Her tone is snide.
“What’s your point, then?”
I tune them out, rinsing my face and screwing the cap back on the tube of my face product. When I’m finished in the bath, I get out and wrap a towel around my torso, dripping water as I make the small trek from the bathroom to my bedroom, making sure to bring my phone with me. Kelly’s message notification still rests on the screen, waiting for me to open it. I don’t waste any more time.
Kelly: She’s not as sexy as you
There’s no punctuation. No emojis. Just a single gruff line that sends an electrical current through my veins. Three little dots appear as I continue staring at his message. He’s sending another one. I lean against the doorframe of my room, eyes pinned to the screen as I wait. It takes an absolute eternity.
Kelly: Busy tonight?
I exhale in a whoosh and grin, biting the bottom of my lip. He wants to see me again. Me! Little old Ace who lives in worn jeans and black converse with a hole in the toe. Tonight is Sunday family dinner night, but if I turned this guy down in favour of people I see every week, including my idiot brother, Echo would have my full permission to lock me up and throw away the key. I tap out a reply.
Me: What did you have in mind?
“You should see your face right now,” Echo says, and I look up from the screen of my phone as the message sends. She’s in my room, sitting cross-legged on the bed, plate in her lap as she devours the sandwich she made.
“Why?”
“Because you’re grinning like it’s Christmas and Santa delivered a shiny new V8 Mustang engine right to your front door.”
I purse my lips, quashing the grin as she takes another bite of her sandwich. “I am not,” I say as another message hits my phone.
Kelly: In the spirit of being honest, you naked beneath me
Kelly: But I’d settle just for seein’ you, babe
All brain function stops. I can’t catch a breath. My vision sees the powerful weight of him pushing me into the bed, and I want to know what that feels like.
“Ace?”
Echo is speaking, but I don’t hear a word she says. I’m painfully aware of the throbbing between my legs as I type a reply, my fingers moving of their own accord.
Me: Yes please.
Shit. Delete, delete, delete. I pause for a long moment, wondering how to reply with something along the lines of sign me the fuck up without it making me sound like an overeager tart.
Oh stuff it. I re-type the same message and hit send before I can overthink it anymore. Then I stare at my sent reply. It says delivered, and now I have the powerful urge to run and hide. Texting a sexy man-mountain like Kelly is more stressful than boosting a car, yet the rush is exactly the same. I’m giddy with adrenaline.
“Ace!”
I glance up from my screen. Echo is looking at me as if I’ve fallen off the edge of the earth. It’s accurate because my feet don’t feel attached to the ground right now.
“Who are you texting? Kelly?”
“Maybe,” I hedge, not feeling quite ready to deliver on all of the details.
I set my phone on the desk near my bed. That thing is a dangerous weapon in my hands. I can’t be trusted with it anymore this morning. I turn and wrench open my wardrobe doors. Inside on the left is a small set of drawers. I open the top one and extract a pair of matching white cotton underwear. The bra and panties are plain and boring. Unsexy. They’re just what I need to stop me thinking of sexual activities with said sexual beast.
“Maybe? That’s all I’m going to get after you blew off the Firebird last night? Ace, you downed two vodkas and let that massive dude lead you outside like a lamb to slaughter!”
I snort, dropping the towel to tug on my panties and snap my bra in place.
“I know he came back here last night,” she adds, arching her brow. “Is that why Mason is carrying on like a pork chop?”
“My brother is a fool. A paranoid fool.” I jam my legs into a pair of ripped skinny jeans and tug them up my legs, puffing slightly because the return of my anger has me winded. After sliding up the zip, I open another drawer. “Just because someone owns a Harley, he automatically assumes they’re a Sentinel.”
Echo makes a choking sound. I pause my search for a shirt and turn my head to assess her face. She’s trying hard to swallow the mouthful of food that has her cheeks bulging like a chipmunk hoarding nuts.
“What?”
She shakes her head, unable to speak, yet her eyes round in a look of faux innocence.
My gaze narrows. “You’re hiding something.”
Echo finishes, swallowing. “No I’m not.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“I know.” She picks up the sandwich in both hands and devours another large bite, speaking around her mouthful. “But you’re deflecting. I want details, bitch. I earned them,” she says, nodding toward the uneaten breakfast resting on a plate on my desk. She made me a sandwich too. Bribery, of course, but I’ll take it. I’m hungry, and there aren’t many details to give.
“Nothing much happened,” I protest, yet I can’t suppress another grin as I tug a blue tee over my head and twitch it in place. It’s a little worn and faded with big yellow lettering that says: Buckle Up, Buttercup. “We talked. He kissed me.” My mind returns to the feel of his lips on mine and heat travels the length of my spine. “Holy Jesus, Echo, he kissed me like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.”
My best friend makes a humming sound. She’s processing my information, or lack thereof.
I offer her another crumb as I take a seat at my desk and pull the plate toward me. “I like him.”
“That’s obvious. I like that you like him, but …”
“Dammit,” I mutter, knowing Echo is about to rain all over my parade. I knew the but was coming. I fucked up last night because of my fixation, and it can’t happen again.
“The timing is really bad, Ace,” she says as I pick up my sandwich and take a bite. An explosion of bacon and barbecue sauce fills my mouth. I chew and moan. It tastes fantastic. “Maybe you should put him on ice until this thing with Tony is done.”
I swallow my mouthful and sigh. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t blame you. He’s almost as delicious as this sandwich.”
“He really is.”
“And big. Like colossal big. You could climb him like Mount Everest.” Echo is chewing on her bottom lip as if she’s contemplating doing just that. Then she shakes her head and returns her attention to her plate. “What are you two messaging about?”
“He wants to know what I’m doing tonight.”
She shoves the last bite in her mouth. “Flund?”
“What?”
Echo swallows. “And?”
“I replied.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s like pulling teeth.” She dumps her empty plate on the bedside table and leaps for my phone before I get wind of her intentions.
“No!”
Her laughter is tinged with glee when I tackle her into the bed, my phone smooshing into the mattress beneath her.
“Give me the damn phone.”
“No.”
She’s still laughing when I rise and wedge my knee into her back. Then I grab a short fistful of pale pink hair and yank. Her breath catches. “Don’t make me hurt you, you … you fucking tutti frutti.”
“Seriously?” she wheezes. “We’re resorting to name-calling now?”
Echo bucks me off and rolls, gasping.
I snatch up the phone. “Ha!” It rings in my hand, and I check the screen. “Shit. It’s Tony.”
We share a grim look. “You better answer it.”
“And tell him what?”
“I don’t know.” She throws up her hands in dramatic fashion. “That you momentarily lost your mind?”
I roll my eyes. “Sure. That will work. Thanks for your shitty help.”
“You’re the one that fucked up,” she hisses. “Answer it.”
“Fine!” I jab the green button and put the phone to my ear. “Tony.”
“Ace. Forgetting something?”
Shit. I run fingers through my unbrushed wet hair and water drips down my neck. It does nothing to cool the anxiety that’s currently making my skin hot. “The timing was off.”
Tony’s voice is harsh. “Your timing is never off. That’s why you’re the best.”
“I’m the best because I know when to walk away. And last night I had to walk away.”
“With Kelly Daniels?” he replies in a cutting tone.
Shit. “You’re watching me?”
“Of course we are. I never figured you for stupid, Ace, but maybe I figured wrong. Oh, and you might want to check on your grandfather this morning. Seems Racer had a spot of trouble with a fire in his garage late last night. He’s lucky it didn’t spread.”
My fingers tighten around the phone, and I sink to my chair, unable to catch my breath. “What did you do?”
“Exactly what I promised I would do if you didn’t get me my cars.”
“You gave me twelve weeks,” I protest hotly. “Just because I didn’t get you the Firebird last night, doesn’t mean you aren’t going to get it at all!”
“You promised its delivery last night. We were prepared for it, and you wasted our time. You think your time is more precious than mine?”
“Tony—”
“Don’t mess up again, Ace. It’s not just you we’re watching. Get me my cars or your entire family burns.”
Tony hangs up.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, my stomach roiling sickly as I find the contact for Racer in my phone. It takes only a moment. My grandfather is listed in my favourites. We talk often, mostly about cars, but he’s trying hard to take an interest in the new direction of my life. Granted, his eyes glaze over every time I mention the dreaded word finance, but at least he pretends to listen, which is more than I can say for my parents.
Echo slides to the edge of my bed, her expression anxious. “What did he say?”
“Racer. He set fire to my grandfather’s garage.” I put the phone to my ear as it rings and meet my friend’s eyes. “Jesus Christ, Echo. What was I thinking last night?”
“You weren’t,” Echo mutters.
I hiss, a sharp whistle of air pushing between my clenched teeth. “He’s not answering. Oh god.”
She gets to her feet and snatches up her keys and black aviators, jamming them on her face. “Let’s go.”
The scenery is a blur as Echo plants her foot hard on the accelerator, leaving the traffic behind us scrambling to catch up. She’s driving a 1971 Ford Falcon GT in midnight black. A car I helped her buy for a ridiculously low price. She only takes it out once a week on a Sunday because it’s a massive gas guzzler, but the engine is savage. It’s roaring like a wounded bear when the realisation hits me. “How does Tony know who Kelly Daniels is?”
“What?” Echo glances over at me before returning her atte
ntion to the road.
“Tony mentioned him. He knew who he was.”
Her eyes fix in front of her like we’re following the yellow brick road. “Tony knows who everyone is,” she answers.
“He does not.” My lips purse. “You know something. Tell me what it is or I’ll scratch your fucking car.”
Echo snorts. I would cry like a little girl if anyone marked her ride, and she knows it. “You’re as paranoid as your brother. If he’s watching you, it makes sense he wants to know who you’re hanging around with.” Her tone is casual. Too casual. But I can’t deny that what she says makes sense. “He probably did a bit of digging and found out. I do it all the time, right?”
“True.”
“Try calling Racer again.”
We’re only a minute from his house, but I call up his contact again and dial, putting the phone on speaker. It rings for a lifetime. I’m about to give up again when he answers. It has me breathing a huge sigh of relief.
“Ace, it’s like you have a built-in radar when it comes to cars.” He sounds crotchety and impressed all at the same time. “How did you hear? I mean, I was planning on telling you, but I was just trying to work out how.”
My brows draw into a puzzled line. His words don’t make a lick of sense. “Tell me what? I’m calling because I heard there was a fire in your garage. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, little lass. It takes more than a wee small flame to snuff out your old grandfather. I’m sorry about your car though.”
“My car?” We pull into his driveway and Echo switches off the engine, drawing the keys from the ignition as we stare at the ashes before us. Silence reigns, apart from the intermittent ticking of the engine as it cools down.
“Ace? Are you there?”
“We just pulled into your driveway,” I whisper, my voice like broken glass.
My grandfather’s garage has been levelled to rubble. I’m trying to be thankful the structure is separate to the house, sparing his life, but my Mustang is in there. It’s now a burnt-out skeleton of metal, and I’m swallowing with desperation, trying not to hurl all over the dash of Echo’s Ford as I stare. Yellow tape surrounds the now ruined structure, advising caution.