In Jack's Arms

  The tips of his ears flushed. "I didn't mean to sound so rude."

  "It's not rude when it's honesty." Her pouty lips quirked with a smile. "I like honesty. We should get together sometime for a drink. You can let me pick your brain. Maybe you could become a beta reader for me."

  I realized Hadley didn't know that Finn was a recovering alcoholic. He deftly sidestepped the issue with a counteroffer. "How about coffee? I teach a lot of classes in the evenings so it's easier for me to get away from the gym in the mornings."

  "Works for me." She grabbed a piece of pink construction paper and a silver pen and jotted down her info. With the skill of a practiced origami expert, she folded the note into a simple little frog that she dotted with two silver eyes. Giving it a flick, she shot it at Finn who caught it with a smile. "You can call or text me or send me an email."

  He held the frog on his palm and seemed a bit taken aback by the woman in front of him. "I will."

  Hadley pointed to a big board on the far wall. "We have a group of comic book artists and graphic novelists who get together twice a month. You should come to the next meeting. I think you'd like it."

  "I'll think about it."

  "Miss Rivera?" A teenaged boy armed with markers waved his hand. "Class started two minutes ago."

  "Then I better stop chatting away up here, huh?" She winked at us and started unpacking the items she had brought for the class while telling them about the project they were going to make.

  Finn and I headed back to the lobby with a stop at the board where he grabbed a flyer. We found a comfortable spot in a corner. I noticed the way he took a seat that gave him an unobstructed view of the entrance and the parking lot. He placed the silly paper frog on his denim-clad thigh and ran a fingertip along the exquisite folds.

  "She's single."

  He glanced at me and then fixed his gaze on the entrance. It was a long moment later when he finally spoke. "A girl like that is way out of my league."

  "Why?" I stared at him and wondered if he had any idea how high his dating stock was. "You're hot as hell. You're part owner in a successful small business. You're sweet. You're kind. You're—"

  "A recovering alcoholic," he interjected a bit roughly. "That's not something a girl like Hadley Rivera is going to consider a perk."

  "What does that even mean? A girl like that? Like what?"

  Finn shot me a look. "Her name is on this building. The Rivera Center for the Arts?" He shook his head. "Her dad is one of the wealthiest men on the planet with that telecom network he owns. Her mom comes from old school Houston oil money. Girls like that don't give guys like me—vets without college educations who are barely holding onto the middle class dream—a second glance."

  "That's bullshit." I hissed quietly, mindful of the people sitting nearby. "She's not like that, but I guess you'll never know since you seem bound and determined to smear her with stereotypes and your own hang-ups."

  Annoyed with him, I shoved out of my seat and headed to the window that overlooked the parking lot. My phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I fished it out and answered without even glancing at the screen. "Hello?"

  "Abby Kirkwood." The raspy male voice sent a shiver down my spine. "My name is Romero Valero. Can we talk?"

  The realization that I had a brutal, machete-wielding ex-con on the other end of the line made my stomach drop like a runaway elevator. "I—"

  "You have something I want, and I have something you need."

  "And what is that?"

  "I'll guarantee your safety."

  "How?" Looking around nervously, I stepped away from the window and moved into the corner. Voice soft, I said, "You couldn't keep your friend safe. Why in the world would I believe that you could help me?"

  "Things aren't always as simple as what you see on a video, Abby. There is more at play here than you could ever understand. So, if you're smart, you'll tell your Albanian handler to put together a meeting. Give me the camera, and I'll take care of everything else. You and your brother and your boyfriend can go on living your nice, clean life." He didn't give me a chance to answer. "I'll expect an answer by midnight."

  A second later, the phone call ended. Stunned by the mostly one-sided discussion, I lowered my phone and tucked it back into the pocket of my jeans. I fought the urge to glance over at Finn. He would be able to read the panic on my face so easily. Instead, I took a few moments to compose myself before returning to my seat and picking up a magazine.

  "Work?"

  I realized he was asking about the phone call and nodded. "Marley had a question about a watch."

  Finn's face was unreadable. Did he believe me? Did he suspect the call was something more? If he did, he didn't push. He left me to read my magazine in peace. Well—I pretended to read the magazine. I scanned the pretty pictures and flipped the pages but my brain was fixated on that phone call.

  Was that the smart move here? Should I use Besian to make a deal with Romero Valero? Should I give him the evidence of the hit and wash my hands of it? There was no doubt in my mind that blood would be spilled if I did. Of course, if I didn't cooperate, it might end up being my blood.

  I thought of the note the assassin had left in my house. I couldn't run or hide behind Jack and Besian forever. At some point, I had to make a decision. It just had to be the right one.

  When Mattie came out of class, I pretended not to notice the way he chatted with Ellie. The blonde-haired young woman laughed at something he said. Her response made Mattie's eyes glow with such warmth. It was the same way Jack looked at me.

  Though I had always known this day would come, I didn't have the first notion of how to proceed when it came to dating. The rehab center and the support groups we belonged to were so good at offering education and advice on so many topics but relationships? That hadn't been covered by any of them. I wouldn't even know where to begin.

  But something told me Jack and Finn would. It occurred to me that Jack was right. I didn't have to do everything by myself. In fact, it was probably better for Mattie if I let other people step in and offer advice and help whenever possible. I trusted the Connolly brothers would do right by Mattie and guide him if he gave dating a try.

  "See?" Hadley eyed me conspiratorially as she came to stand close. "Look at the sparks flying between those two. Maybe you and Jack could double date since neither of them have a driver's license."

  "God no," Finn cut in, aghast. "He can't go on a double date with his sister. That's a good way to guarantee he'll never get a second date."

  "Is that your way of offering to chauffeur?" Hadley asked.

  "Sure." He gestured to the studio area. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

  "No." She waved her hand. "They clear up their spaces before they leave. I just need to tidy up a few things, but thanks for asking." She gave my shoulder a poke. "Don't forget that the shooting club meets on Sunday. I didn't see your reply on the emails Marjorie sent."

  "I'll check my inbox later," I promised.

  "Shooting?" Finn looked confused. "You don't meet guns?"

  I shook my head as Hadley laughed. "No, it's a photography club that pairs professional photographers with amateurs. They organize these get-togethers they call shootouts where they give us tips and tricks."

  "This weekend it's classic cars and pinups," Hadley added. "You should come out and see it, Finn. It should be a lot fun."

  "We'll see."

  Mattie wondered into the conversation. "Okay. It's time to go home now."

  I smiled at Hadley. "That's our cue. I'll see you Sunday."

  "Yeah. Bye, Mattie." She patted my brother's shoulder and grinned at Finn. "It was nice to meet you. I hope you take me up on the coffee date. I'd love to have a different perspective on the books."

  "I'll be in touch."

  As we left the arts center, I wondered whether the obvious chemistry between the pair would lead anywhere. I hoped Finn was brave enough to take a chance on Hadley. After everything she had survived in her twenty-s
omething years, she would understand the hell he had been through when he lost his leg in that explosion and had to fight like hell to get off the booze.

  "Can we have pizza for dinner, Finn?" Mattie whipped his backpack up and down as he walked. Before I could tell him to be careful, Finn reached out and gently pushed Mattie's arm down and gave a shake of his head, silently indicating that Mattie shouldn’t do that.

  He squeezed my brother's shoulder. "You want to have something delivered or grab something to take home?"

  "Delivery," Mattie decided. "I want pineapple."

  "I'm sure we can find something on the menus stuck to the refrigerator. There's a place that Pop likes. They do a thin crust that—"

  Something snapped and dinged just to the left of us. Before I could even react, Finn had grabbed a handful of my shirt. While shoving Mattie next to his truck, he swung me around in front of him and threw me down next my brother. "Don't move!"

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  It was gunfire. Glass exploded and metal screeched as bullets ricocheted off the handful of vehicles still in the parking lot of the arts center.

  "Stay behind the engine block." Finn kept his hand on Mattie. "Abby, call 9-1-1. Now!"

  Finn's order blasted through my terror. I retrieved my phone and slid my arm around Mattie's shoulders, hauling my brother close as I waited for the 9-1-1 dispatcher to answer. Squealing tires and more gunshots echoed in the night. The SUV that had been trailing us slid to a stop in front of Finn's truck, blocking the incoming rounds.

  A door opened and a man with three fingers waved at us. "Get in!"

  Grasping the back of my shirt and Mattie's arms, Finn dragged us to our feet and pushed us forward. "Move, Abby! Move!" He shoved us into the middle row of seats and shouted at the driver. "Shooter is on the roof."

  "Da."

  The three-fingered man snarled something that had to have been a Russian curse word. "The girl!"

  Finn and I both glanced at the arts center just in time to see Hadley coming out of the building. With the white cord of her earbuds dangling around her neck, she wiggled her hips while locking the door and seemed totally oblivious to the attack happening right in her parking lot.

  "Shit." Finn didn't even hesitate. He pushed off the SUV and raced toward her. The gunman must have seen Hadley come out of the building because he fired toward her, the bullet ripping through the glass and sending a shower of shards into the air. Hadley screamed and threw her hands over her head before dropping to her knees. She had made herself a perfect target. Finn was shouting at her but she couldn’t hear him.

  The three-fingered Russian leaned out his window and began firing in the direction of the rooftop. His weapon wasn't nearly powerful enough or as accurate, but the covering fire was enough to give Finn a chance to reach Hadley. He swept her up in his arms and dived into the building through the shattered window, rolling his body over hers and shielding her from the bullets and glass. He disappeared from my view, taking Hadley to a safer spot inside the building.

  I released a noisy breath just as the dispatcher finally answered. "9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

  Bullets began to bounce off the hood but before I could say a single word the three-fingered man in the front seat swiped my phone and ended the call. "No."

  "But—"

  "Nyet." He said something to the driver who punched the gas and jerked the wheel so hard I fell out of my seat. I scrambled to get back upright and leaned over to grab the seatbelt for Mattie. He gripped my wrist. "Abby?"

  "Just keep your head down," I urged. "We'll be okay."

  "Where's Finn?"

  I wanted to scream at the two men to go back for him but didn't. They weren't going to listen, and Mattie would only be more upset. "He'll be okay. He's a Marine."

  I couldn't believe how stupid I sounded. Some part of me wanted to believe that was all true. I prayed Finn and Hadley were okay. If anyone could keep her safe, it was Finn Connolly.

  "Where are we going, Abby?"

  I gripped Mattie's hand. "I don’t know."

  "I want Jack, Abby."

  "So do I, Mattie. So do I…"

  Chapter Ten

  "Jack Connolly?"

  Pushing off his truck, Jack met the questioning gaze of the younger man striding toward him. Built like a quarterback, the guy was easily three inches over six feet and nothing but muscle. He had brutal hands, the knuckles busted from working on cars, and full sleeve tattoos on both arms. No doubt he chose to wear the smudged wife beater because it showed off his ink and made him look mean as fuck.

  Jack didn't miss the double-headed black eagle tattooed on the underside of the man's left wrist when he held out his hand. It matched the one Besian proudly displayed. He wasn’t just some guy who worked in the mobster's auto shop. This was a made man and a member of the silent inner circle of the Albanian crew.

  "Yeah, I'm Jack."

  "Ben," the man said, his accent colored only by the slightest hint of Texas drawl instead of the Albanian he had expected. "Arben Beciraj," he clarified. "I'm Besian's nephew."

  Jack tried to figure out how that was possible. Ben looked close to Kelly's age, maybe even a few years younger, and Besian was only in his mid-thirties. The numbers didn't add up but he wasn't about to ask why.

  "Do you have a cell phone on you?"

  "Yes."

  "Give it to me." Ben held out his hand. When Jack only stared at it, he explained, "Bugs and wires, man."

  Exhaling in frustration, Jack pulled his phone from his pocket and slapped it onto the other man's hand. "There. You going to frisk me now?"

  "You're not my type. I like them small with big tits and tight pussies." Ben angled his head toward the shop. "Come inside. The others are waiting."

  As he followed the profane and blunt man, Jack got a better look at the massive tattoo covering the younger man's back. The tips of black wings and the beaks of another double-headed eagle were visible around his thin shirt. With a piece that huge and dark marking his skin, there was no doubt where Ben's loyalties rested.

  Inside the auto shop, he counted ten men milling around the brightly lit interior. Most of them were bullshitting in Albanian. Seven of them were wearing Merkurie Motors and Towing uniforms. Even the legit employees seemed to be dipping into the dirty side of the business. Ben motioned toward the group of men, and Jack took a spot on the edge. The others shot him suspicious looks, but he didn't mind in the least. These weren't the types of men he wanted to make friends with or get to know. He was here to do a job, pay off the favor to Besian and go home to Abby.

  Ben whistled and the room went quiet. "We've got twenty-one cars tonight and a special delivery. The GPS units in the cars are all programmed for the drop-off. Paulie and Karl are playing taxi. When we're done, we meet back at Sugar's. Drinks and entertainment are on the house. Okay?" The men nodded. "Good. Let's go."

  Jack waited for more instructions. After sharing a few quick words with another man, Ben crooked a finger in his direction. He grudgingly joined the mechanic near a tall toolbox.

  "Did you bring gloves?"

  Jack silently cursed his oversight. "No."

  Ben yanked on one of the drawers and fetched a pair of black leather driving gloves. He dropped Jack's confiscated cell phone into the drawer and slammed it shut before slapping the gloves against Jack's chest. "Here. Don't touch anything without these. The cars are detailed after they reach their final destinations, but I don't like to tempt fate."

  "Thank you." Jack tugged on the gloves and followed Ben to a car covered with a drop cloth at the very rear of the garage. When the mechanic whipped back the cover, Jack couldn't help but let loose an appreciative whistle at the sight of the midnight blue luxury sedan.

  "You ever drive one of these?" Ben asked as he walked around the car.

  "Me?" Jack laughed. "This thing costs more than I make in two years."

  Ben chuckled. "You and me both, brother." He fished a key fob out of his pocket and tossed it over.
"Here. My treat."

  Taken aback by the offer, Jack caught the small device and eyed Ben with distrust. "Is it stolen?"

  The mechanic and car booster didn't seem the least bit fazed by the question. "Not this one." He gestured to the door. "Let's go, man. We've got to get this one delivered to its owner and the rest of the shipment in the cargo containers across town by ten."

  Jack slid behind the wheel and took a moment to enjoy the incredibly luxurious interior. The creamy leather and maple dash accents were unbelievable. He couldn't imagine driving a vehicle like this every day. The damned thing cost more than most Houston starter homes!

  He buckled his seatbelt and glanced at Ben. "Where are we going?"

  "We're delivering this one to Lalo Contreras. It was a special order"

  The mention of the cartel enforcer's name made his stomach lurch. Uncertain whether Ben was fully apprised of his situation, he carefully said, "I probably shouldn't be the one making this delivery."

  "It's all been arranged. Besian wanted you on this one." Ben pulled a garage door opener from the pocket of his jeans and pressed the button. "Make a left when you hit the street."

  Uneasy and wondering if Besian had set him up, Jack put the car in drive. Out on the street, a silver SUV followed close. He recognized the driver as Karl and figured Ben had given him orders to trail them so he could pick them up and take them to the warehouse after dropping off the car.

  Curious about Ben, he asked, "So you do this sort of thing a lot?"

  "You writing a book or something?"

  "No. Just making small talk."

  "Small talk is dangerous for men like you."

  "Men like me?"

  "Clean guys," Ben said, stretching out his legs. "Nine-to-five, tax paying, middle-class, American dreamers like you."

  "Bitter much?"

  Ben laughed. "Hardly."

  "Look, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. I'm going to do this job, and you'll never see me again."

  "For your sake, I hope that's true."

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "Are you threatening me?"