“Fuuuuck,” I say, stepping in closer.
Izzy rushes over, sniffing wildly at the bundles of hundred-dollar bills. Roddy looks up at me as he nudges one of them with the tip of his drill.
“Pretty sure these things are coated in narcotics. Don’t touch a thing.”
My stomach bubbles with acid, and I think I’m going to be sick.
“Take her for a minute,” I say, handing my daughter to my teammate as soon as he stands. I rush to the gravel along the street and hurl my morning coffee into some weeds.
“Guessing you weren’t aware this money was in here when you bought this thing?” He laughs through his words, but I’m suddenly flooded with all of the terrible memories my mind worked overtime to supress.
This money is definitely saturated with drugs, and probably blood too. I remember the men in our house counting these stacks, piling them into boxes and moving them to trucks to haul across the state for the cartel to pick up at the border. Mymom wasn’t small time. She wasbigtime. My father started the business, but when he went away, she took it over. If she weren’t such an addict herself, she could have risen to kingpin. Instead, she overdosed after hiding her worth for her only kid to inherit.
Blood money.
Drug money.
I slept with this shit for a year.
I pinch my brow as I pace Roddy’s driveway, and he seems to understand that this is something serious for me.
“Do I want to know?” he asks.
I shake my head and utter, “I’m not sure. I don’t really know fully. Just . . .” I stop and look up to meet his gaze. “My mom died of an overdose, and this Suburban is the only thing she left me.”
Roddy studies me for a beat, likely piecing this information together with the bits about my past that I’ve shared with him, such as my dad went to prison and my mom was a loser. He nods finally, then sits Holly back in her car seat before pulling out his phone.
“Roddy, I don’t think we want more people?—”
He holds up a finger, stopping me as he presses his device to his ear.
“Hey, I know we need to talk, me and you. But right now I need some help. It’s for Brooks. Can you come watch Holly for an hour or two? I have to help him with something.”
Roddy’s gaze lands on mine as he listens to the other side of his call. My guess is it’s Daisy.
“Thanks. It’s for him. This favor isn’t for me.” He ends the call with that. One day, I hope the two of them can work out their beef.
“You can’t call Lindsey in on this. Keep her safe,” Roddy says. His eyes widen and he drops his chin, as if he’s waiting for me to agree. I nod, but I also wonder if I should get out of here. I’m not sure what he’s thinking to do.
Roddy heads into his garage and grabs a garbage bag meant for lawn clippings. He puts on a pair of work gloves and scoops the money into the bag. I search his garage for a second pair, and when I can’t find anything, I grab two more garbage backs and cover my hands in the plastic. Together, we get the cash into the bag in less than two minutes. Roddy triple bags it, then knots the end before throwing it in the back of my SUV, along with two shovels.
Fuck.
Daisy pulls up a few seconds later, and my pulse races even faster.
“Let me see that sweet baby,” she says as she gets out of her pickup truck and skips over to me and Roddy. I pull Holly back out of her car seat and will myself to mind my expression. I don’t need to be showing my panic, no matter how much I’m sweating under this long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.
“Thanks, Daisy. I’m having an issue with the car, and I don’t want her riding in it while Roddy helps me work it out. And Lindsey’s studying for an exam. She only has so long before those boys start demanding attention.” I chuckle, really selling it, and Daisy waves me off as if it’s no big deal.
“You guys go do things with car parts and oil. Meanwhile, Holly and I are going to visit the goats in the back.
She marches through the garage and into the house as if it’s her place. Perhaps at one point it was.
“You have goats?” I ask Roddy.
“I have everything,” he says. He whistles for Izzy to jump into my vehicle, and she obeys, leaping into the back seat with ease.
“Let’s go,” Roddy says, sliding into the driver’s seat. Before I question why he’s driving, he gives me a look that I obey about as quickly as Izzy did his command. I hold up both hands and make my way to the passenger side, and in less than a minute, we’re out of his neighborhood and hitting the highway at eighty.
