No, she needed to push herself, to fill some need for… something.Her pseudo-uncle Moncrief inherited the Yard, along with her, when her parents were killed in a boating accident fifteen years ago.Because he traveled a lot performing his magic shows, he couldn’t deal with running the Yard.Ruby had sobbed at the prospect of losing the last tangible tie to her mom, so he made a deal with Nevin’s parents: a half share for managing it.
After graduating high school, she wrested control from Nevin’s father, who proved with his son that being a lovable lackey was in his gene pool.When he passed, Nevin’s mom insisted he step in, hoping to give him direction.He’d been one of the early strays Ruby attracted.While she had the kind of affection one might have for a dumb-but-sweet cousin, she wasn’t going to let him run the business into the ground like his father nearly did.Or shoulder all the work while he played with his art.
The man with Nevin said, “Ruby Salazaar, don’t you recognize me?”The wiry guy in a white cotton T and faded jeans gave her an expectant smile.Smoke trailed from the cigarette clamped between his fingers.
Um, maybe?“Leo Canton?”
He looked nothing like the afro-haired kid whose parents were part of Mon’s touring troupe.His hair was trimmed short now, round glasses gone.“Been a long time.”He approached her with outstretched arms.
She warded him off.“You arenotgoing to hug me like we’re long-lost friends.Unless you count cutting off my braid and terrorizing me as friendship, which I do not.”
He chuckled, dropping the cigarette and grinding it into the gravel with his heel.“You still got a braid.”His gaze followed it all the way down to her rear.“The color of honey.You nailed me good after I cut it off.I had that black eye for weeks.”
“You deserved every hour of it.”She’d pounded him, the rage so overwhelming it scared her.She pointed to the cigarette.“Didn’t you see the sign?Anyone who drops his butts has to pick them up and put a dollar into theJar of Bad Behavior.Which I use for the cat neuter fund.”She nodded toward two kittens who were racing over to rub against Leo’s ankles.
Leo pulled out his wallet and handed her a fiver.“Still feisty as ever, and a hell of a lot stronger.”He had the gall to clamp his hand over her biceps but pulled away at the murderous glare she gave him.
Nevin made a tsking sound.“She hates to be touched, dude.Some guy grabbed her ass once, and she dropped him right to the ground.Dude clutched hiscojonesall the way outta here, yowling like a girl.”
His pride warmed her heart.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”Leo slumped back against the car and crossed his arms over his chest.“You did get the best training on attack and evade, thanks to me.”
“You mean the Hunter/Prey game you and Jimmy used to force me into playing?”The two would start hunting her, prowling the tour buses or the stage equipment.She was always the reluctant prey.Except some tiny, crazy part of her actually liked it while the rest of her hated it.“You two were horrible to me.”
He shrugged.“We only did it ‘cause your uncle paid us to.”
“What?”
Leo plucked a kitten from midway up his pant leg and set it down.“Five bucks a week.Skills building, he called it.”
“You’re serious?”
“Your uncle did things to protect you.He was super paranoid for some reason.”He peered into her eyes.“Youstilldon’t…” He clamped his mouth shut and waved as he sauntered off.“Nevin, gimme a shout if you find the part for my truck.”
“I still don’t what?”she called after him.
“Have a sense of humor,” Leo said, though she knew that wasn’t what he was going to say.Well, she certainly wasn’t going to beg him for the answer.
She pinned Nevin with a glare.“Is this true, about Mon paying kids to torment me?”
He assumed the blank look of the guilty.
Her cell phone rang.“Speak of the devil.”She skipped right pasthello.“Were your ears ringing?I’ve got?—”
“Ruby, there’s trouble.”
Okay, shift of mood.She sighed.“Did you piss off your new neighbors already?I told you not to hang those weird artifacts all over your front porch.Creeps people out.”
“No,bigtrouble, ducky.Get over here, quick.There are things I have to tell you, things I should have told you long ago.”
Her throat tightened at the agony in his voice.“Be there in about forty minutes.”
“Speed.”
* * *
Speed in Miami traffic.Yeah, right.Especially since a storm had recently passed through, leaving the freeways wet and slick.Which made drivers either go too slow or too fast, both hazardous.The black mass of clouds now squatted roughly over the upscale neighborhood where Uncle Mon lived.
