“Good boy,” I say.
“Fuck off.” He sneers at me, and I laugh.
“Alright,” Dom barks from the end of the table. He leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his face.
And fair enough. It’s been a day. We spent nearly a week tracking that car out of Grand Falls—mapping the driver’sroutine across the border in Maine, watching traffic cams, and waiting for the perfect gap. Then we hit it clean with a decoy plate and tow truck. And now we’re back in Fredericton with a shiny new Porsche ready to scrub and flip.
Because the Basin Kings always deliver.
“Kurt get any more info on next week’s buyers?” Mac asks me.
I shake my head. “He’ll have something by tomorrow. And I have leads too.”
Mac nods thoughtfully. “I know he’s your uncle and all, but… does it seem like he has you running point more lately?”
My eyes quickly dart to him. “I’m his VP. It’s my job to handle the shit he doesn’t want to deal with.”
But I have noticed. And with these auctions becoming harder to run, I get it.
“Plus, there’s nothing quite like tracking rich assholes and smoothing over Cory’s fuckups to really live the dream,” I add, leaning back and lifting my beer to my lips.
Cory’s eyes flash and he shoots daggers at me. But he stays quiet.
Such a good boy.
I chuckle, then let my gaze drift to the TV over the bar, half-watching sports highlights while the guys keep talking.
“Should we mod this one?” Mac asks.
“If you want to—” Dom starts, but I cut him off.
“We’re not modding shit,” I say. “It’s going to auction, not a damn car show. Scrub it, swap the VIN, clean up tech so it flies under scanners, then it’s done. Car’s probably already hot. No need to light it up more.”
The door to the bar creaks open, and a strip of golden evening light spills into the dim room. My eyes drop from the TV just as a guy walks past us, heading towards the back like he knows exactly where he’s going.
But I haven’t seen him here before. And we come here often.
And fuck, if I had, I would’ve already been all up in that. He’s fucking hot with his messy hair, cable-knit sweater, and messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
As he slides into the booth in the far corner, he disappears behind Mac’s broad shoulders. So I reach over and yank Mac back by the collar of his leather cut.
“The fuck?” Mac grunts, turning on me.
But I ignore him. I’m too busy watching sweater guy pull a stack of papers from his bag.
Mac follows my gaze, then chuckles. “A little too proper for you, don’t you think?”
I shoot him a glare, and Cory glances over his shoulder to get a look.
“Don’t know why you don’t just stick to the club girls,” Cory says, shaking his head. “They’re easy.”
“That’s rude,” I say, pointing a finger at him.
He shrugs. “It’s not untrue.”
Dom just shakes his head with a heavy sigh, turning to face the TV.
“They’re not easy. You just lose respect for them once they know what they want,” I say, my voice sharper than expected. “And anyway, I’ve been leaning more towards dick lately.” Then shift my focus back to the guy in the corner booth.
