“We’ll each drive one,” Gray said, slapping Raiden on the back. “Three or four is a solid haul.”
Without another word, the three jumped into action. Gray had been best friends with Raiden and Horatio for years. When he found them, they were each lost, constantly getting themselves into trouble, and without a soul to watch their backs. Raiden was getting himself beaten and bruised in bar fights, always trying to play the hero, and Horatio was a true loner, lost in the shadows. Gray had taken them each in, and, as a group, they’d made their own path in the world and found a way to fight back against all the assholes that tried to kick them down. All in their late twenties now, when they ran a job together, they didn’t have to say a word. They just moved, silently and in perfect coordination.
Like a damn family, Gray thought to himself as he rolled a sleek yellow superbike forward, a Ducati he knew could go fast as the devil.
“We should pick one to keep,” Horatio said. “I know the money is too good not to sell them, but we should have one good motorcycle around the shop, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Raiden said.
“Couldn’t agree more,” Gray nodded. “Probably one of these sports bikes.”
“Or a chopper,” Raiden added.
Horatio frowned, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I like that pink one.”
They all turned to look at the pink one. Come to think of it, Gray actually liked that one, too. Not for himself, of course. He wasn’t flashy like that. He didn’t even have a tattoo on his body or a pierced ear, just a little scruff on his face and a smile that got him in trouble.
But the type of guy who could pull off riding a motorcycle like that? Damn, but that was something Gray was happy to think about.
“Earth to Gray,” Raiden barked. “The douchebag who owns this place won’t be back until Sunday, but that doesn’t mean we should spend the whole weekend standing in his garage gawking.”
Gray grunted. “Let’s do the pink one. Horatio hasn’t won an argument in a while.”
“Hell yeah,” Horatio laughed, pumping his fist in the air. “We got a pink motorcycle now, boys!”
It wasn’t fifteen more minutes before Gray and Raiden were cruising down the backroads, away from that mansion and toward home. They lived on the edge of Albany, and the drive from Mr. Motorcycle Manhood’s house took a solid two hours, winding through the hills and avoiding the highways until they were nearly back at the house Gray and Raiden shared.
Gray felt a swell of giddy pride as they turned down another hilly backroad, “Another One Bites the Dust” blasting in the helmet’s Bluetooth speaker. He, Raiden, and Horatio had been getting better and better at pulling gigs like this one, which was good, considering the little mechanic shop they tried to run out of their garage barely pulled in any business.
And unlike the criminal family Gray grew up in, he and his guys didn’t target just anyone. They didn’t take advantage of good people; they just stuck it to the kinds of assholes who truly deserved it.
He knew he wasn’t Robin fucking Hood, but still, it was something, and Gray tried to hold onto it.
Gray rode that high for a good thirty, forty minutes before it started to sag, and his doubts returned. He got the urge to look over his shoulder, make sure a cop hadn’t snuck up on them and started to run the plates. He started to think about all the cousins, friends, and distant relatives who had ended up dead under his grandfather’s watch. Years ago, it had felt like enough that he dragged Horatio and Raiden out of the pits they had sunk into. But now that they had made a life together, new responsibilities had fallen in Gray’s life.
It made sense to be a ragtag group when they were younger. But now the time had come for Gray to prove himself and to find a way to keep his guys safe.
“Don’t be a disappointment, Gray,” he whispered into the helmet, the words disappearing with the wind.
He revved the engine, then flew ahead of the truck Horatio was driving. The cool breeze bit at his skin, and morning was probably only an hour away. With the money they made from this sale, he and Raiden would at least be able to get the roof redone, and Horatio would be able to update the equipment in their garage. It would be one more step in building a different life, for whatever that was worth.
Then he turned the corner into his driveway and nearly sprawled to the ground when he had to hit the brakes, his ride sliding and jumping beneath him. Standing in the middle of the driveway was a hulking man in his mid-forties, with a steel glare in his eyes and fists tightened into thick knots. Raiden and Horatio both slammed to a halt behind him, and the headlights of the truck lit the man up.
“Uncle Declan?” Gray asked as he hopped off the bike and tugged his helmet off. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What the hell,” Declan grunted, holding a hand over his eyes. “Cut the goddamn lights, will you?”
Gray’s uncle had moved to the area about a year ago, when he turned his back on a life of crime in order to start his own security agency with his new boyfriend. Gray and Declan didn’t have much by way of family, and Gray had quickly started to idolize the older man, from his stories working with the mob in Vegas to the new life he’d made for himself outside of New York City. Gray had learned more from his uncle than he could possibly explain, even if it was a pain in the ass to have the older man breathing down his neck and pointing out every mistake he made.
“I fucking knew it,” Declan growled as he thrust his finger against Gray’s chest, pushing him backward. “You can’t go two months without pulling some bonehead job, can you?”
“Ow,” Gray grunted as Declan’s finger poked him hard. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Declan gestured to the motorcycles with a sweep of his hand. “What do you think I’m talking about? You left your plans lying out on the kitchen table for two weeks, for fuck’s sake. If my boyfriend hadn’t hacked into that security system and turned off the perimeter cameras, the license on your truck would be recorded right now, and you’d all be in deep, deep shit.”
Another queasy knot formed in Gray’s stomach, jolted by worry and doubt that he had screwed the job up. Before he could say anything, Raiden stepped forward, a cocky grin on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Declan. I ran a security sweep and counted all the cameras and disabled the system myself at the garage.”
Declan took a step like he was about to offer Raiden his hand, then swatted him up the back of his head instead.
