Page 14 of Tempted By Shadow

“Thanks, Prez,” I manage. The words taste like ash in my mouth.

He pushes off the workbench and heads for the door. Stops. Looks back.

“My sister,” he says. “She doing okay?”

My heart slams against my ribs. “Yeah. She’s good. Got a job at that coffee shop downtown. Seems to be settling in.”

“Good.” He nods once. “That’s good.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing in the garage with my hands shaking and bile rising in my throat.

I’m going to hell for this.

The first time I notice the car, I don’t think much of it.

Silver sedan, tinted windows, parked across from Naomi’s building. Could be anybody. Could be a neighbor, a visitor, someone waiting for a friend. Tucson’s not exactly a small town. Cars park on streets. It’s not suspicious.

The second time, I start paying attention.

Same car. Same spot. Different day. Same tinted windows. The driver doesn’t get out. Just sits there, engine running, like he’s watching the building. Like he’s waiting for something.

The third time, I’m sure.

Someone is watching her.

I’m parked down the block, waiting for Naomi to get home from work, when the sedan pulls up. I watch the driver — I can’t see his face through the tinted glass, but I can see the silhouette. Male. Big. Sitting very still, very patient, like a man who’s used to waiting. Like a man who’s done this before.

He stays for twenty minutes. Doesn’t move, doesn’t get out, doesn’t make a call. Just watches. Before he eventually drives away.

My gut screams at me. Something is wrong. Something is very fucking wrong.

But I don’t have proof. At least nothing concrete. Just a feeling. And if I go to King with a feeling, the first thing he’s going to ask for is more details.

So I tell myself I’ll watch. I’ll gather more information. I’ll figure out who this guy is and what he wants, and then I’ll tell King. When I have something real.

That’s what I tell myself.

But as I watch the sedan’s taillights disappear around the corner, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m running out of time.

CHAPTER 5

NAOMI

For the first time in years, things are good.

I have a job — barista at the coffee shop Bella told me about, pouring lattes and making small talk with regulars. The pay isn’t great, but it’s mine. I earned it. Nobody handed it to me because of who my brother is. My manager, a woman named Rosanna who takes absolutely no shit, told me last week that I’m a natural. That customers ask for me by name.

I have an apartment that’s starting to feel like home. I bought a plant last week — a little succulent that sits on my kitchen windowsill. It’s the first living thing I’ve been responsible for since I killed a goldfish in the fourth grade, and so far it’s still alive. Progress. I’ve hung pictures on the walls. I know which floorboards creak and which drawer sticks. It’s small and cheap and mine.

And I have Shadow.

He shows up most nights after dark. We cook dinner together — or, more accurately, I cook and he watches me with that quiet intensity that used to unnerve me and now just makes me want to climb him like a tree. We eat. We talk about nothing and everything. He tells me about prospect life, the shit jobs, the brothers who give him hell. I tell him about the customers at the coffee shop, the weird orders, the old guy who comes in every Tuesday and tries to flirt with me.

And then we end up in bed, tangled together, learning each other’s bodies until I know every sound he makes, every spot that makes him groan.

He leaves before sunrise. That’s the rule. He slips out while it’s still dark, heads back to the clubhouse, and nobody knows. Nobody suspects.

It’s not sustainable. I know that. We’re playing with fire, building something on a foundation of secrets and lies. Eventually it’s going to blow up in our faces.