Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline) (22 page)

The drop-off for the Porsche and the BMW went without a hitch. It only took one lap downtown to find a Rolls-Royce and a little longer to grab the Mustang. Only two more to go. He headed back toward the airport.

Lights too close to his bumper caught his attention. He glanced at his rearview, annoyed someone was tailgating him. A sleek black sedan was riding his ass. Too close for comfort. He sped up but the car stayed on his tail. He didn’t need to see a face to know who it was.

Marcel.

Or one of his idiot henchmen.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t lead him to the drop-off. That would cause a huge problem and potentially point to their buyer, which would destroy their reputation. He didn’t have time for this shit—he had to lose him fast.

What the hell did he want anyway? Was he trying to scare him?

Fox wasn’t easily intimidated, but he didn’t want to be forced into a turf war either. If these guys didn’t chill the fuck out, they’d pack up and leave town. A good home base wasn’t worth risking their lives over.

Just before an off-ramp, he switched lanes quickly, aiming to get off the highway before Marcel could follow. But the other car swerved, tires screeching, cutting off his chance. The engine roared as it pulled up alongside him.

Fox stole a look at the driver.

Cold eyes stared back at him. He’d recognize that long black hair and cruel twisted smirk anywhere. Marcel himself had left his lair to chase Fox down.

How fucking flattering.

Fox accelerated, glad he’d decided to take one of his fastest cars, but Marcel kept pace. Cars were panicking and moving out of their way as they sped past, the speed limit a distant memory. Every time Fox tried to move over, to get near an off-ramp, Marcel blocked him.

What the fuck did he want?

He looked over at him again through the passenger side window, planning to gesture crudely. The dull gleam of the handgun slowed time.

Atlas. Luke. Addison.

Sound cracked. Glass shattered and his shoulder exploded with pain. For a moment he saw nothing through the red haze.

Stay in control. Just drive.

He felt the car swerving, and he focused on seeing the road, slowing down and hoping Marcel would take off. Warmth poured down his arm under his jacket. His chest tightened in panic but self-preservation made him push it away and stay focused.

He had to get rid of Marcel before he shot at him again.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe Marcel had actually fucking shot him.

He glanced around. The sedan had outpaced him and was slowing. Apparently Marcel wasn’t finished.

When Marcel pulled up alongside him again, Fox let his anger take over. Enough was enough. He’d broken Carlos’s leg, destroyed the shop, stalked his girlfriend, and just fucking tried to kill him. He was done playing nice.

If Fox was going to die, Marcel was going with him.

He glared at him as he yanked the wheel to the right, smashing into the side of Marcel’s car. It drifted too far right to recover and crashed into the guard rail. Fox jerked the wheel left, narrowly avoiding the same fate.

His head started to spin. Shit. He was losing blood fast. Every move he made jarred his arm. In the rearview he could see that Marcel’s car had stayed against the rail. A car pulled up behind it and stopped, and he said a brief prayer that the dickhead wouldn’t shoot a Good Samaritan.

So tired. The world was coming at him dark and hazy around the edges. If he pulled over, the cops would find him. Investigations were bad. No hospital. They’d ask too many questions. There was a close-mouthed doctor they paid on the sly for emergencies but he had to make it home first. Keeping his eyes on the road, he groped for his phone with his wounded arm. He gritted his teeth at the near-blinding pain. Hand shaking, he patted the seat until he felt his phone under the broken glass. He dialed Atlas and put it on speaker.

“Where are you?” Atlas said when he picked up.

“Almost home. Call Dr. Lewis.”

Silence then, “What the fuck happened?”

Fox blinked a few times, trying to stay conscious.
Four more minutes.
He turned off the highway and onto the long stretch of empty road toward their house.

So cold. His teeth were chattering so hard it hurt his jaw.

“Marcel,” he said. “He shot me.” His arm felt like it had been torn off.

Atlas spat several curse words. “I’ll have Luke pick me up and tell Dr. Lewis head to the house now.”

“Atlas . . .” He trailed off, not sure what to say.

“Shut up, you big baby. You’ll be fine.”

Hot air blew in through the broken window, but he felt like he was in a meat locker. He clenched his clattering teeth. Weak. If he could make it home . . . The road swam.

“Finish the job,” he mumbled.

“God you’re even bossy when you’re shot,” Atlas’s deep voice mocked. “Stop worrying about us and get your ass home.”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“. . . love . . .”

“For fucksakes, you’re scaring the shit out of me. Just drive!”

Almost there.

Atlas’s voice got slow and jumbled. He turned into the driveway as his vision blurred. His ears rang. He parked then stumbled outside. His legs stopped and he fell sideways onto the grass. He looked up at the sky.

Away from the city was an endless sea of stars.

“It’s getting busy out there,” Jake said as he walked into the break room.

Addison scowled at him. “I’ve got five minutes left.” Though it was true, she sipped her espresso a little faster. She wasn’t about to be a dick about five minutes, even though by the time she got into the staff room her whole break was about ten minutes long.

Her coworker sidled up to the table, fiddling with his fingers as he stared at her. Blond hair swept across his forehead, and with his baby blues and clean-shaven face, he looked like a member of a boy band.

“Yes?” she asked him, arching a brow.

“I was wondering,” he paused, looked at the floor, then back at her, “if you’re not doing anything later . . .”

Whoa.

Oh shit. He was going to ask her out. Fuck. He was cute in a baby-faced, innocent way but so not her type. Still, she was no dream-crusher either. How did she put this politely so she didn’t hurt his feelings?

“After my shift I have plans with my boyfriend,” she told him. The lie reminded her of the missed call from Fox during her shift, and a hot stab of guilt flashed through her.

He winced, catching the hint.

“Sorry, Jake.” She stood up and smiled sympathetically. “You’re a sweet guy. Try asking Daisy. I think she has the hots for you.”

His eyes brightened. “Really?”

Daisy was a sweet, giggly girl, and totally swooned whenever Jake smiled at her. She was much more his type.

“Ask her out to TGI Friday’s. It’s her favorite restaurant.” She winked then turned for the door.

Her phone beeped in her locker and she stopped. That wasn’t Fox’s text tone. Curious, she spared a few seconds to check to make sure it wasn’t her parents with an emergency.

She dug in her purse until she found her phone. The text was from Luke. Weird.

Fox is hurt. Can you come to the house ASAP?

Hurt? Cold dread crept through her body. What had the idiot done to get hurt? Panic struck hard. For Luke to text her to come ASAP, it must have been serious.

Oh god.

She looked at the clock. Still another two hours in her shift. Her boss was not very forgiving when it came to employees leaving their shifts early, even for emergencies. If she left now, she might get fired.

But Fox was hurt and it sounded like Luke and Atlas needed her. If it wasn’t serious they wouldn’t be texting her.

Oh god . . .

She’d been ignoring him for the past week, hoping answers would be clearer with space between them. Now none of that mattered.

His slow smile filled her mind, along with a sudden cold dread. What if it was bad?

Fuck, she’d been such an idiot.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her purse from the locker and turned to Jake. “I have to go,” she managed to say. “It’s an emergency. Tell Craig I’m sorry and if he has to fire me, I understand.”

Jake’s eyes went wide. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She shook her head, feeling like she was suffocating. Before he could say anything else, she was out the door and running to her car.

Once she was in the seat, she took a second to text Luke back.

I’m on my way. Be there in 10.

Stupid tears started before she even reached the highway, trying to blind her. There was no saying if he was in real danger. Maybe this was just a ploy to see her? She hoped it was, even though she’d deck him if that was true.

If he was dying they’d have told her to meet them at the hospital, right?

She tried to keep from speeding excessively but it was difficult. Why had she been so stubborn about her feelings for him?

What if it was too late to tell him? That thought froze in her head. She turned it around, analyzed it. Tell him what exactly? That she really, really, really liked him?

Fuck, Addison. Stop being a wuss and just say it.

She loved him.

Maybe it was true, but it didn’t relieve the tightness in her chest. She loved him. She loved him in all the mushy, gross ways most girls felt when they fell in love. She loved him in the “I want to have his babies” way, and that was a fucking lot coming from her.

When she pulled into Fox’s driveway, the floodlights illuminated a banged-up Cadillac with a busted out window. There was glass all over the seat. Atlas and Luke were outside on the lawn. No sign of Fox. Her heart felt like it was in her throat, pounding and choking her. This was bad.

Atlas paced the yard and Luke walked to her car slowly, a grim look on his face.

She opened the door and jumped out. “What happened?”

Luke put out a calming hand. “He’s okay. He just . . . got a little shot.”

“‘A little shot’?” she yelled.

“Shh!” Luke scowled at her. “It was Marcel. He went after him.”

“And he got shot? Like, by a gun?” Idiot. She could kill him!

Atlas shrugged. “It’s just a little scratch.”

She had a feeling they were downplaying it in a big way. Her gaze flickered to the banged-up car. On the ground outside the driver side door were small dark puddles that looked suspiciously like blood. Her stomach lurched.

“The doctor’s in there with him,” Luke said. “He’s awake and making jokes. He’ll be fine.”

Immediately, she swept by him and made for the door. Atlas blocked her path.

“What are you doing? I want to see him.”

He shook his head. “We didn’t finish the job. And if we don’t get the last two cars to our client tonight, our reputation is fucked.”

“I need to see him, Atlas.” She looked into his eyes, giving him her most determined expression.

“We don’t have time,” he gritted through his teeth.

Luke came up behind her. “Atlas is right. We need your help but we have to move now.”

“I’ll help you but—”

“You can’t see him while he’s with the doctor anyway.” Atlas said, looking huge and immovable. “And if he finds out you’re here, he’ll know we’re planning to use you to finish the job. He’s already bitchy and after tonight, I’ll be surprised if he ever lets you out of the house again.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious, Addison,” he continued. “If you want your shot in the group, and you want to help Fox, now’s your chance.”

Luke spoke up. “I promise he’ll be okay, as long as the doctor doesn’t strangle him. He’s a shit patient. Fox will be here when we get back. He’s not going anywhere.”

She wanted to help, but only seeing that he was okay with her own eyes would unknot the ball of anxiety in her chest. Especially after she’d been distant with him all week. It was killing her to think that he could have died not knowing how she felt about him.

“Addison,” Atlas barked, commanding her attention.

“All right, all right.” She caved with a sigh. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get in the car,” he answered. “You’re our chauffeur tonight.”

***

“You’re sure he’s okay?” Addison asked again, watching the taillights in front of her as they made their way through the city. Being the driver wasn’t as boring when the car was a Mustang, but it was hard to be excited about driving it with visions of Fox bleeding out distracting her.

“Still yes,” Luke replied, but she could hear the tenseness in his voice. This had shaken him up too.

“What if Marcel finds us?”

Luke grunted. “Fox said Marcel ran into a guardrail and the accident looked pretty bad. Hopefully he’ll lay low for the rest of the night and won’t tell his guys to hassle us. They know we can’t call the cops, though, so keep an eye out.”

“Easy on the gas,” Atlas scolded her from the backseat. “We need to deliver this car in one piece.”

She was driving one of the marks but they’d changed the license plate back at the house before they’d left. “You can’t put me behind of the wheel of this thing then tell me to drive like a granny!” She eased her foot off the gas a little anyway.

Next to her, Luke chuckled then turned to look at Atlas. “We need the Audi. Should we head toward the hospital?”

“Yeah, let’s check there.”

Addison’s brow scrunched in confusion until she realized there was a good chance a doctor or surgeon would drive one. This was all very enlightening. She was taking mental notes of everything they said so she’d be more helpful next time. If there
was
a next time.

Fox getting shot really screwed things up. His brother and cousin were right. He’d never let her out of the house again. She had to win Atlas and Luke over. Tonight was her chance.

Flashing police lights ahead made her step on the brake. Her chest tightened. Were they looking for Fox? Were they looking for Luke and Atlas?

“Slow down,” Luke told her.

“I am.” She followed the line of cars to the left lane to avoid the police flares and debris on the road.

Luke rubbernecked as she crept by a crash site. “Whoa.”

“This is where Fox said he sideswiped Marcel.” Atlas leaned forward so he could see between the two front seats. “Shit. That looks bad.”

A black car was wrapped around the guard rail. Its front window was smashed and the whole left side of the car was scratched and dented. Glass littered the ground. There was a tow truck, three police cruisers, but no ambulance.

“Do you think he lived through that?” Atlas mused.

It didn’t look like anyone could have. A lump formed in her throat. She almost felt guilty. Almost. The man had tried to kill Fox out of pride and greed. Even if he hadn’t made it, his own actions had led to this.

They passed the scene and she headed toward the hospital, pushing her worries about Fox away. Her jaw tightened with determination. First things first. They had to get these last two cars. She’d worry about him after. Now was the time to prove herself a worthy teammate.

Luke found an Audi in the hospital garage and she left him there with his bag of gadgets. They had two hours until sunrise so she raced Atlas to the other side of town for the Mercedes. He had two addresses but the cars were either in garages or not there at all. They finally found one at a casino garage.

She wished him luck then took the car for a quick spin, trying to get her mind off Fox until it was time to meet Atlas and Luke once they’d delivered the last two vehicles.

It was late, and between the lack of sleep over the last week, and the stress from tonight, she was exhausted.

Her text tone beeped. It was Luke.

On my way. Meet you at the diner in ten.

Diner? Must be code. They were supposed to meet at some random warehouse near the airport. Atlas had programmed the address into the built-in GPS before he’d left. She followed the directions until she pulled up to a compound in the middle of nowhere.

No lights. Overgrown parking lot. Broken fence. It looked completely deserted. Was this the right place?

She gave her head a shake. Of course it was. They were stealing and chopping cars illegally. The place was bound to seem shady.

Slowly, she crept up to the front gate. Fuck. They hadn’t told her what to do from here. Was there a password or something? Should she knock three times at one of the warehouse doors?

Uncertain, she stopped the car just outside the gate and started to type a text to Luke. Something banged outside her window. Startled, she dropped her phone and turned to see a man standing outside her door.

Shit.

Before she could hit the lock button, he opened the door then yanked her out of the car, his hand wrapped in her shirt.

“Hey!” she shouted, trying to steady herself. “What the fuck?”

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I’m . . .” She flipped through an array of potential answers and ways they could end badly. “I’m delivering the Mustang.”

He shook her then reached under his shirt and pulled out a handgun.

Fear slammed into her. She wrenched free from his grip. Heart pounding, she put her hands up in surrender. “I work with Fox. I’m just delivering the car.”

The man narrowed his eyes at her. “He didn’t mention a girl.”

Figured.

She wondered if she should appear more like a stone-cold criminal and less like a weak-willed imposter. Mustering all of her courage and bravado, she bit back, “Interesting. Well, he didn’t mention a man would threaten me with a gun either.”

He snorted as he looked her up and down.

Annoyed, she straightened her shoulders. “Do you want the car or not?”

When he didn’t answer, she added, “’Cause I have other buyers . . .”

He took a step toward her, cutting her off. The cold look on his face made her knees weaken. She was an adrenaline junkie but she’d never had her life threatened before. She flirted with danger, not with death. Now look where it’d landed her.

A car pulled up, screeching to a halt beside them. She exhaled a sigh of relief at the familiar face inside. Luke jumped out.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He ran toward them, his hand out as if he could stop him from shooting from there. “She’s with us!”

The man lowered his arm and she relaxed. “You can’t bring people in without some warning.”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. I got that.”

Atlas pulled up soon after and the man analyzed the cars then called someone from the warehouse who drove each car into the gated lot. Addison waited, her nerves twisting in her belly. This was the real deal. Nothing like having a gun pointed at your head for it to really sink in.

After the man shook hands pleasantly with Luke and Atlas, he arranged for one of his guys to drive them home. She spent the ride trying to decide what to tell Fox about tonight. Would he know by looking at her that she’d helped? She had a decent poker face but could she lie to him? If he asked her outright, she’d have to tell him the truth. Lying to strangers was one thing but to Fox? She loved him too much for that.

But there was an important part she just had to omit.

“Don’t tell Fox about the whole gun thing,” she said when they’d arrived at the house and exited the car.

Atlas arched a brow. “Do you think I want to be murdered by my own brother?”