Breaking Even(92)

“Why was it so urgent we meet?” she asks, standing beside my bike as I knock down the stand. Slowly, I stand up, crossing my arms over my chest as we move to the sidewalk and out of the city street.

“Because something has obviously happened to Brin’s car and I want to know what. No one else can fix her car better than my garage. So tell me where it is.”

She rolls her eyes as she fidgets uncomfortably.

“Do you even go to your garage anymore?”

“I’m there enough. Where’s her car? I’ll have it towed to my place. I don’t want some hack mechanic touching the vehicle she drives. I don’t understand how it tore up to begin with. We replaced—”

“It didn’t tear up,” she mutters, inhaling regretfully. “Pawn shop took it. Her ex pawned her title for a grand, but the interest added up when he didn’t pay for it, and Brin couldn’t pay the six grand in time. She refused to take my money or tell me which pawn shop. I even went to several trying to find the right one.”

“How the hell could he have pawned it without taking it in for them to appraise the value?”

It’s sure as hell worth more than a grand now that I’ve added all that shit to it.

“She was missing her spare keys when she moved out. More than likely he had them. All he’d have to do is borrow it from the museum parking lot for long enough to get the appraisal done, and he knows her work hours.”

What a fucking asshole.

I climb back onto my bike, and strap up my helmet as Maggie calls the jerk a string of unsavory names.

“Where does her ex live?” I ask, already turning on my bike as she gives me the address. It’s not too far from here.

“Don’t kill him,” she says loudly, trying to reach my ears over the roar of the engine.

I pretend as though I don’t hear her, because I’m not making any promises.

***

RYE

As soon as the door opens, my fist is connecting with the prick’s face and he’s falling backwards, yelping in surprise as blood spurts from his nose.

He’s not really what I expected. Brin needs a real man, and this weasel is curled up and crying. How did she live with him that long?

“Which pawn shop?” I growl, glaring at him.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he gasps, trying to crawl away from me when I near him.

“Where’d you pawn Brin’s title?”

I raise my fist up, but he throws both hands up while turning his face away. “Shit! She knows which one it is. It’s the one on Belker Street. Fuck!”

“What else do you owe? Is she paying off any more of your fucking debts?” I snap.

“Just my credit cards. They’re in her name though. Her name, her problem.”

I’d love to throttle this weasel all day long. But Brin needs her car. He’s fucking lucky she needs her car.

I step back as he warily stands, and I make my way toward the door. But it just seems too easy.

“Ah, fuck it,” I mutter before turning around and punching him one more time. As he falls to the ground, tears pouring from his eyes, I smirk. “Fuck with her ever again, and I’ll make sure it hurts a lot worse next time.”

With that, I turn around and head toward Belker Street.





Chapter 18

BRIN

“Sick!” Maggie screams, spewing her coffee everywhere. “When the hell did he do that?”

I shouldn’t be grinning because Rye exchanged the sugar with salt.

“I don’t know, but there’s baby oil in the soap dispensers. And I found a rubber snake in my panty drawer. Also, there’s a present in the living room that I’m scared to unwrap. He left it at the front door.”

I stare at the pretty disguise the present is wearing. Maggie tilts her head with me, and we both gaze curiously at the innocuous looking gift.

He’s not letting me go. He’s fighting. Maybe this is close enough? I’m sick of waiting on him to really let me in, but am I strong enough to let him keep me just close enough?

Maggie curses her cup of coffee as she drops to the couch. “Would it be too cliché to go borrow some sugar from one of the neighbors?”

I laugh lightly, but my eyes don’t move from the present. There’s no telling what masterminded prank lies beneath the red wrapping paper.

“What do you think it is?” she asks, both of us eyeing it very cautiously.

“A wicked jack in the box. A food bomb of some sort. Or maybe a dead rodent,” I say with a shrug.

“Why are you grinning?” she asks, smiling just like me.

I lean back and look through the large window at the house across the street.

“Because he still hasn’t given up. Now he’s trying to get me to come to him. He hasn’t bothered me since the other day.”