Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Isolde

A knock on my window made me jerk upright.

Rocco Ferris was grinning at me through the glass, tapping it with the barrel of a pistol, two of Victor's guys behind him. He'd been collecting at the garage every month since my father died.

"Out, Red."

I got out and slammed the door. "Seriously? Your boss just robbed me in front of half the city, and now he sends you to shake me down too? I paid this month. Early."

Rocco took his time, leaning on my car like it was his. "We've got some special news for you, Red. You're no longer Victor's problem."

"What?"

"Your daddy's tab ain't his no more."

I laughed. "What, he forgave three hundred and eighty grand out of the goodness of his heart?"

"Sold it." His gold tooth caught the light. "Your old man put the shop up for that loan, remember? Guy who's got the tab's got the whole dump."

I kept waiting for the punchline. Rocco just watched me with that lazy grin, and somewhere between one breath and the next I understood he wasn't kidding, and the ground went soft under my boots. The garage was the last place Dad's handwriting still lived.

"Who?" My voice cracked down the middle. "Who did he sell it to?"

Rocco tipped his chin over his shoulder.

I hadn't even noticed the car. It sat at the edge of the lot, black and low, so clean it looked wet under the moonlight. A man pushed off the hood and stepped into the streetlight, and my stomach dropped all over again.

Macaulay Ruiz.

Before the crash, Ruiz had been a five-time Midnight Grand champion and the most dangerous man on a track. He took corners too hard, closed gaps that barely existed, and pushed every driver around him until the race felt like a dare.

Off the track, he carried the same reputation. Mac got what he wanted. He handled business the way he raced, waiting for the opening and taking it before anyone else saw it coming, no matter who got left behind.

The circuit called him Ruin like it was a compliment. I used to think it was one too.

Not anymore. He was the reason my father died in a prison cell.

Rocco and the others pulled away laughing.

"Miss Smith." Mac walked toward me, and I caught the slight hitch in his left leg that he hid by keeping his pace slow. "As of this afternoon, you owe me three hundred and eighty thousand dollars."

I stared at him, incredulous. Macaulay Ruiz had paid Victor Kane for the last thing Dad left me, like he was picking up a part, and now he was talking about it like he'd done me a favor. Six years of hating him from a distance, and he'd helped himself to the garage on his way into my life.

“Piss off.” I lifted my chin. "Go buy some other girl."

"I don't want some other girl. I want you working for me. You'll do exactly what I tell you, for as long as I tell you, and every time you do, that number gets smaller."

"And what exactly will you be telling me to do?"

He smiled but didn't reach his eyes. "Whatever I want."

"Go to hell." I stepped right into his space, close enough to smell sandalwood and leather on him. "You’re the reason my dad died in a prison cell. So don't you dare talk to me like you own me."

"He admitted his own guilt, sweetheart. Or did you forget?"

"He was coerced," I hissed, the words coming out bitter. "You and your lawyers and the cops decided he was guilty and forced him to admit to what he didn't do."

"Your father was a coward and a murderer."

I slapped him. My palm stung like I'd hit a fender.

He brought his head back around slowly, his face devoid of expression.

"I'd rather spend eternity in hell," I said, my voice shaking, "than become your whore."

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking.

"My whore? Sweetheart, look at yourself."

His eyes dragged over me, the hoodie with the cuffs chewed through and the red frizz escaping my bun, and he made a face like he'd found something stuck to his shoe.

"You smell like motor oil and dress like your father's ghost picked out your clothes. I've had women in my bed who'd make you look like a stray cat nobody bothered to feed. No, that's not what I bought you for."

"Good," I shot back. "Because I'd rather crawl into bed with a rabid dog.

He just looked mildly amused but said nothing. Instead, he flicked a black card at my chest. It bounced off and landed on my boot.

"My office. Nine a.m."

"I'm not coming."

"You will."

"And if I don't?"

The amusement drained out of his face like someone had pulled a plug, and what was left was so cold a shiver ran down my spine.

"Then I'll personally make sure hell looks like a vacation compared to where you end up."

He got into his car and drove off without looking back.

"I'm not coming!" I screamed, and kicked the card across the asphalt.

Then I walked over and picked it up.

"He’s an asshat!" I told the ceiling of my apartment for the third time.

Lexie was curled on my couch with her heels kicked off. Nix leaned against the counter with his jaw tight.

"I'm tempted to show up tomorrow just so I can stab him in his smug face with a pen."

Nix rubbed the back of his neck. "Iz, maybe this isn't such a bad deal."

I gaped at him, wondering if he'd lost his mind. "What?" I leaned in and pressed my hand to his forehead, feeling for heat. "Do you have a fever?"

He shrugged off my hand. "I'm fine."

"Then what the hell do you mean, it's not a bad deal? It's bad. Period."

"You remember what they used to say about his file?"

I did. After the crash, Ruiz's lawyers ran their own investigation, and none of it ever saw a courtroom, because Dad pled guilty before there was one. Some people swore the file proved he did it. Others said it pointed somewhere Ruiz didn't want it pointing.

"What if it's in that office?" Nix said.

"So what if it is? You think he leaves it lying on his desk with Dad's name on the cover?" I folded my arms. "If that file exists, it's locked up somewhere I'll never get near."

"You'll be in his building every day," Nix said. "Closer than anybody's been in six years. There might be something in that file that could prove Bobby's innocence after all these years. It's too good to pass up."

"Or it could get her hurt." Lexie sat up, the teasing gone from her face. "Think, Iz. You'd be sneaking around his building with his people watching you. If he catches you, he owns your garage, and you've seen what he's like. You think a man like that plays fair?"

She was right. But Nix's words had already dug in somewhere under my ribs, and every reason Lexie gave slid right off them. Proof. After six years of hearing he pled guilty, there might be proof.

"Then I won't get caught," I said.