Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)

She couldn’t do more than nod before he was out the door. Keeping low, she listened carefully for hints about what was going on, but she could only make out quiet murmurs. Slowly, she hazarded a peek through the window.

A man stood across from Fox, silhouetted in the car’s headlights. It wasn’t a cop. So who was it? A friend? Someone from the shop he’d mentioned playing cards at?

Fox threw his arms out to the side in a gesture of macho annoyance. “I’m not stealing your jobs, man.” She could barely hear him, but that much had been clear.

The guy stepped toward him, his shoulders back. Something about him, even from this distance, seemed dangerous. Not a friend. But Fox could hold his own, couldn’t he?

More murmurs then Fox’s fists clenched. The man swung at him but Fox stepped back out of reach. He lunged and pushed at the stranger’s chest.

“Back off!” he yelled. “I don’t wanna start this shit with you.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Her imagination went wild. What if the guy pulled a gun? What if he shot Fox? Was Fox packing? They were criminals but . . . She didn’t think Fox was the violent kind and she’d never seen him carry a weapon.

Just when the man drew back to swing again, a siren went off in the distance. Both Fox and the stranger froze. She didn’t see lights yet but they’d be stupid not to split.

“Come on, idiot,” she whispered to herself.

The stranger backed away first. He pointed to Fox as he headed toward his car. “Stay the fuck away from my clients.”

“Quit being fucking paranoid,” Fox shot back.

More words were exchanged but they were drowned by the loud siren headed their way. Lights flashed in the distance. Her heart leapt to her throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

They weren’t doing anything wrong. Not yet anyway. The adrenaline rush was well past the fun kind that turned her on. Fox slid into the seat and a moment later, a police cruiser sped by.

The car behind them took off too and she finally exhaled a breath.

“What the fuck was that all about?” she said.

Fox stared out the window for a few moments before answering, “Nothing. Just a . . . small disagreement.”

“It didn’t look small.”

He turned and gave her a stern look. “I thought I told you to keep your head down.”

She wasn’t about to admit to spying so she didn’t respond. After a long sigh, Fox opened the car door again.

“Stick to the plan.” He climbed out of the car then stooped down to add, “I’ll meet you at my place.”

Addison spent the next twenty minutes trying to calm her stampeding heart. It seemed the worst was over at least. Fox had texted her and would meet her at home. There, in the garage, they stripped the plates and any identifying information. Tomorrow they’d deliver it to some secret location he said was “classified.” He wouldn’t answer her questions about who the guy who’d stopped him was or what his problem had been.

By the time they finished the process, they were too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed. It should have disturbed her that she fit so perfectly in his arms—as if she’d been molded specifically to be there—but she didn’t have enough brain cells working to think about it. Instead, she drifted off to sleep to the rhythm of Fox’s breathing.

***

Cheeky green lizards flitted around the tidy garden, like overwound children’s toys. Addison loved taking Gramps outside, listening to him laugh like a carefree boy as he watched their antics, and trying to sweet talk them into eating peanuts from his hand. No matter how many times Gran told him that lizards don’t eat peanuts, it was news to him every time, and he’d get upset if the staff tried to take the peanuts away.

Although the late afternoon sun had dipped far enough toward the horizon to make it bearable, Addison still found it overly warm, but both of her grandparents were wearing cardigans. Every other resident in the nursing home seemed to be too. It was like some sort of senior citizen dress code, along with various shades of loafer.

A lizard, bolder than the rest, zipped past her grandfather’s shoe. He lurched forward, as though trying to catch it, and almost toppled out of his wheelchair. Addison steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t chase after them like that, Gramps. You’re going to fall.”

“Oh, Pammie, quit being so overprotective. I’m not a child,” he grumbled.