Reckless Road (Torpedo Ink 5)

“You still living with your parents, Perry?” Francine asked. “Because I’m living with my grandmother.” Francine pulled her phone out and was texting. “I’m just letting her know I’ll be late. Maybe you should tell your parents you’ll be out most of the night—or all night.” She sounded seductive.

Perry grinned at her. “I have my own house on the property. I don’t stay in the main house with them. They would make me crazy. They whine at me.” He switched his attention to Zyah. “I’m beginning to give up on you, babe. Francine may be right. You could be a prude. We could have had fun. Come on, Francine. Let’s go.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Francine glared at Zyah defiantly.

Zyah sighed. She was so tired she wanted to yell at both of them to just get out. “Hand over the car keys, Francine. I mean it. You’ve had too much to drink and your license was yanked for DUI already. You’ve got no business driving.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Francine taunted.

Behind Perry and Francine, Destroyer and Keys emerged from the center aisle, almost as if they were ghosts. There was no sound, they just suddenly were there. Two very intimidating men.

“Give her the keys,” Destroyer said, his voice low and harsh. “Do it now.”

Francine whirled around so fast she nearly fell. Perry backed toward the door, his fingers closing convulsively around his sunglasses. “Give her the keys, Francine, and let’s go,” he said.

Francine fished in her purse, found the keys and flung them at Zyah. Hard. The keys struck Zyah just above her left breast, stinging her. Looking smug, giggling with satisfaction, Francine hurried to follow Perry out of the store as Zyah put her hand over the keys to keep them from falling to the floor.

“You all right?” Keys asked.

Zyah blinked back tears, turning to watch as Francine walked toward Perry’s low-slung vehicle. She turned away more so that neither man could see she was emotional than for any other reason. She really didn’t care to see that Perry didn’t even bother to open the door for Francine. She already knew he was a first-class jerk. Francine could barely stand on her own, and when she bent to get into the car, she nearly crawled inside.

“Yeah, I’m just really tired. I want to go home and take a hot bath and go to bed.”

“We don’t do that shit, you know. None of us,” Keys said, his voice very quiet.

Zyah turned back to him because he was very sober. Very sincere. Whatever he was trying to convey was important. And he was being truthful.

“I’m sorry?”

“We don’t make bets like that bitch was telling you. That’s not how Player got his name. She was making shit up. We aren’t like that.”

She flashed him a wan smile. “I’m well aware she is totally full of shit, Keys.” Because she’d been in Player’s mind too many times. She had no idea how he got his name, but she did know it wasn’t the way Francine had told her he had.

“Come on, kid, get your shoes on and let’s get the hell out of this place. Cash out. We’ll do the rest.”

“I can’t leave Lizz’s car here. I’ll drive it to her house. I’ll need a ride home after. I’d walk, but I’m too tired tonight.”

Keys and Destroyer exchanged a long look. Destroyer shrugged. “No worries, we’re following you anyway.”

“I never thought I’d be driving a pink Cadillac,” Zyah said as she went back to work.

“Better you than me,” Keys muttered under his breath. “For a minute there, I was sweatin’ it.”

Destroyer raised an eyebrow. “I was looking forward to it. Kind of thought I’d look cool. Thought maybe I’d ask the old lady if she needed someone to take it around the block once in a while.”

Zyah burst out laughing. “You’re kind of crazy.”

“Yeah, you got that right,” Keys said, but he flashed a small, appreciative smile at Destroyer. The two went about putting things away and locking up while she cashed out completely, taking the money to the back. Ordinarily, she might have put it in the heavy vault, but since the robberies, the money was turned over to her Torpedo Ink escorts, so she was never responsible for it. In the morning, they brought the money needed for start-up.

Just getting into the pink Cadillac should have made her smile. The car was polished and pristine, inside and out, just the way Lizz Johnson kept it. A dark dread crept over her, just as it had in the store, making her feel tired and depressed. She wanted Mama Anat. Just to lie on the bed with her the way she had when she was a child and be comforted by her.

Her grandmother would stroke her hair and make that wonderful trilling sound that vibrated through the room and then turned into a hum that filled her with joy. She would know the world was right. Balanced. That was what she needed. The world to stop being off-kilter. It felt that way. As if she’d walked into a storm and the earth had spun wrong, shifting off its axis just enough to throw her off balance.