Fueling His Hunger (Masters of Adrenaline 2)

Carlos’s eyelids slid back open. “Oh . . . thanks, man! You really are a good friend even if you want to bone my wife.”

“She’s hot. You really don’t deserve her.”

“I know. And she gives a wicked blow job,” he mused. “She looks all uptight, but, man, the girl is freaky.”

Luke winced, wondering how much of this Carlos would remember in the morning.

“I know,” Jimmy mocked. “She sucks my dick when you’re working late, remember?”

“You wish.”

“Gentlemen, focus!” Atlas said, grimacing at Luke. “If we’re not taking you home now, where are we going?”

Carlos looked out the window again. “Luke, you should steal a car.”

“Now?”

Carlos nodded, grinning. “We’ll just sit and watch.”

“You can’t watch around here.” Atlas snorted. “We’d be dropping him off and driving away so security won’t notice him. All these places have security guards and gates and shit.”

“Ohhh. Oh yeah. Never mind.” Carlos shook his head. “I bet you can’t steal a car from one of these places anyway.”

Atlas barked a laugh. “We do it all the time.”

Not quite true. They usually looked for easier marks, but they had done places like this before when the car was worth the risk.

“Bullllshit,” Carlos said, flicking his hand dismissively. “You guys act like you’re badass fucking car thieves, but we know you. It’s not like it is in the movies. You just hack into the car’s system and drive away. Where’s the danger? Where’s the adventure?”

Finding Fox bleeding out on their front lawn immediately came to mind. Marcel, the former leader of the rival group, had shot him, and Fox had barely made it home alive. To make matters worse, Marcel had crashed into a guardrail, been ejected from his car, and died.

That was the worst night of their lives, but they’d had plenty of scrapes with security guards and police over the years. Just two weeks ago a cop had stopped Atlas and run his plates. Their work had plenty of fucking danger, but they couldn’t really tell these guys everything.

“It’s not all fun and games, Carlos,” Atlas said, probably thinking of the Marcel thing. “It’s a business.”

Luke loved these guys, but they didn’t get the risks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Carlos waved him off. “I’m just saying I don’t think you could do it. Like look at that place.” He pointed to the house they were passing, built on a hill, set back from the road. There was a high brick wall around the compound, and a big metal gate to keep out the riffraff that might drive past. The driveway was full of expensive cars. “Must be a party. Security guards everywhere. You’d have to be damn good to steal something out of there. Even you guys aren’t that good.”

“Pull over,” Luke said.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Atlas rumbled.

“Just pull over at that lookout point there.” If Carlos wanted excitement, he’d get excitement.

“Oh shit, man. I was joking.” Carlos glanced around anxiously as Atlas pulled off to the spot that overlooked the city.

“Don’t blow our cover, Carlos. I’m going to get the bag out of the trunk and walk back to the house. Pretend Atlas is your driver, but you and Jimmy are going to have to make out in the backseat to make this believable.”

“Fuck that.” Carlos laughed nervously.

“Come on, Carlos,” Jimmy said reasonably. “You heard the man. Lay one on me. I hope your stubble doesn’t chafe my purdy mouth.”

Carlos quirked a brow. “You wish.” He turned back to Luke. “Seriously, man. Don’t do it. That place had guards patrolling everywhere.” One of his hands, white-knuckled, gripped the shoulder of Luke’s seat. This seemed to be sobering him where the coffee hadn’t.

“I’ll just take a look. If it’s impossible, I’ll be back.” Adrenaline was already starting to pump through Luke’s veins. Lately, he’d wondered several times if he should quit the business, but then a more challenging job like this came up and he’d remember why their work had once seemed like fun.

“Twenty bucks says you can’t do it,” Carlos said, slumping down in the seat and peering back at the road.