Fire Me Up (12 page)

The one place in the entire Blue Ridge where he'd been able to find solace was overrun by redneck loan sharks fleecing sick old men for shits and giggles.

Fucking priceless.

Lonnie smiled, although there was no warmth or humor in the gesture. “I know about lots of things. Not the least of which is that your old man is into me for an awful lot of money, honey. I fixed his payroll problems up real good today, though. Don't you worry about that.”

Teagan's shoulders gave a slight sag, one Adrian might not have even noticed if he hadn't been standing close enough to touch her. “The bounced paychecks weren't an accounting error.”

Lonnie's scoff was answer enough. “'Course, that came with a price, namely the need for bigger collateral than normal since he already owed me. Deed to this here fine bar and grill sounded good enough, and your daddy agreed. He's got one month to pay me back, but 'til he does, I reckon I own a little piece of this place. And I intend to make a little money off it for my trouble.”

Teagan's head whipped up, her ponytail slapping against her shoulder as she nailed Lonnie with a death glare. “You're not running anything illegal out of here. No drugs. Period.”

Apparently, priceless had been an understatement. Adrian couldn't write his ticket back to Rikers better if he was standing over a dead body with a smoking gun and a big, fat
who-me
look plastered to his kisser. He needed to get out of here, the faster the better.

Lonnie shook his head, circling back through the empty space with a look of mock hurt. “I am wounded that you would think so little of me. I don't dabble in illegal substances. Too much risk. I prefer to stay on the security side'a things.”

A cold sweat formed between Adrian's shoulder blades, sending a trickle of moisture and foreboding down his back. “You're running guns.” Moving weapons had become exponentially more challenging in the last five years. He'd heard plenty about it when he'd had nothing but nine months' worth of time to listen.

Lonnie clapped his hands, looking at Adrian with a smug stare. “It seems your boyfriend has been around the block a time or two, honey. Matter of fact, he's got kind of a felonious look about him.” He took a step closer, then another, his shiny black cowboy boots sending an echoing
clack
over the hardwood as his implication thickened the air.

Teagan swung her eyes up at Adrian in disbelief, and seriously, he wanted to beat the crap out of this guy. “I'm not interested in anything felonious.”

“Well, then. I stand corrected.” Lonnie returned his ratlike gaze to Teagan as he continued his prowl around the empty dining room. “You don't have to worry about my outside business endeavors creepin' into your space, darlin'. I ain't stupid enough to shit where I eat. See, what I need is a bookkeeper a sorts. And the books for this place are so nice and legal-lookin', what with it bein' such a fine establishment.”

Adrian's heart locked in his throat as he added money laundering to the top of the pile. Jesus, Big Ed could have him arrested six ways to Sunday for just standing here.

“My father would never agree to this,” Teagan said, as if she was trying to convince herself. “You have to leave him alone. He's sick. He's—”

Lonnie cut her off. “We're past that, darlin'. Your daddy owes me too much. 'Course he was real insistent I not come 'round here and let you in on our little deal. But what kind of business partner would I be if I didn't introduce myself?”

“You can't do this to him. There has to be something else.” Teagan didn't even try to mask the panic in her voice, and it ripped through Adrian despite all the other emotions vying for attention in his chest.

“There's always somethin' else,” Lonnie said, the words slithering out. “He pays me back in full, with interest, of course, and I don't have to mess with nothin'.”

“How much?” Adrian watched Lonnie very carefully as he spoke, and saw exactly the hitch in movement he was looking for when the words hit their target.

“Fifteen large, with yesterday's boost.”

“My father owes you fifteen
thousand
dollars?” Teagan half yelled, and it was the last nail in the self-preservation coffin. Adrian had to end this conversation and get her out of here, now.

“All right, Lonnie. You made your point,” Adrian said, sending a pointed glance to the door. Teagan opened her mouth, presumably to argue, but Adrian kept talking. “Introductions are done. The bar's closed.”

For a second, he thought Lonnie was going to argue, and damn it, this was so not how Adrian wanted things to go down. But then the sleazebag eased back to the doorway, nodding to his brother as they both turned to leave.

“Fifteen grand, sweet pea. You got four weeks to scrape it together better'n your old man did.” His eyes narrowed to a suggestive stare. “I'm lookin' forward to workin' with you as my . . .
bookkeeper
.”

Okay, yeah. Adrian had had enough. He took a step forward at the same time Teagan's spine snapped into place beside him, and Lonnie let out a cackle as he retreated.

“Y'all be safe, now. You never know who's just outside your door.”

A minute later, the side door closed with an audible slam, and Teagan's shoulders slumped at the sound.

“Adrian, I can explain . . .”

But he just shook his head as he looked at her, a splash of hot anger replacing the cold fear of a moment ago. “Nothing to explain, Red. I think we're done here.”

Teagan's heart beat in a frantic game of tag-you're-it with her sternum, and it took every ounce of willpower for her not to throw up on her shoes. She'd been horrified at not figuring out her father was sick enough to need extended medical care. But not realizing he was in enough financial distress to borrow fifteen thousand dollars from a pair of menacing backwoods loan sharks? This was just too much.

And now, to top things off, her only semblance of hope for running this restaurant while she came up with a long-term plan stood across from her, looking furious. Not that she blamed him.

After all, Adrian had flat-out asked her if the Double Shot was on the up-and-up. And she'd flat-out told him yes.

“Right.” Teagan nodded woodenly, her head feeling like it was attached by a spring that had seen one too many upward stretches. Stringing together any passable thoughts, let alone decent sentences, was just a no-go right now, so she didn't even bother trying. Her eyes landed on the door to the kitchen, but the way the legs of the bar stools protruded from their upside-down perches on the thick expanse of wood made her feel closed in, helpless.

No, no, no, no, no. She was going to fix this. She was going to find a way to make this work, just like she'd made the kitchen work all week. She was going to . . .

Throw up. Yeah, she needed to get out of here.
Now
.

“Thanks for sticking around tonight. I . . . I have to go.” Fear and anger and every other negative emotion on the planet balled up in the lowest part of Teagan's belly, prompting her to bolt through the door to the kitchen. She smacked the light switches to the
off
position out of pure habit, plunging the space into shadowy darkness. The emergency lights flickered overhead, giving just enough illumination for her to snatch her coat and keys from the pegs in the alcove leading to the side door.

“You didn't know, did you?” Adrian stared at her, completely unmoving, framed by the industrial white tile and aged wood doorframe of the entryway to the alcove.

“No. I . . . no. I'm sorry.” Lame, yes, but it was the only thing she could think of to say, and plus, he deserved it. Just because she hadn't misled him on purpose didn't mean she hadn't misled him.

And she knew just how it felt. God, how could she have failed so spectacularly at taking care of her father?

Adrian nodded, a tiny jerk of his darkly stubbled chin. “This is dangerous stuff. The kind of stuff I can't . . . be around.” His voice pulled tight over the words even though they were barely a whisper.

Teagan shook her head, her emotions threatening to boil over and spill right out of her onto the floor. “It's okay. I'll take care of this. I don't expect you to help me.” Self-preservation clung tight to her tone, and while she hadn't intended the words to be so defensive, they came out more serrated than sincere.

Adrian moved forward, so fast she didn't realize her corresponding step back would be interrupted by the cold steel of the door behind her until her shoulders bumped against it.

“You don't get it, do you? This isn't the same as breaking up some bar fight, or doing a balancing act in the kitchen for a couple of weeks. These guys are the real deal, and they won't hesitate to take you down. Permanently.”

Teagan's anger elbowed its way to the forefront, hot and bitter in her mouth as she pushed forward to regain her original position, even though it meant standing so close to Adrian, her chest brushed against his sling.

“And I thought Lonnie just dropped by to play checkers. Believe me, Adrian, I get it. But I have to fix it, okay? I can't just walk away from this. He's my father.”

This time, Adrian flinched. “Lonnie wasn't wrong.”

“I know my father probably borrowed money from him, but—”

“Not about your old man. About me.”

The words trickled in, but Teagan still couldn't connect them to the conversation. “What are you talking about?”

He shifted, his eyes the turbulent green gray of Big Gap Lake after a huge storm. “I have forty-three days left on parole. When I said I can't be around stuff like this, I wasn't kidding.”

Shock streaked through her with surgical precision, cutting deep. “You're on parole?”

Adrian met the question head-on. “Five years ago, I did a nine-month stint in Rikers.”

Holy shit, her night officially couldn't get any worse. “For what?”

“For being stupid,” he grated, his expression all remorse. “I made a bad choice and I paid for it. But my parole officer is a crusty old bastard who wants nothing more than to toss me back in the clink and swallow the key.”

Oh God. No wonder he'd been so adamant about the bar being on the straight and narrow. “Is that why you didn't want me to pay you?”

“It's part of it, yeah.”

Teagan's mind spun like a blender set to
triple scramble
. He'd only served nine months, and no way in hell could she see Adrian doing something truly malicious. But still . . .

“Did you steal anything?”

“No.”

She exhaled shakily. “Have a drug problem?”

“No.”

Her gut dropped down to her knees. “You didn't . . . kill anybody, did you?”

“No.” Adrian pressed his mouth into a thin line, and he jammed his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Look, I think you need to have a really long talk with your old man. If the two of you can figure out a way to pay Lonnie off before he gets his claws into the books here, the dirtbag will have no choice but to go away.”

Teagan blinked, switching gears at a dizzying pace. No way could it be that easy. “You really think Lonnie will just go away if we pay him back?”

“I know it. Guys like that are bullies. All that cheesy bravado only works because he has something on you, namely the cash. Once you take away his leverage, he won't have anything to hold over your heads, and he'll move on to the next guy who owes him. I'm sure he's got several to pick from, and in the end, all that keeps guys like Lonnie afloat is money and not getting caught.”

“And what if I can't come up with the money fast enough?” God, she hated the wavering edge in her voice. The least she could do was stay strong enough to deal with this.

“Then Lonnie will use it against you, like he said. A restaurant is the perfect front for dirty funds. If he's running guns, he's probably got more illegal cash flow than he can handle.” Adrian paused. “Look, I know he said he wouldn't mess with the actual restaurant for now, but you're going to need to be straight with Brennan and Jesse about this. You might think you're ten feet tall and bulletproof, but until you get this nailed down, it's not safe for anyone to be here alone.”

Realization hit her in a swift stroke. “But you're not staying.”

Adrian's jaw went tight, and the step he took to close the space between them this time wasn't predatory. “Teagan, I . . .”

She reached up and brushed her fingers over his lips, just a brief touch to stop the words from coming. “It must be serious if you're actually using my name.” The awkward attempt at humor thudded like a ten-ton brick between them, but God, she was seriously at the tipping point here. Of course Adrian couldn't stick around. Who in his right mind would in the face of what had just happened, past or no past?

“It's serious,” he agreed, his expression matching his ragged voice. “My parole officer won't care that I had nothing to do with this, or that I'm only trying to help you. And it's not just me who goes down if I screw this up. My boss vouched for me when we left New York, so her name's on the line, too. I want to help you.” He lifted his hand as if he intended to touch her face, but then pulled back at the last second. “But I don't know how.”

“I understand,” Teagan said, and she did. This was her problem to fix, and anyway, she couldn't ask Adrian to risk going back to jail, no matter how weirdly right he made the kitchen feel to her. “I'll talk to Brennan and Jesse first thing tomorrow. We'll figure something out. And of course, I'll have a nice, long chat with my dad.” Her anger made a repeat performance in her chest, but she tamped it down. She'd have plenty of time for fire and brimstone in the morning. Right now, she was just spent.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

Teagan noticed it wasn't a question, but in truth, she was too tired to argue. Plus, while she could hold her own in lots of situations, the thought of having to square off against Lonnie again, or worse yet, his gargantuan brother, Trigger, made her skin crawl. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

For a second, neither of them moved, and they stood there, as close as they could be to touching without actually taking the plunge.

“I'm sorry,” Adrian whispered, the words so laced with emotion, Teagan's throat knotted over the
it's okay
brewing there. Unable to speak, she just nodded, then turned to move through the side door and into the cool, spring night.

She took four steps through the side service lot before realizing something was off. The overhead light that normally spilled illumination over the Dumpster and the area beyond was strangely dark, leaving the moon to cast only murky shadows over the entire section of asphalt. Something hard and small crunched under her boots, and she pulled to a stop in confusion at the same exact moment Adrian reached out with his uninjured arm to hold her in place.

“Jesus.” He moved in front of her, head shifting from side to side in a quick scan of the narrow lot. Although her heart slammed in her chest, she at least had the wherewithal to turn her back to Adrian's to do the same behind them.

“I think it's empty,” she said after a minute, and the waver in her voice felt vulnerable and permanent.

Adrian hissed out a low oath, then another as he pulled his back from hers. “I don't see anybody, either.”

Teagan stepped around him, gut clenching like an industrial vise as she saw the smashed-out window and slashed back tire on the Corolla. Bits of shattered safety glass crackled and popped under her feet as she moved toward the car, and it took every ounce of her ironclad resolve not to let the tears burning her eyes tumble down her face.

“I guess Lonnie's more serious than I thought,” she managed, and oh God, she'd need a bloody miracle to fix this.

Adrian nodded, eyes glittering in the moonlight. “Come on. Let's get your tire changed, then I'll follow you home.”

 

 

All things considered, the Harley didn't look as bad as Adrian had thought it would.

His life, on the other hand? Definitely as fucked up as it appeared.

“So what do you want first, the good news or the bad?” Shane Griffin leaned back against the garage workbench adjacent to where Adrian stood, trying like hell to focus on what was in front of him instead of what he'd left behind last night. Shane had been cool enough to meet him early even though Grady's Garage wasn't normally open until nine, so he'd have to deal with thoughts of his shitastic night and even more shitastic situation later.

“Let's get the bad over with.”

Shane winced slightly, jamming his thumbs through the belt loops on his well-aged Levi's. “I might not be right about this, so take it for what it's worth. But I don't think there's any way you can get around replacing your gas tank.”

Adrian knew he should be more disgruntled—after all, the bike was the closest thing to a prized possession he'd ever owned, and the gas tank was one of the most expensive parts outside of the engine. Somehow, though, he just couldn't muster the appropriate piss and vinegar. “Okay.” He closed his eyes, like maybe when he opened them he'd be somewhere else.

Shane continued, his tone as apologetic as if he'd crashed the bike himself. “Like I said, I might not be right. My expertise is more in the four-wheel department. But if I had to guess . . .”

Right. The gas tank was history. “You said there was good news?”

“Oh yeah.” Shane nodded, coming over to crouch down by the laid-out Harley. “Some of the damage is small, easy enough to fix with a couple parts from a distributor. Like the rearview and stuff. I can order them from my guy and swap them out at cost, no problem.”

“I'll pay you for labor,” Adrian said, his brow pulling in, but Shane waved him off.

“Consider us even for the crappy news about the gas tank.” The guy paused, letting out a slow breath as he stood. “Look, I kind of suck at this, so I'm just going to say it. Bellamy and Carly are worried about you.”

If there was one thing on the planet he needed less than redneck loan sharks, it was his friends' pity. But Carly's no-coming-back-until-you've-healed edict had left zero ambiguity. Despite his flat-out admission that he needed the kitchen, she'd kicked him out.

She couldn't have her cannoli and eat it, too.

“I know,” Adrian said, since it was the only thing he could manage without sounding bitter or getting mad, neither of which would accomplish anything right now. “I got their messages.”

“Personally, I get that you probably operate a lot differently than they do, and I have a hunch you don't want to talk about it. But if something's upsetting my wife and I can do anything about it . . . let's just say I'm going to give it my all. For her and for you.”

Damn. It was hard to argue with that. “Understood.”

Shane stood to lean against the wooden workbench behind them, tacking on a self-deprecating shrug. “So do you think, in the interest of your personal peace and mine, you could maybe throw me a bone here? Because I gotta tell you, man. You're looking rough, and they
are
gonna ask me.”