“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A young guy growls the greeting a second before the legs of his chair slam down on the concrete. I interrupted him playing that balancing game kids in school always did when they were bored and their chairs weren’t attached to their desk.
Not the best position for a man keeping watch.
“I’m here to see Mike.” Giving the guard any information is generous on my part when I could’ve easily brushed past him before he thought about standing. But I don’t want to play a round of tag where this teenager might decide to win by pulling a weapon.
“He doesn’t just see anyone. And you can’t go in there.” He shoves up from his seat, blocking the door in an unimpressive show of acting as a wall.
I sigh, shaking my head at this boy. Eager to be part of this criminal element but already messing everything up. He’s clueless to the point where I’m tempted to correct his mistakes.
Don’t relax on your watch.
Don’t admit to a stranger that you know who they’re talking about.
Worse, don’t tell them the boss is in the building.
But I’d rather not start a habit of training people to be successful criminals. My real job revolves around teaching people to survive, and this kid seems to have a death wish.
“He’ll see me.” I feign a relaxed posture, leaning back against the wall with my arms crossed. He doesn’t need to know that puts my hand in a perfect position to slip my gun from its holster. “Tell him Luna is here to talk.”
The kid obviously doesn’t like taking orders, his scowl deepening. “Listen, bitch. I’m not telling him anything. You better get the fuck out of here before I stop being nice.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Or to kick him in the nuts. I hate it when a boy calls a woman a bitch just because he’s intimidated by her. It’s like getting spit at. Not technically hurtful, but disrespectful as hell.
“Listen here, gumdrop. I’m not leaving until Mike tells me to. So you better let him know that Luna Lamont wants a word.”
“Wait, what?” The guy blinks in confusion, and I wonder if the disorientation comes from my last name or the nickname I assigned him.
I’ve found that when I want to insult a man, I’m better off inventing a random insult than using the more common ones. If I were to call this boy pencil dick, he’d know right away that I’m insulting his junk, and he’d feel the need to retaliate. But gumdrop? He’s too busy trying to figure out what that means to decide whether he’s going to get mad about it.
Random candy items always seem to hit the right note.
Tootsie roll. Bubble gum. Junior mint.
Used them all.
But almost immediately, I’m bored with watching the ungreased gears slowly try to rotate in his brain. Time to hurry this up. The sooner I’m out of this building, the better.
“I am Luna Lamont. You may have met my brother Leo. Or, of course, my uncle. Mike.”
The kid’s face goes white. Yeah, now he gets it.
Just called royalty a bitch.
Not that I’ve ever been a part of this family business. Still, this guard is low in the scheme of things, I doubt he knows the politics.
“S-sorry. Yeah. I’ll go tell him you’re here.” He scurries from the room.
As the clomp of his footsteps fade, I meander over to the chair he was sitting in, flipping it so the legs stick up in the air. As I wait for the criminal-in-training to retrieve my uncle, I pull out a pocketknife and methodically loosen the screws holding the seat together.
A stuttered sorry is not a good enough apology.
For all I know, Uncle Mike will tell the kid that I’m not part of the organization and to throw me out on my ass. Meaning, the boy will saunter back in here like the shit-for-brains he was just a moment ago.
Not that I want to be thought of as a member of the Lamont chop shop. I’ve hated the family business since I was old enough to understand what was going on with all the different cars my dad drove around in. Bill Lamont never cared what I thought, of course. I was his daughter, therefore I should automatically trust him and keep my mouth shut. I could never manage the first, but I did try with the second, if only for me and my brothers’ safety.
Screws loose and my little revenge complete, I right the chair before returning to my lean against the opposite wall. Soon footsteps sound on the other side of the closed door. I brace myself for the shitty guard to burst back in the room spitting foul curses while dragging me out on my uncle’s orders.
Not that I’d let him put his hands on me.
But when the door swings wide, a familiar figure looms in the entrance.
“Hey, Uncle Mike.”
“Little Luna.” The big white man gives me a grin that could charm weaker souls. I learned long ago how easy his good mood can vanish. “What brings you here?” Cold calculation sparks in his eyes as he tries to decipher the answer before I give it.
“Mind if we talk alone?” My gaze flits over to the guard and then back.
“Of course. Stay here, Troy.” Mike waves the young man back to his post, then gestures for me to follow deeper into the building.
We walk down a long hall illuminated by fluorescent lights. Halfway down I hear a crash behind us and barely suppress my smile. Uncle Mike’s brows lower, and he makes to move back the way we came, but Troy sticks his head through the door. The boy’s face is creased in pain.
“Chair fell over. Nothing to worry about boss. Sorry for the noise.”
Uncle Mike’s jaw tenses, but he moves back in front of me, leading the way. One of the shut doors we pass no doubt opens to the garage where my uncle’s crew dismantles stolen cars and readies the parts to be sold. I wonder if Leo is there now, working a job that slowly eats away at his soul and risks his freedom.
Mike finally opens a door at the end of the hall, revealing a staircase. We climb to the second floor, stepping into an open space with cubicles and offices. He points me into the first and settles behind the desk.
“Sit.” He waves to the chair across from him.
I’d rather stand, but I can see this turning into some type of power battle that’ll have to end with me in a chair because Uncle Mike has something I want and no real reason to give it up.
I sit.
“How are things?” he grunts. “You been by to see your folks?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Legitimate curiosity colors my question. I thought my father reported everything back to his big brother. But maybe not.
Mike’s brows dip, the only indication that he’s in the dark. A place he does not like to be.
“I went by yesterday. My grandmother died, and I was the messenger.”
“Ah. And you’re here because you missed your family? Want to be close to us all again?” He smirks, knowing my answer. The cocky statement still comes out a second too late. I saw the burn in the man’s eyes.
The anger that he was the last to know information about people under his rule, which includes my parents.
I’ll have to remember that.
“I came here because I want to know something.”
Uncle Mike tilts his head.
Trying not to let on how anxious I am to bring up this topic, I keep my voice steady as I ask, “Why’d you let Dash leave the business?”
My younger brother used to steal cars for our uncle, and he was good at it if I heard right. But no matter how good, he got caught. Him and Leo, at the same time, and the pair went to prison. Only when Dash got out, my younger brother started living by the law. Leo went straight back to our uncle.
Mike taps his knuckles on the metal surface of the industrial desk that takes up more than its fair share of the small space. He doesn’t answer right away, seeming to ponder his response.
“We had a financial arrangement,” he offers at last.
I knew about that.
“And his heart wasn’t in it.”
That’s new. Not that Dash stopped wanting to steal, but that Mike cared.
“What does that mean?”
Mike glares hard at me. “Someone who doesn’t want to be in this game is a risk to my business. I need loyalty, even if that loyalty is based off greed. Dash didn’t care about money or driving anymore. He just wanted out. I told him as long as I got refunded all the cash he was worth to me, I’d let him go.”
A small hope springs in my chest.
Could it be that easy?
“If you had someone else who wanted out, as long as you got your money’s worth, they’d be able to walk away?”
Mike pinches at his bottom lip. “Possibly. But some people are worth more to my bottom line than your baby brother.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, my eyes boring into his milky blue ones.
“How much is Leo worth?”