“Wow, Sis,” Dante turned slowly, examining what she’d accomplished. “I can’t believe how much you’ve done. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks. I can’t believe it’s happening. I’ve got a couple of bruises where I’ve pinched myself, to make sure it’s real.”
Dante’s arm came around her shoulder, and Jill leaned her head against him. For the last several days, she’d worked every spare second, whipping the new bakery space into a semblance of order. Unfortunately, her old boss held her to the two weeks’ notice she’d given. She found herself driving back and forth to work at the insurance company, slogging away at the mundane number crunching. Knowing it was temporary, her heart’s dream within her grasp, made it bearable. Although her tail dragged, she worked late into the night every night, cleaning, scrubbing, and painting, until she fell into bed exhausted. Only to repeat the entire process the next day.
“You deserve this.” He sighed and squeezed her tight, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “I know it’s my fault you never got the chance to do this sooner. If I’d gotten my act together, stayed away from Junior and his guys, you’d already have the bakery.”
“Dante, you made a mistake.” At his raised brow, she chuckled. “Okay, fine, you made a bunch of mistakes, screwed up more times than I can mention. But you haven’t gone back, right?”
“Nope. I promise I’m steering clear of the whole gang.”
“Good. I know it’s hard, but it’s for the best. You’ve got a problem, but I swear you’re doing the right thing. No more poker. No more slots. No gambling at all. It’s the only way you’ll stay clean.”
“It’s harder than I thought. I spent almost every day with those guys. Nights in their garages playing Texas Hold ’Em or blackjack. Sometimes we’d go do some slots and video stuff. Smoke a little weed. Getting high and gambling aren’t a good combination, and I got in over my head. Gotta tell you, I never knew those guys were part of an illegal ring. They’re my friends. We played friendly games for penny ante stakes—until we moved things to the club. Then everything escalated.”
“Don’t do it again, and we’re square.” Jill shuddered at the memory of the large men who’d met her at the door of her apartment several weeks ago. They’d demanded payment of Dante’s poker debt. Holding her bruised and broken brother draped between them, it would’ve been obvious to a blind man he’d been roughed up. More like beaten to a bloody pulp. Bruises and bloody streaks decorated his face. Even now, she remembered the stark terror in his eyes. The reality of what he’d done filled her with disgust and loathing for the monsters preying on the weak. And her brother was weak.
Dante had looked pathetic, held between two large men smelling of stale beer and greasy fast food. They’d stood behind a man, obviously their leader, her brother’s body drooping, his legs unable to hold his body’s weight. The middle-aged man, dressed impeccably in a navy suit and blue and white striped tie, called the shots from the way the others never made a move without his approval. He wasn’t tall, probably the same height as her, but he’d exuded an aura of power impossible to ignore. His dark hair was swept back, accentuating the sharp angles and craggy planes of his face. If he’d been smiling, or even showing a modicum of civility, he might have been considered attractive. Instead, goosebumps leapt to attention all over her, and she knew he was dangerous. It was impossible to tell much about him, though he’d barked out an order in Spanish when one of the goons holding Dante backhanded her brother across the face.
His eyes, though, she remembered those. They’d been icy cold. They contained an eerie empty blackness, devoid of any spark of life within their obsidian depths. Whatever soul he might have possessed had long since been lost, because there wasn’t a whiff of humanity visible. A shiver raced down her spine at the memory.
Money. Everything came down to money. The grim-faced leader calmly explained to Jill her brother was beholden to him, owed him a debt. A rather large sum he’d racked up, and he was late paying it back. Dante’s pleading look from swollen and bruised eyes tugged at her, but she’d sworn she wasn’t giving him any more money. Over the last several months, he’d been hitting her up for small amounts. Fifty here, a hundred there, but she’d finally wised up and cut him off.
Until that night.
“Jill?”
She shook her head and took a step back. “Sorry, I was thinking about how much more I’ve gotta do to get this place open.” Grinning up at her baby brother, she noticed how tall he’d gotten. When had her little bro grown up?
“Well, I’m here. How can I help?
“Wait, you’re serious? You’re volunteering to work? Okay, who are you and where is my real brother?”
“Don’t be a dork. I’m a pretty decent worker. At least, that’s what Frank says. If business keeps picking up, he’s going to give me some more hours.”
Jill hugged Dante, squeezing extra hard, because this was the best news. “That’s great! I am so proud of you. You’ve really turned things around.”
Dante’s expression turned serious. “I had my eyes opened the hard way. When they threatened you, threatened our folks—Jilly, I know I’m a stone-cold idiot. I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry enough for what I put you through, but at least I can be your muscle around here. You know, since you’re so puny.”
“I’ll puny you,” Jill quipped, taking a playful swat at him.
“Seriously, Sis, I’ve got a few hours. Put me to work.”
Giving him a playful push, she pointed him toward the back, which still needed the most work. During her late night work-a-thons, she’d focused most of her attention on fixing up the public area. The equipment supply place in Austin couldn’t get the ovens or industrial refrigeration units to her for another two weeks, so she’d directed her energies into cleaning and sprucing up the area people would see first.
The kitchen area, on the other hand, needed a heavier hand. Ms. Patti was coming on Saturday and bringing along Douglas and ‘extra hands’, as she’d put it. Jill knew that meant one or more of the Boudreau brothers would be corralled into doing all the heavy lifting. But with Dante here, she might as well let him reach the things she couldn’t. Like those giant cobwebs on the light fixtures and in the corners, and running a broom over the highest parts of the walls. They needed a good cleaning before any painting could be done.
“Uh, maybe I spoke too soon. It’s gonna take a miracle worker to get this ready.”
“Well, it’ll only get done if we do it. There’s a ladder leaning against the back wall, next to the door. Grab it, and let’s get busy.”
Dante gave her a jaunty salute. “You’re the boss.”
And didn’t that have a nice ring to it? Jill smiled, hands on her hips, and looked around her tiny kingdom.
He’s right. I am the boss, and I’m going to succeed. Nothing and nobody is going to stop me. Look out, Shiloh Springs, because I’m about to rock your world.
Friday afternoon, Lucas pulled up in front of Frank’s Garage. He’d been partway to the Big House when he’d heard the sputtering and sizzling sound, one he recognized. The water pump was going out, and he’d babied, begged, and pleaded with his car to make it to town. Parking in front of one of the open bays, he climbed out and headed toward a pair of coverall-encased legs beneath a car with the hood raised.
“Frank?”
“Be with ya in a sec,” came the gruff reply from beneath the car.
Lucas headed toward the tiny one-room office, where Frank did all his billing. There were two metal folding chairs sitting beneath the one window, currently covered with blinds. A blinking neon sign flashed over a metal desk, stacked high with papers and folders, with no rhyme or reason and most definitely no organization Lucas could fathom. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out enough money to grab a Dr Pepper from the machine, because he knew Frank’s be-with-ya-in-a-sec could mean anything from a couple of minutes to half an hour, depending on how much cursing came from the garage.
He got lucky, because it was only five minutes before Frank ambled into the office, wiping his hands on an oily cloth. A huge grin broke across his face when he spotted Lucas.
“Long time, no see. How’s the big city treating ya?”
“Can’t complain. I’m home for a visit, and it sounds like the water pump quit.”
“What are ya driving these days?”
“Same thing I’m always driving, Frank. The old Impala you gave me when I turned eighteen.”
Frank chuckled and then started to cough. Lucas rushed across the space and thumped him on the back a couple of times. He didn’t like the sound coming from his friend. Watched the older man run his hand across his mouth, and give an almost imperceptible wince.
“Can’t believe you still got her. She’s a beaut. You better be treating her good.”
“Like a princess. She’s got her own parking space in a garage, so she’s out of the elements, and I make sure she’s kept in tiptop condition. But she’s over twenty years old, so normal wear and tear happens.”
“Lemme take a look see. Water pump, huh?”
Lucas followed Frank out to the Impala and popped the hood. He bent over and took a look, and then a deep breath. “Well, looks like you’re right. I gotta check to see if I’ve got the part in stock. If not, I’ll have to get it from Austin, and it might be tomorrow before it gets here. You okay with that?”
“Not going anywhere, so it’s fine.”
Frank closed the hood, and ran a hand over it lovingly. “She’s looking good. Glad you’re taking care of her. Grand lady she is, treat her right and she’ll be on the road for another twenty, maybe thirty years.”
“And if I have my way, she’ll still be mine. You know I love the old gal.” Lucas patted the hood lovingly. “I remember the summer we worked on her together. She wasn’t much to look at, but by the end of August, she was purring like a kitten with a belly full of cream. And since that television show has an Impala in it, you should see the looks my baby gets when I turn her loose on the streets.”
Frank gave a gruff laugh. “Don’t tell anybody, but I watch that show, so I can see the cars. Especially the ones the old guy has in his junkyard.”
Lucas bit his cheek to hold back his laugh. He’d guessed Frank would know about the cult classic supernatural show. It was a little bit quirky—like Frank himself.
“Need a lift? Dante should be back any minute, and he can give ya a ride.”
“Dante? You mean Dante Monroe?”
Frank nodded and headed back for the office. “Yeah, he’s been helping out around here part-time. Kid’s a bit flighty, but he’s got a good heart. Heard he had a bit of a problem in the past, but he’s buckled down and got his head on straight.”
Lucas thought about Jill’s little brother. He hadn’t seen much of him since he’d been back this time, except once at her place only in passing. Dante had encouraged his sister to go out with him.
“I’m good. I’ll call and have one of my brothers pick me up.”
“Alrighty. I need to get back under that one.” He gestured toward the foreign sedan he’d been working on when Lucas pulled up. “It’s a righteous mess. I wish people took care of their cars, but most of ’em today think of cars as disposable. Mess one up, get another.” He shook his head, laid on the mechanic’s creeper, and slid under the sedan.
Lucas headed to Frank’s office, pulling his cell out of his pocket. Which brother should he call? Before he could decide, a white Toyota pulled up and parked beside the garage. Dante jumped from the driver’s seat, a paper sack in one hand. Tall and slender, he’d matured a bit since Lucas left Shiloh Springs. He hadn’t kept tabs on the younger man; it hurt too much to think about anything connected with Jill.
“Hey, Lucas! That your Impala out front? She’s really something!”
“Thanks. Got her from Frank when I turned eighteen. Have had her ever since.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Water pump went out.”
Dante nodded. “Frank will get her fixed right up. Gimme a second, I’ve got to let Frank know his food’s here.”
“No problem. I need to call one of my brothers to give me a ride.”
Dante stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. “I can take you wherever you need. Besides, I’d like the chance to catch up a bit. It’s been a while since we talked.”
Zap.
“Sure. Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”
Lucas wasn’t sure why his instinct was screaming for him to take the ride from Dante; all he knew was it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. Now all he had to do was figure out what triggered his investigator’s radar, and the only way to do that was to talk.
With Dante.