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“Get that guy!” Paul ordered, thumbs working like mad on the controller.
Finn toggled his character’s rifle left toward the enemy soldier and opened fire. Blood spurted, and the man fell. “Got him.”
“Good, now get your ass over here and back me up.”
They’d been playing at Paul’s place for close to an hour now. Or maybe two, Finn wasn’t sure. It was impossible to keep track of time when you were this deep into a game.
Neither one of them moved when the doorbell rang. Then rang again a few seconds later. And yet again, repeatedly this time.
“Who the hell could that be?” Paul muttered in annoyance, glancing toward the front door at the end of the hall.
Obnoxious, impatient pounding came next.
“Jeez, calm down,” Paul said, reluctantly putting down his controller and striding for the door.
Finn kept playing, paying hardly any attention to his friend, until other voices registered from the foyer. One more distinct than the others.
Grant.
He glanced at the living room doorway just as rapid treads approached. Grant appeared there a moment later, eyeing him. “Get up, loser,” he said with a grin. “We’re going for a ride.”
The last thing Finn felt like doing was hanging out with Grant, much less going for another ride to deliver more drugs. He looked at Paul, who hung back in the hallway, hands in his pockets, an uncertain expression on his face.
Finn got the message. Paul would go along with whatever he did.
“I’m good,” he said to Grant, two other guys now standing on either side of him. “Paul and I are in the middle of a game.”
Grant rolled his eyes, strode over to the console and turned it off. “Now come on, dude.”
Clenching his jaw to hold back an angry retort, Finn glanced at Paul. His friend shrugged, apparently resigned to spending the rest of the night with these guys instead of hanging out here, as originally planned.
Finn wanted no part of it. “You guys go ahead. I’m gonna head home. Gotta work in the morning.”
“Uh-uh, you’re comin’ with us,” Grant said, grabbing Finn’s arm and towing him down the hall.
Short of yanking away and starting an argument that wouldn’t end well for him, Finn tamped down his irritation and didn’t resist, shrugging into his jacket on the way to Grant’s SUV. Sooner he did what they wanted, the sooner it’d be over. And after tonight he seriously had to rethink hanging out with Paul.
At least he got an actual seat in the back with a seatbelt this time, but he still couldn’t shake the unease coiling in his gut as Grant headed across town to the coastal highway and turned south. “Where we going?” he finally asked, already kicking himself for not sticking to his guns about going home.
“Got a little errand to take care of,” Grant answered evasively.
They stopped at the same apartment complex as before. Grant parked at the curb where a guy in his late twenties or early thirties stood waiting for them on the sidewalk in a black winter coat. Finn said nothing, watching everything in silence as the front passenger rolled down his window.
The guy in the black coat leaned in, scanning them all. “Who’re they?” he asked, staring at him and Paul.
“Guys from school. They’re all right,” Grant answered. “What’ve you got for me?”
The guy held Finn’s gaze for a long, unnerving moment, then passed a padded envelope over to Grant. “I’ll text you the drop address. Get moving. This guy won’t wait around if you’re late.”
Finn mentally groaned as Grant shoved the envelope beneath his seat. Great. Now he was part of a drug deal. Awesome.
The guy in the coat walked away. Grant checked his phone for the address, plugged it into his GPS, and they were off. Speeding south toward Crimson Point along the darkened coastal highway minutes later, music blaring, Grant and the front passenger laughing at whatever they were talking about.
“Can you let me off at the next turn? I’ll walk home from there,” Finn said, hating everything about this. Pissed off at himself for getting mixed up in it. Why hadn’t he stood his ground?
“Nope. Later,” Grant replied, and turned the music up.
Finn watched with a sinking heart as they sped past the last exit to Crimson Point and continued south. There was no moonlight tonight, a thick layer of cloud completely obscuring it. Out his window, Finn could just make out the whitecaps on the waves as they rolled onto the shore in the distance.
Two towns down the coast Grant turned inland and wound his way up into the hills. Eventually the residential neighborhoods gave way to a thick mass of forest covering the western slope. Where the hell were they going?
As soon as Grant turned onto a deserted dirt road, they were surrounded by massive evergreens on every side. The SUV’s headlights cut through the murky darkness, the beams making the layer of mist hugging the ground shimmer like silver. When they rounded a curve in the road, Finn spotted another vehicle waiting there, taillights glowing like red, evil eyes in the darkness.
His pulse accelerated as Grant slowed to a stop behind it, parked and got out. Finn’s whole body was tense. He watched intently through the windshield, uncomfortable as hell.
A middle-aged man got out of the other vehicle, spoke briefly to Grant, then took the envelope. He checked the contents, studied Grant a long moment and shifted, the SUV’s headlights revealing the deadly black pistol shoved into the front of his waistband.
Finn swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Holy shit.
But just when Finn braced himself for the man to draw his weapon on Grant, instead he reached into his jacket and withdrew a smaller envelope, the right size for a stack of cash, and handed it to Grant. Then he said something else, grinned, and slapped Grant’s shoulder before walking back to his vehicle.
Finn let out a slow breath of relief as Grant came back and got behind the wheel. “You guys hungry?” he asked as he reversed and turned the vehicle around, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Finn didn’t say anything, but Paul and the other guys gave enthusiastic responses. Grant retraced their route back to the highway and started north. Finn suffered through a stop at a fast-food place halfway back to Crimson Point, declining food and saying he wasn’t hungry. Which he wasn’t, because his stomach was all knotted up. He just wanted to get home.
“All right, I’ll take you home now,” Grant said, irritation dripping from every word as he got them onto the road again. “But just so you know, I can make room on my crew for both you guys if you’re interested.”
There was no way in hell Finn was getting involved any deeper in this shit, but when he glanced at Paul, he saw his buddy was giving him an encouraging look. Like he was considering it and wanted Finn to get in on it too.
Dude, are you serious?
“Money’s way better than anything you’ll make in Crimson Point,” Grant added over the music as they sped through the darkness.
Finn kept his mouth shut, but Paul said he’d think about it.
For Finn there was nothing to think about. This was fucking insane, and even if he had been tempted to make easy money doing illegal shit, Finn lived literally next door to the sheriff. Also, his mom would freak the fuck out if she knew what was going on right now.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached his house and Finn allowed himself to take a full breath again. His mom’s car was in the driveway, the multicolored lights he and Ryder had put up glowing cheerily in the night.
The moment the SUV came to a stop, Finn had his seatbelt off and the door open. “See you,” he muttered, already climbing out.
“Yeah, man,” Paul said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you too,” Grant said with a smirk in his voice. “See if you’ve changed your mind.”
I won’t.
Without answering either of them, Finn shut the door and hurried around the side of the house, anxious to get inside. He sighed as the SUV disappeared around the corner, the thump of the bass echoing in the quiet.
He was so damn thankful for not being caught with those guys tonight. But there was no way he was hanging out with them again, maybe even Paul, and as of tonight he was cutting contact. Things would be awkward once school started back up and they saw each other again, but he’d deal with it later.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when his mom suddenly stepped out of the living room into the hallway. “Hey,” she said with a smile, cinching the belt on her robe tighter around her waist. She seemed so happy to see him, it made something painful twinge in the middle of his chest. “Where’ve you been?”
Shit, had she been checking the app to locate him? “At Paul’s. A guy from school gave me a ride home.”
She nodded. “You know, you can have friends over here if you want. I won’t bite, and I’ll try not to embarrass you,” she added dryly.
His face heated, guilt and shame bubbling up. He was never having those guys over here. Bad enough that they knew where he lived. He’d probably continue to play online with Paul, but he wouldn’t hang out with him in person anymore. “Yeah. Maybe at some point,” he lied.
“You hungry? There’s leftover chicken and salad in the fridge.”
“Nah, I’m just gonna go to my room.” He took a step, stopped when his mom didn’t move out of his way.
“Kay. Sleep tight,” she said, and hugged him.
Feeling awkward, he stood there, the familiar scent of her perfume triggering a lump in his throat. He returned the hug quickly and let go.
She stepped back, giving him another smile that seemed a bit sad. “Well, goodnight. Love you.”
“You too.”
Escaping to his room, he shut the door and sat down on his bed, exhaling hard and feeling miserable. Moving here away from his home and friends had been shitty, but he realized it could be worse, and he had it a lot better than some. Sheriff Noah and Miss Poppy were cool. The sheriff’s buddies were cool too, Jase, Beckett and Mac. But by far the best thing about moving here so far was meeting Ryder.
At that thought, his gaze strayed across his room to the bookshelf, where the few framed pictures were displayed. Some of him and his dad, and one of his dad in his dress blues. As far as Finn was concerned, his dad had been a hero long before he’d died in that fire trying to save people’s lives.
Staring at his dad’s face, his heart sank. His parents would both be so disappointed if they knew what kind of circle he’d gotten himself involved with here.
Shame burned hot in his belly, followed by a burst of resolve. He was the man of the house now. He needed to do better. Needed to grow up and make the best of things.
He needed to be the kind of person who would make his dad proud.
****
Kyle glanced over at his younger brother, sitting beside him in the front passenger seat of the pickup. “Is it him?”
Josh checked his phone. “Yeah. Got a location. Need to be there in twenty.”
Kyle got them on the highway and headed north up the coast, following Josh’s directions and smirking at the wisecracks about the street names in the area his brother made along the way. “Listen to this one: Blowhole Bottom.” Josh busted out laughing at the latest source of ridicule he’d spotted on the digital map, a familiar, contagious laugh that made it impossible not to smile. “Who the hell names a road that?”
“Someone into blowholes.”
Josh snickered. “Man, people around here have dirty minds.”
“So you’ll fit right in then.”
“Look who’s talking.”
It never failed to amaze Kyle. Somehow, throughout everything that had happened to them, Josh had never lost his sense of humor. Not after their mom died when they were young. Not through the abusive, controlling life they’d lived after that with their dad and psycho bitch of a stepmom.
Even after they’d left home and been living in a shelter, eating at soup kitchens in between odd jobs they’d found to get by, Josh’s smart-ass humor and wit had been the only bright spot in Kyle’s life. He’d made it his responsibility to look after his brother a long time ago. This gig was the first big thing the organization had given them.
It had taken over two years to climb that ladder, and damn near a decade of risky shit before that, earning a rep that had finally gotten them noticed and recruited into where the real money was. The work was dangerous, but it paid well, and they’d almost saved up enough money to buy a house together down in San Fran.
They were low on funds at the moment, and this guy they were meeting always preferred to deal in cash rather than money transfers. In this business, anything that allowed them to fly under the radar was a good thing.
They made it to the drop point with plenty of time to spare, a spot out in a wooded area, high on a bluff above the highway. A few minutes past the appointed meet time, headlights turned the corner behind them.
Kyle squinted against the glare, relaxing slightly when he finally saw the expensive silver Audi sedan coming toward them. “Wait here,” he told Josh.
Josh rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m your kid brother doesn’t mean I’m a kid.”
No, but it was Kyle’s job to protect him, and he didn’t trust the guy they were meeting. He walked toward the other vehicle, watchful.
The other driver stayed where he was, and as per usual, he had someone with him in the front seat. Sometimes it was his step-kid. Tonight, it was muscle.
Kyle walked straight up to the driver’s side window, reassured by the outline of his weapon pressing into the small of his back, and waited while it lowered. “Hey. Got anything new for me?”
Victor handed over a thick envelope full of cash that Kyle tucked away into his waistband and covered with the hem of his shirt. “New shipment needs to be picked up and delivered,” the guy said.
Good. He and Josh needed a big score like this. Human cargo always netted them big money. Another few, and they could finally have some real security for once in their lives.
Kyle pulled out a pen from his inside jacket pocket, along with a receipt. He always wrote the info down rather than storing it in his phone, then flushed it right after the shipment was delivered. He was too paranoid about anyone finding his phone to risk storing important info on it. “Gimme the details.”
Victor listed the contents of the shipment, along with a date, time, and location for both drop off and pickup. Kyle wrote it all down in his special shorthand. He was paranoid about concealing everything, so even if he were to drop a receipt, no one else would have a clue what his notes meant.
With the transaction complete, the Audi drove off, leaving Kyle to walk back to his truck. “So? When’s the next shipment due?” Josh asked when he got in.
“Twenty-sixth.” Three nights from now.
“Cool. I hate waiting around longer than that. Makes me twitchy.”
Him, too. “Here,” he said, pulling some cash out of the envelope and tossing it to his brother. The rest would go in the bank toward the down payment. “This’ll get us through the next couple weeks.”
But this next job would set them up for a lot longer than that.
