Swerve: Boosted Hearts (Volume 1) (3 page)

He needed her to get out of his truck so he could blast the air-con all the way home, cool his blood, because right now, he was
burning the hell up
. “You got keys?”

She seemed to snap out of it, whatever
it
was. The dazed expression washed from her face. “No…I. Crap.” She turned to him. “I don’t have my keys. Kayla took them when she bailed on me. Edna, my neighbor, might have a spare set.” She glanced out the window toward the trailer next to hers. All the lights were out. Her brow scrunched.

He shoved open his door. “I got it.”

Reaching into the bed of his truck, he got what he needed to pick the lock from his tool box then joined her at the door. He had it open in ten seconds.

“How did you do that?”

“Tools of the trade.”

Her brow scrunched again. “I thought you were a mechanic?”

“People lock keys in their cars all the time. Every good mechanic has a set of lock picks.”
So does every good car thief.

“Oh. Right.”

He turned the door handle and pushed it open. “Night, Shay.”

She glanced up at him, teeth sinking into her bottom lip again, before her tongue darted out to slide across it. “Do you want…?”

“I better get going.” Before he made things worse and kissed her, tasted her like he was desperate to.

“Okay,” she rasped in a way that set tingles off at the base of his spine.

“Later, babe.” Then he turned away, left her standing at her door, and got the hell out of there.

Knowing full well that later would never come.

* * *

Shay tugged at the front of her shirt. The uniform at Woody’s came in two sizes—tight or tighter. Even wearing a minimizing bra, her boobs looked like two overblown cantaloupes trying to jiggle out the top of her shirt. And don’t get her started on the required skinny jeans that hid nothing. She was all wobbly belly, boobs and butt, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her disaster of a relationship with Travis meant she’d been forced to leave her job at TBS Design. Desperate for money, she’d taken whatever she could get. She’d loved what she did at TBS, but so far, she’d found no other fulltime position. So, in the meantime, she worked at Woody’s four nights a week. She also did three half days at Raggedy Janes, a pre-loved clothing shop, which was conveniently only a short walk from The Happy Armadillo Trailer Park. In between that, she did whatever graphic design work she could pick up from home.

Because of Travis—and her own naivety and lack of judgment—her career had taken a nosedive, not to mention her standard of living. As much as she loved the trailer park—it was home, after all, where she’d lived most of her life—she missed her old apartment. She missed the furniture she’d been forced to sell. She missed having space. The saying “couldn’t swing a cat” came to mind, though in her case, it was more like “couldn’t swing a gerbil.”

Vinnie filled her drinks order, and she loaded up her tray.

He looked beyond her shoulder. “It’s gonna be a busy night.”

Woody’s was always busy. The dive bar was a popular hangout for a large and varying crowd. College kids, business types, employees from the mall a short walk away, and most nights they had at least ten guys from the construction firm down the road.

This was also where some of her ex-coworkers frequented, including Travis, which was not ideal but how she’d gotten the job in the first place. She knew a couple of the waitresses pretty well, and when she needed a job, they’d set her up with an interview. Thankfully, she didn’t work Fridays when the TBS staff came in for after-work drinks.

“I better deliver these before people start getting restless.” Sliding her tray off the bar, she weaved her way through the crowd toward her section. All her tables were full. Once again, she wished her trailer was big enough for a full-sized tub. A shower just didn’t cut it after a night on her feet.

She delivered the drinks and headed to the booth at the back to take their order. The corner was always dimly lit and after coming from the bar where the lights were a lot brighter, her eyes always needed a minute to adjust. Which was why she was standing, hip to table, leaning forward to hear her customer’s order over the music, before she saw who was sitting there.

Oh, dear God.

Her mountain man.

She blinked, then blinked again.

Only she wasn’t seeing things. He was sitting right there, big body lounged back, warm chocolate eyes locked on her.

Crap.

You’re not interested, I’ll drop you home then I’m gone, no problem. But if you are, say the word, and I’ll spend the night making you come so hard you’ll forget your own name.

His huskily spoken words had been stuck in a loop in her head since he said them three days ago. He’d shocked her with his frankness. He’d also turned her on beyond all reason. But he’d mistaken her warring emotions—the strong reaction she had to him, followed by her attempt at ignoring all commonsense, and her ever-present insecurities—for fear. She hadn’t been afraid; she just hadn’t known how to tell him what she wanted.

She’d actually convinced herself to go for it. Then he’d read her wrong, and she’d been too much of a coward to set him straight. She could almost see her grandmother jumping for joy when she climbed in the car with him—then shaking her head in disappointment when she let the opportunity pass, and he drove away.

His dark brown eyes were still locked on her, did not falter. She quivered. All over. A sizzle of electricity moved over her skin and just like that, she was sucked back into the big man’s magnetic force field. She swallowed hard and fought the sudden urge to climb into his lap and wrap herself around him like a python.

“Shay?”

She jumped at the sound of her name coming from his lips, as if he’d snuck up on her and shouted, “Boo!”

He smiled.

The man really was ridiculously handsome. Things started tingling down below. She cleared her throat. “It’s nice to see you again.”

His gaze moved over her, before coming back to her face. “Glad to see you’re not walking the other way.”

No. She wasn’t, she was leaning so far forward her boobs were almost resting on his chin. She straightened quickly, and his smile turned into a grin.

“Well, that might just get me fired.” She was trying for easy confidence but didn’t think she pulled it off. Not when he sat so completely at ease, those solid, muscled arms resting on the table, his thick fingers, rough and grease stained, held in loose fists in front of him. His shoulders relaxed and so wide, the sight of them made her heart whiz around in her chest like a stuck balloon deflating.

“Wouldn’t want that, sweetheart,” the guy with him said.

She hadn’t even noticed him sitting there. He was a leaner version of her mountain man. He had tattoos on his forearms, extremely short hair, and instead of a full beard, he looked as if he hadn’t shaved in several days. They had to be related.

He was grinning at her, as well.

She shook off her humiliating stupor. She was there to take their drink order, not stare like a nutcase. “So what’ll it be, boys?”

What’ll it be, boys?

She’d never uttered that phrase in all her twenty-five years of existence. She sounded like a gum chewing, cliché diner babe with an attitude problem.

The other man’s eyes crinkled around the edges before he rubbed one tattooed hand across his cropped hair. “A couple beers should do it.”

“Okeydokey.” She inwardly winced.

“How long’ve you worked here?” her mountain man rumbled.

Yes, rumbled
, pulling her attention back to him.

She had to clear her throat.
Again
. “Um, about two months.”

His brow lifted, but he said no more, just stared at her in a way that made her want to squirm.

“I’ll just”—she pointed to the bar—“get your drinks.” Then she hustled in the opposite direction quick smart, before she fell on the floor and had a mini heart attack at his feet.

She’d never been more thankful that the bar was crazy busy. With her tables full she had an excuse to deliver their drinks and run. But as hard as she tried to ignore them—ignore
him
—she couldn’t. Not when she felt his gaze on her the entire time, burning so hot her nipples tingled, and between her legs throbbed and ached to the point of distraction.

Her grandmother’s voice echoed through her mind.
If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a damn door, Cupcake.

Did she want to build a door? And if she did, was she brave enough to walk though it?

Hugh lifted his beer and took a deep pull. The bar was busy…busy enough no one would notice when it came time to do business. He seriously needed to be on his game for this, but all he could think about, all he could focus on was the lush redhead moving around the bar in painted-on jeans and a shirt that clung to her soft, round tits.

He’d thought he’d never see her again.

But here she was.

“That the redhead Adam popped an artery over?” Joe asked from across the table, forcing Hugh’s attention away from her.

“That would be her.”

His brother flicked at the label on his beer. “I see the appeal.”

Hugh grunted. Joe, like Hugh, preferred his women on the curvier side.

“Going back for seconds?”

“Nothing happened.” And he still cringed at the way he’d handled things that night, the way he’d screwed up.

Joe’s brows lowered. “Why the hell not?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

His brother snorted. “You’re the one staring at her as if you plan on knocking her on the head and carrying her home to your cave.”

Yeah. That’s exactly how he was looking at her. There was no point denying it, so Hugh just stared at his brother, not taking the bait.

Joe scowled, gaze sliding across the bar to Shay, then back, and Hugh knew the subject of the hot redhead he’d taken for a ride in a stolen car hadn’t been dropped.

“Yanno, I don’t really give a shit if you don’t want to talk about it—this has to be said. What in the hell did you think you were doing, bringing some random to the garage? Yeah, she’s hot, and I can’t for the life of me work out why you didn’t tap that, but shit, I had to talk Adam down.”

Hugh scowled back. “He can talk.” Their friend was no doubt off screwing his brains out right now. A different woman every night. But then who the hell was Hugh to judge? They all had their issues.

“Yeah, but he didn’t take some babe for a joyride in a stolen car, numb nuts.” Joe shook his head. “Look, I don’t care what anyone says, you’re not a giant freak to me…you’re just…abnormally proportioned.” Joe patted his hand. “Lucky for you, there are chicks out there with sasquatch fetishes. I get you gotta go for it when the offer’s there…”

Hugh shoved his brother’s hand off. “Dick.”

“Buuut, we’re
this
close to the finish line; why risk blowing everything to shit now?”

Guilt knifed through him. Joe was right. His younger brother was a clown, a joker, never took any-damn-thing seriously, but for once, Joe was spot on. Hugh had already failed his family enough. He’d let their old man screw up their lives repeatedly when he should have stepped up, when he should have kicked the fucker out. Not let him come crawling back again and again. They were in this mess because of Hugh. Because he’d been too damn blinded by the old man’s bullshit, his promises of “never again”, to see just how deep he’d sunk. Hugh had failed his mom, his brother and his sister. Put them in danger—turned his brother into a goddamn criminal.

He sipped his beer, ignoring the suffocating guilt tightening around his chest. “I have no answer for you.”

“Jesus.” Joe slumped back.

You’d think the guilt over what he’d done, what he’d risked, would have killed the hard-on he had for Shay. Nope. No chance. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, had stroked his cock to thoughts of her every night since he’d met her.

Joe dragged a hand over his buzz cut. “So what time’s this cocksucker supposed to show?”

His baby bro never did have much patience, even as a kid. “He’s got another ten minutes.”

Joe fidgeted, shredding the cardboard coaster that had been under his drink. “I’m sick to fucking death of this. Seriously.”

“You and me both.”

They stayed quiet for a few minutes then Joe started tapping his fingers, jiggling his knee, making Hugh goddamn crazy. “I’m taking you to the park for a run before we do this next time. You’re like an overexcited damn puppy.”

Joe flicked a piece of torn coaster at Hugh’s head. “You heard from Lucy lately?”

There were three kids in the Colton family. Joe was the middle child, big surprise there, three years younger than Hugh and had just celebrated his twenty-eighth birthday a couple weeks ago. And then there was Lucy. She was the baby of the family, a mistake, his old man had always called her. Asshole. She was twenty-two, nine years younger than he was, and as much as he loved her, would do anything for her, she was a constant pain in his ass.

“She’s avoiding my calls.”

Joe grunted. “After the way you lost your shit with her, I’m not surprised.”

“She was screwing her psychology professor. What did you want me to do? Pat her on the head and increase her allowance? She nearly got her ass kicked out of school.”

Joe winced. “First, let’s not talk about what our baby sister was doing with that old fart. I’ll either puke or murder the wrinkly fucker. And second, give her a break, okay? She’s beating herself up enough.”

“You want her back in LA? Because I don’t. Not until we’re free of Al. I want her out of the line of fire.”

Lucy had no clue about his checkered past or how he’d supported the family when they were younger. She also didn’t know what he and Joe had been doing the last few years to cover their father’s debt. She just knew the old man had left them up shit creek without a paddle when he vanished…that her brothers had forked out a lot of cash when he had. Hugh intended to keep her in the dark, about all of it. Which meant making sure she stayed in school.

Joe’s gaze moved to the door and his posture went from relaxed to high alert.

“Who?” Hugh asked.

“Don.”

Hugh’s gaze immediately moved to Shay, who was now at the bar, filling an order. Relief washed through him. For some reason, he felt protective of her, didn’t want her anywhere near the asshole making his way over to their table.

Don was a special kind of snowflake. Young, stupid and a serious prick. The guy had a little power and had let it go to his overblown head. His boss, Al Ramirez, was rich, powerful and had connections to one of the biggest crime families in California. Al was also a major scumbag. How he’d gotten where he was, Hugh had no idea. He often wondered why someone hadn’t ended his miserable life already.

Don strode toward them, a smarmy grin on his face, and slipped into the seat beside Joe. “Boys.”

“Don’t have time for your shit. Hand it over and leave,” Joe growled.

Don’s back went straight, face getting all squinty. “Who do you think you’re talking to, boy?”

“A fucking moron. And if you call me boy one more fucking time…”

“Joe.” Hugh cut him off before he said something he couldn’t take back and made this shit even worse. The last thing they needed was to upset the idiot.

Joe slumped back in his seat and motioned for Hugh to take over. His brother might be a goddamn clown the majority of the time, but he also had a short fuse, and Don pushed all his buttons.

Hugh sat forward. “Let’s get this over with. You have a message?”

Don scowled at Joe one last time then turned to Hugh. “Al wants to do a deal. Knows you’re coming to the end of your father’s debt but he’s reluctant to end the partnership.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, sliding it across the table.

Hugh didn’t even look at it. “Not interested.”

“Aren’t you even going to take a peek at his very generous offer? That’s for each delivery.”

“No.” Hugh crossed his arms. “Tell Al, thanks, but no thanks. The minute the last car’s delivered, we part ways. Free and clear. That’s what we agreed.”

Don grinned. “He won’t be happy.”

Hugh shrugged. He wasn’t jumping for joy, either. He should have known this was coming. The asshole wanted to keep them under his thumb and on his payroll. Al Ramirez was ruthless. He’d sell his own mother if he could get a good price.

Don stood, leaving the piece of paper on the table in front of him. “Don’t make any quick decisions. You have a week to decide.”

“Then what?” Joe asked, the fury in his voice barely restrained.

The dick-wad smiled. “Then we go into negotiations.”

Shit
.

Joe watched him walk out then cursed repeatedly. “This is gonna to get ugly.”

“Yeah.” Al would stick to the deal they’d made, would never openly break it. If it got around that his word wasn’t for shit, he’d lose business. But the guy would also do whatever it took to get his way. Which meant they had to be smarter, quicker. If they weren’t, they were fucked, for good.

Joe’s fists clenched and unclenched. “We need to make sure Mom and Lucy stay the hell out of LA.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

Joe held his gaze, shook his head. “Leave it with me.”

Great…now his irresponsible, flaky brother didn’t even trust him to have a conversation with his own damn mother and not screw it up. “Fine.”

Joe stood, grabbed his jacket. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

A flash of red hair caught Hugh’s eye from across the bar, and he couldn’t make himself stand and follow. “I’m sticking around for a bit.”

His brother shook his head. “Jesus.” His gaze hardened. “Get her out of your damn system then, because after tonight, we need your head in the game, not on some piece of tail.”

Hugh’s fingers tightened around the bottle in his hand. “You finished?” His brother, Adam—the three of them—talked that way all the time about the women they’d been with, the women they wanted. Why his hackles rose when Joe called her
some piece of tail
,
he had no clue.

“For now.”

“First piece of good news I’ve heard all night.”

Joe flipped Hugh off then strode out of the bar. Great, now not only did they have Al breathing down their necks, but his brother was pissed at him, and Adam wanted to tear him a new asshole.

Yet, here he sat anyway…

His gaze moved back to where he’d last seen her. He was better off staying the hell away from her, especially now. He got the feeling his brother was way wrong when it came to her, though. One night might not be enough to get her out of his system, and one night is all he’d ever allow himself to have. He turned away, tipped his head back, finished his beer then stood. Time to go. No point sitting there torturing himself.

* * *

Shay tried to concentrate on walking in a straight line, which wasn’t easy while darting glances out the corner of her eye.
He
was back. He’d been back the last three nights.

But always on the other side of the bar. Besides that first night, he’d stayed away from her section. And with the way he affected her, she wasn’t sure if she was pleased about that or not.

He’d sit there, on his own, nursing one beer for several hours, then leave. But the whole time he was there, she’d feel his melted-chocolate stare following her around the room, making it hard to breathe, to concentrate. So far tonight, she’d already screwed up three of her drinks orders.

“Ow!” Her shoulder glanced one of the big, floor-to-ceiling support beams positioned around the bar, and she stumbled back a step. Good lord, if he kept showing up like this, she’d likely cause herself a serious injury. Someone gabbed her hips to steady her as she reached up to rub her aching shoulder.

“Whoa, there.” A young guy with a wide smile and scruffy blond hair stepped around her, one of his hands still on her hip. “Okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” She rolled her eyes, giving him an I’m-such-a-klutz smirk. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

His gaze dropped to her chest, to the Woody’s logo stretched across her boobs. “So you work here?”

Besides the uniform T-shirt, which all the staff members were wearing, and a rather obvious giveaway, she was carrying a drink tray, empty, thankfully, or she would have just made one hell of a mess all over the floor when she collided with the pole. “Sure do.”

“When does your shift finish? Let me buy you a drink?”

“Oh.” Crap, this kind of thing always made her feel so freaking awkward. Heat hit her cheeks. “Um…thanks…for the offer. But I’ll, I’ll have to pass.” She offered a smile she wasn’t feeling. All she could focus on right then was her mountain man, confused over his presence, wondering why he was coming to the bar every night—but hadn’t yet to talk to her. “You have a good night though.”

But he held on to her for a second longer. Preventing her from walking away. “You sure?”

She nodded, face getting hotter.

“If you change your mind, my table’s just over there.” He pointed to the opposite corner of the bar.

She pulled out of his hold, softening her rejection with another insincere smile, before turning away, then without conscious thought, darted another look over at
his
table. But the big man wasn’t sitting there. He was on his feet, a fierce expression on his face, eyes locked on the guy she’d just turned down. As he disappeared into the crowd, her mountain man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, then that fierce, hard stare slid to her. She felt rooted to the spot, pinned there by his dark gaze. Her breath spiraled out of her throat, pulse going nuts. He didn’t look away as he slowly sat back down like a giant watch dog—danger over—and lifted his beer, taking a drink.