Spin (Boosted Hearts Book 2) - Sherilee Gray
Darcey Connors tightened her long dark ponytail, tugged her baseball cap lower, then keeping to the shadows, edged along the brick wall.
She scanned the parking lot again. All clear. Then returned her focus to the reason she was skulking around in the dark.
A sigh escaped her lips.
Good freaking God, the man was a picture of male perfection, even while he was in the middle of committing grand theft auto. His big shoulders moved in a way that advertised the muscles under his shirt as he picked the lock, thick veins bulging along his tattooed forearms. His head was bent in concentration, that strong jaw covered in a thick beard, lips peeled back as he worked. She wanted to touch that beard. He’d grown it thicker recently, and all she could think about was how it would feel against her skin. Soft? Bristly? Would it tickle?
The lock popped and he slid straight into the driver’s seat, quickly disabling the car alarm. The engine turned over a second later. He didn’t hang around. Pulling the door shut, he drove away.
She checked her watch. Fifteen seconds.
He was good. Really good.
Joe Colton was one of the best.
He also hated her guts, and that was a damn shame, since she couldn’t even look at him without getting highly turned on or imagining all kinds of fool things—things that involved white picket fences and happily ever afters.
What made it ten times worse? She knew what it felt like to have his lips on hers. How he tasted. The dirty, hungry sounds he made when he kissed a girl.
The man kissed like she imagined he fucked. Deep, hard, and in total control of the woman on the receiving end.
She gave herself a mental slap upside the head. She had to stop thinking like that. He had a damn good reason for despising her.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked for messages. Nothing.
Hitting her step-father’s number, she put the phone to her ear. It rang for a while, then cut off. No goddamn way was he brushing her off again, not this time. She’d keep calling until the asshole answered.
“What the hell do you want?” he growled down the line on her fourth try.
“You know what I want.” Giving Len attitude right now was not the brightest of ideas—not when he held all the cards—but she was getting desperate. “When can I see my brother, Len?”
Len Ramirez had married her mom seven years ago, when her brother Noah had only been six months old. Now her mom was gone, Len had custody of her brother, and Darcey was tied to one of the biggest crime families in LA.
“When I fucking say you can.”
The knot in her gut got tighter. “It’s not right, keeping us apart like this.”
“You think I give a shit? And don’t go calling Al, either. He sure as fuck won’t help you.”
He hung up.
She squeezed her fingers around her phone, barely resisting the urge to fire it across the lot.
Al, the head of the Ramirez family and Len’s slimy, older brother, pulled the stings. And when he’d decided Darcey would be useful to him, right after her mom died, she’d had no choice but to comply.
If she wanted to see her baby brother, she did what she was told. End of story.
Now he owned her—like a pet that he didn’t really like much but kept around anyway just so he could put the boot in every now and then, for his own sadistic enjoyment.
This meant when he’d ordered her to make sure the Colton brothers didn’t meet their deadline—so he could add interest to their debt—she had to do whatever necessary to prevent them from delivering those cars on time.
But following Joe and his brother—watching them boost cars for Al—quickly became a bit of an obsession. Okay, Joe became her obsession.
So much so she’d taken to tailing him other times, times he was obviously not about to, or in the process of, boosting a car. This became a problem for Darcey when she followed him into a bar about a month ago and saw him in action, picking up some random bar bunny to take home. She’d hated it with every fiber of her being. Which was irrational. Completely ridiculous.
But the next week, when he’d gone to that same bar, she hadn’t been able to merely stand back and observe. No, instead of sticking to the shadows, she’d gone right on in. The idea of watching him go home with someone else