Page 19 of Craving Francesca

“Talked to Jake,”I said, shaking my head. “He said it’s all quiet.”

“Good news,” my grandpa replied with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “So, the route is still in use.”

“Should be fine to use it,” I agreed. “Cops along that highway aren’t interested in dealin’ with our shit as long as we’re minding our own business.”

“Hey, Casper, Farrah’s in the clubhouse,” one of the prospects announced, peeking around the doorframe. “She asked me to tell you.”

“She’s early,” Grandpa muttered, pushing himself to his feet. “You gonna come say hello?”

I shook my head. “I come say hello every time one of the women show up, I’d never work again.”

“Fair enough.”

“Give her a kiss for me,” I said as we left the office and headed into the garage.

“Shit, I’m not even going to tell her you’re here,” he joked. “Or she’ll be out here fussin’ over you, and we’ll never leave.”

“Big plans?”

“She needs a new ride,” he replied.

“Fuck. Have fun at the dealership.”

“Shoot me,” Grandpa muttered under his breath.

I grinned as I headed over to the bay I was using for the day. Most of the boys had their own bays, but I didn’t have a steady enough schedule to justify claiming one. My specialty was wiring. Custom lights, audio and alarm systems, and super fucked rides that came in because no one could figure out what the hell had gone wrong. I’d always had an affinity for it, and it ended up working out well when I’d started at the garage as a prospect. I spent half of my time doing shit for the other side of the business,networkingas my grandpa liked to joke.

All I really did was stay in contact with the wide array of connections I’d started cultivating as a teenager and using all the information I acquired to piece together a wider picture of what was happening in Oregon and the surrounding states.

I could see patterns where other people couldn’t. Grandpa liked to say it came from him, but I thought it was probably my mother who had passed it on. I couldn’t remember a time when we’d ever spoken about it, but being raised by a genius had some advantages, and I’d spent the whole of my life learning how she saw and interpreted the world around her.

“Scott’s a douche,” Brody said, leaning against the car I was working on. He was talking to Rumi and Titus while they worked together on the car next to mine.

“He’s all right,” Titus replied with a laugh.

“I agree with Brodenheimer,” Rumi countered. “Guy’s a douche. Is it me, or is that guy fuckin’ everywhere?”

“Right?” Brody said, pointing at Rumi. “He’s so far up Frankie’s ass I don’t know how the guy can breathe. Hey, Gray.”

“Don’t you work?” I joked, rounding the car.

“Let me know if I’m in the way,” he said with a grimace.

“You’re fine.”

“What do you think?” Rumi asked, pausing to look at me. “Don’t you think Frankie’s little boyfriend is a douche?”

“Haven’t met him,” I replied, folding into the front seat of the Mustang I was working on.

“How?” Brody asked in surprise, leaning down to look at me. “He’s fuckingeverywhere.”

“Don’t know.”

I did know. I absolutely knew. I hadn’t seen Frankie since the day she’d moved almost two months before. I’d walked out of that house kicking myself for ever agreeing to help. Francesca was not for me. I’d said some bullshit about being too old for her, but that wasn’t it. If I started something with her and inevitably when shit went south, things would get awkward as fuck in a real hurry. It didn’t matter how drawn to her I was—I needed to keep my distance.

It was impossible to miss how she looked at me. I wasn’t about to step into that storm.

“This guy is always around,” Brody continued, still leaning in the window. “If Frank’s there, guaranteed Scott is there.”

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