Page 73 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
Sutton opened the note, his brows furrowing. “Does this mean anything to you?”
Trixie leaned forward to see writing she easily recognized and read out loud:
Thanks for the ride, baby girl.
Chapter
Thirteen
Either Cayden was getting old or the thrill of boosting a high-end vehicle just didn’t have the same effect on him anymore. Personally, Cayden was leaning towards the latter.
He’d been out of the game for three years, but the basics had not changed. He was in a hot car and needed to make it disappear. It was like a magic act. Make the cops look left while he went right.
Cayden remembered a time when this was all he lived for. The chase, the crime, the escape… This had been his life, his thrill. Now, the further he drove from Romero’s, the deader inside he felt. The light and happiness Trixie cleansed his soul with were fading. Darkness was encroaching once more.
“Where are we going?”
Lee sat in the passenger seat. The only reaction Cayden had gotten out of the man was a raised eyebrow when he’d picked him up in the Spyder. Cayden had hit Romero’s because he knew the security front and back. He’d designed it after all. He hadn’t bothered with his access codes or even Trixie’s. He’d bypassed the use of them all together. L and S were about to learn the flaw in their security system that Cayden had suspected was there for months.
Cayden had just never thought he’d exploit it like this.
“Shop I know. We’ll drop off the Spyder before heading over to Carver’s.”
“Why aren’t we heading to Carver’s now? We want to show him the car, right?”
Cayden took his eyes off the road to look at Trixie’s brother. “We’d never make it in this ride. It’s too hot. Gotta watch out for these pesky little things called cops. Besides, the news that Romero’s was hit will get back to Carver before we get there. He’ll know it was me.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Lee demanded. “What if someone else takes credit for jacking this thing?”
“First, she’s a lady so treat her with respect.” Cayden petted the dashboard. “Second, don’t ever call a car a ‘thing’ or no one will ever believe we are friends. Third, Romero’s was my turf. Whether I was running a con or not, no one would have dared gone near it or risked pissing me off. Bucky made sure of that when he took the news back that I was there.” Cayden added offhandedly, “Probably the only good thing that came out of that visit you orchestrated.”
“That makes no sense,” Lee argued. Cayden raised an eyebrow. The man had almost showed some emotion with that one. “If you said you were out, why would they respect your turf? Maybe someone is going to claim they took the car to embarrass you or to get you fired.”
Cayden snorted. “You’re such a cop. Stop,” he ordered when Lee opened his mouth again. “We’re here. I do the talking. One word out of you and I’ll tell Trixie you tried to get me killed.”
The man’s mouth snapped shut. He scowled. Cayden wasn’t sure he liked the man’s scowl. There was too much promise of malice behind it. Like he wasn’t bluffing. “That’s a low blow.”
“Not a word,” Cayden repeated as he pulled down an alleyway. At the end, he parked in front of a tall wooden fence. “Get out.”
They were surrounded by tall warehouse buildings on both sides of the Spyder. Cayden could smell the saltwater of the gulf though they were still several blocks away from open water. The buildings blocked most of the morning sunlight, casting them into shadows.
Cayden and Lee were only alone in the alleyway for a minute before doors were opened around them. He caught Lee stiffening as two men exited the buildings with guns. The garage door remained closed, the Spyder still left out in the open.
Cayden heard a gun cock behind him and he forced himself to put a smile on his face. “Tex.”
The owner of this shop was a short, lean man. He wore his brunette hair long around his shoulders and had adopted a cowboy look, though Cayden was pretty sure the man had never stepped foot on a ranch in his life. His boots granted him a few extra inches of height as did the black Stetson.
The shotgun was held by Tex’s enforcer, Knuckles, a bulky man of few words.
Tex pushed the toothpick sticking out of his mouth from the left corner to the right. “Boost. Been a while.”
“Has it?” Cayden leaned back against the driver’s door of the Spyder. His body portrayed casual, but his heart was hammering like a percussion solo in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was back at Tex’s garage. How had he let himself get roped back into this life?
“You armed?”
“You know I don’t do guns.” Still, for good faith, Cayden lifted his shirt to show he wasn’t carrying.
“Where’s your armor?” Tex made a gesture to Cayden’s face. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
