I was alone in the garage, save for a couple of unfinished cars and a sweet 1965 cherry-red Mustang that was waiting for the owner to pick it up tomorrow. I was entertaining the fantasy of laying Raye out on the hood of that sleek car and having my way with her – not that it was going to happen, but a guy could dream.

I’d already pictured her straddling me in the beat-up old chair in the tiny little closet that served as my office and just about everywhere else that one might be able to have sex in my small garage – and the apartment. There were a lot more options than I’d realized.

The sound of a knock at the back door had anticipation lighting inside me, and I didn’t think about it until it was too late that it wasn’t likely to be Raye. She’d already told me she wouldn’t be over until close to six. It wasn’t even five-thirty now.

Still, I went over to check the window.

Irritation kicked up inside me the second I laid eyes on the man on the other side of the door, and I thought about sending him away. Tank Jones was the last man I wanted in here when Raye was due to arrive, but he always paid well, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t use the money.

Despite the foreboding I felt, I unlocked the door.

He gestured to the car parked out behind him.

“I had an accident.” A sly grin curled his lips, and he added, “Insurance isn’t going to help me out. Was kind of hoping you would.”

That probably meant there was damage to the car he wanted fixed on the sly.

It could also mean that whatever damage had probably happened had been done while doing something illegal. I didn’t know and wasn’t going to ask. I figured it was safer that way.

“Let’s take a look at it.” I joined him outside, and we spent a few minutes out in the cold while I circled the car, taking in what I could under the piss-yellow security light behind the garage. My truck took up one of the two parking spaces, and I gestured to the other, telling him to pull into the spot. “I’ll have to work on it after hours. Don’t figure you want my crew knowing about the…damage.”

“Appreciate that, Kane.” The smile didn’t soften his scarred face at all, neither did the look he cast around the alley. “I was thinking…hey, you got a beer? Got a question I want to toss at you.”

I should have told him no.

But old habits died hard. Tank and I used to run together, back in the old gang. It had fallen apart in the years since I’d been in prison and whether Tank was affiliated with a new one now, I didn’t know, nor did I want to. He still came around the garage, like a few others did and I didn’t turn them away. They’d meant a lot to me at one point, and they still brought money with them. I didn’t turn away money.

But sometimes, maybe saying no was the wiser course.

I never was a quick learner, though.

I brought him a beer out from my apartment, reluctant to invite him back into my personal living space. This was business, and despite the fact that I might still take jobs from some of the old crew, there were certain lines I’d never cross with them again.

Letting them cross the lines that bled over into my personal life was one thing that wouldn’t happen.

“So…I got this thing lined up,” Tank said, twisting the top off his bottle of beer.

I lifted mine to my lips, an uneasy feeling already curling through my gut. Yeah, I should have bypassed the chance to chat over a couple of beers.

He paused, clearly waiting for me to ask what kind of thing, but I stayed quiet. I wasn’t going to take any lines he offered or anything.

When I didn’t take the bait, Tank shrugged. “It’s not a big deal or anything, but there could be some sweet money in it.”

Yep.

This was going to be trouble, a shitload of it. Lowering my gaze, I focused on the bottle of beer and started thinking of the various ways to tell him to get the hell out of my place.

I had come up with about five by the time he explained what he wanted – he needed a place to keep a delivery he was going to be receiving in a few days. I wouldn’t be involved in any way, blah, blah, blah, but of course, he’d be happy to pay me for my trouble, blah, blah, blah.

He finished and lifted his beer to his lips, taking a long pull from it as he waited for my answer.

I opened my mouth, ready to issue a polite thank you, but no, fuck off when a knock at the back door cut me off. The door swung open a second later, and I mentally started to swear a blue streak.

Tank reacted in pretty much the same way, only he didn’t keep anything on a mental level.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, coming off the counter he’d been leaning against, aggression leaking from him as if it seeped from his pores.

I spun around, moving across the garage, already knowing who it was. I shielded Raye with my body, shooting a look at Tank. “It doesn’t matter who she is. She’s of no concern to you, Tank.”

“I thought you didn’t have anybody coming around after hours, Kane,” Tank bit off. “Who the fuck is the skirt?”

Raye’s dark blue gaze flitted to mine, nerves dancing there. She didn’t look at Tank, and whether it was experience or just instinct, I had to appreciate that. “Hey,” she said in a low voice. “Is this a bad time?”

“No. You’re fine.” Angling my chin toward the door that opened into my apartment, I said, “Why don’t you wait in there?”

She turned on her heel, and as she beat a fast retreat, I turned back to find Tank edging closer, his eyes dark and angry, his mouth in a tight set line.

“What the fuck, Kane? You always said it was safe to come by after the shop’s closed and now you got women running in and out of here? You trying to fuck me over?” he demanded.

His eyes shot toward the door where Raye had disappeared and every protective instinct I had welled up inside me.

“I don’t know where the fuck you got the idea that I’d never had anybody over at my place, ever, just in case one of you guys decided to show up,” I said, sarcasm thick in my words. “If I decide I want to have a female friend over, I think that’s my fucking concern and not yours. You want privacy, pick up the phone and make a fucking appointment.”

Tank opened his mouth, fury dancing in his eyes.

I took a step toward him.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Tank asked, flinging a hand out. “I don’t need some chick seeing me here. I come here because it’s supposed to be a clean place, you’re supposed to be a safe zone where I can get my ride fixed, and nobody will connect me to you. And you fuck me over having a bitch here.”

“Call her a bitch again,” I invited. “See where it gets you.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. After a few more seconds, he lifted a hand, pointing at me. “If this comes back to bite me on the ass, I’ll be back to kick yours, Kane.”

“Don’t you threaten me, Tank.” Clenching a hand into a fist, I stared him down.

“Just make sure your bitch doesn’t cause any problems for me.”

Closing the distance between us, I stared down at him over the few inches that separated us. “That’s your last chance. Say it again and pick up your teeth on the way out.”

He sneered at me, and on the way out the door, he flipped me off.

“Hey!”

He glanced back.

I threw his keys at him. “Take your ride elsewhere.”

He gaped at me.

I gave him a sardonic smile and pointed at the sign hanging near the entrance.

We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.

“I’m invoking my right, asshole.”

* * *

“Hey.”

Raye was sitting on my couch, hands clasped together between her knees. She jumped at the sound of my voice, and I winced. “It’s just me,” I said.

“I know. Sorry. Jumpy. I interrupted something,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Not really.” I moved across the room and sat down on the worn-out, old oak coffee table. “He’s just somebody I used to know. He didn’t have to be an asshole to you. I’m sorry.”

I was half-prepared for her to bolt off the table and take off into the night, and the idea bothered me more than I liked.

Caring about people outside of my family was something I tried hard not to do, and here I was, worrying about what was going to happen in the next few minutes. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about Raye.

I did care.

I cared too much.

And I wasn’t too happy about it either.

Caring about somebody who was probably going to disappear from my life in a few short weeks – or less – was a complication I didn’t need.

It was even worse that it was somebody like Raye…somebody I didn’t deserve to have in my life.