After tossing the orange, plastic bag to the floorboard, I climbed into the passenger seat of Jarrod’s truck. I was grateful that he’d come to pick me up, yet I didn’t exactly show it by how hard I slammed the door.

“Damn, Talon. I drive two hours to pick your ass up from prison, only to drive two more hours home, and this is the thanks I get?” Sarcasm rolled heavily off his tongue. “You’d think after being in the slammer for four years, you’d be happy to be out. I’ve never seen someone more miserable in my life.”

“I’ll be happier once I get to the garage.” I stared out the window, glad to see the correctional facility behind me. “Speaking of…do I at least still have a place to stay?”

“Yeah,” Jarrod said with a nod. “No one’s touched the apartment since you left. It’s still yours. Except, I did go in and clear out the fridge after you were arrested. I didn’t think you’d appreciate coming home to rotten food.”

“Thanks.” I was in no mood to chitchat and hoped he didn’t feel the need to fill the trip with meaningless conversation.

Time passed and miles flew by before he opened his mouth again. “Did ya hear? I’m gonna be a daddy.” He nudged me with his elbow without taking his eyes off the road. “How fucked up is that?”

“Am I supposed to say congrats?”

He gave me the side-eye and shook his head. “Seriously, dude, why are you so angry?”

“I just served time for murder. I’m a convicted felon. Need more reasons?”

“All of which happened years ago. So again, I’m not sure why you’re still so pissed. You’ve had plenty of time to cool off.”

He didn’t get it, and he more than likely never would—no one had all the facts. I wasn’t angry about my time behind bars—hell, I’d accepted the possibility of it when I took the kid’s life. Being convicted of a felony versus an aggravated misdemeanor didn’t sit well with me, yet he was right…I’d had years to let that go. At the same time, my hatred regarding Maggie Abrams had only grown worse, and now that I was out, nothing could calm the desire to find her and reclaim what was mine.

I didn’t appreciate being played for a fool.

“What were you doing in Mississippi, anyway?” He just wouldn’t let it go.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t. In case you forgot, I was in that courtroom supporting your ass every single day. I heard all the evidence that was presented to the jury. And I’d be willing to bet they would’ve come back with involuntary instead of voluntary manslaughter if you hadn’t run.”

My attorney had echoed that exact sentiment, and had even tried to get me to explain why I had left town that night. As much as I should’ve dragged Maggie into the middle of it, I didn’t for two reasons. If she had, in fact, taken money from a drug dealer, having her take part in my defense would’ve only made her a target for the scumbags who’d chased her out of town. That, and I hadn’t known where she was, so the chances of locating her were slim. Clearly, I hadn’t detested her as much then as I did now…because I no longer cared how hard it would be to find her—I wouldn’t give up until I did.

“What the fuck difference does it make? I served my time.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about the truth. Martin told us you were with some chick. Where was she when you got arrested?” He held his finger up to halt my response and asked, “And how in the hell did they find you all the way down there?”

It was obvious he’d waited a long time to get answers, though I wished he’d waited a little longer. “Yes, I was with someone, but she doesn’t have anything to do with it. She was gone by the time the cops showed up. Took my car. Ran off. Left me there, and the only thing that makes sense is she’s the one who tipped them off about where I was.”

I’d spent the last several years questioning that very thing—how she’d found out about what I had done, and why she would’ve reported me to the authorities. She was the one with a bag full of cash from an illegal source, and I hadn’t once debated turning her in. Granted, theft and murder weren’t exactly even on the scale.

Right before she had taken off, she looked me in my eyes and told me what a good person I was. And I was foolish enough to believe her—no, I was desperate. I’d assumed Maggie was innocent, young and naïve, and I’d been too wrapped up in having someone see the best in me that I didn’t look beyond that.

She’d made me weak.

Prison fixed that.

At first, I thought I’d been tracked down after my call to Martin. I’d figured they had tapped the lines like he’d said, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that wasn’t it. There had been no evidence or mention of that call during the trial. And by the time I’d been convicted, I could no longer ignore the voice in the back of my head that told me Maggie had something to do with the cops showing up.

“Do you know who she is?” Jarrod’s questions irritated me, though it wasn’t fair to take out my frustrations on him. After all, he was the only one from the shop who’d shown up every day in my defense, sat right behind me during the entire trial, and then spoke on my behalf during the sentencing phase. He deserved the truth, and because of that, I’d tell him as much as I could.

“All I know is her name, that she’s from Iowa, and she was headed to Florida to live with her grandfather. That’s about it.” I realized the odds of finding her were stacked against me, yet I had held out hope this long. Now that I had far more freedom to look her up, I trusted that I’d find her eventually.

“Good. Let it go, Talon.” He sounded a lot more like Tony than he had years ago, and I couldn’t help but think it was his role at the shop that had led to it. “There’s no point in going after her now. You did the crime, you served the time, and now you’re out. Free and clear. No chains, no parole. Don’t go and do anything stupid to get it all taken away again.”

I didn’t bother to respond, because I couldn’t make a promise I had no intention of keeping. He more than likely assumed I’d chase her down for answers, maybe intimidate her into telling me why she did it, but that wasn’t my plan. It had never been my plan. Honestly, all I cared about was locating my car. After that, I didn’t give a shit what happened to her.

Then again, there was a real chance I may never get it back. She could’ve very well sold it or stripped it for parts. The person I thought she was would’ve never done that—yet that person would have never called the cops and then taken off with my car, either. So, there was no telling what Maggie was capable of. I only hoped she’d grown up some over the last four years and maybe harbored a little guilt over betraying me.

* * *

I sat on the edge of the bed in the apartment over the shop with my head in my hands. The last time I had left this place, I had no idea it would take me this long to return. That was evident in the clothes left strewn across the bathroom floor and the dishes in the sink. And now I was back, surrounded by memories of that night.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the fight, the blood, the look in Jinx’s eyes. Nor could I forget that it was also the night I’d met Maggie. The night I’d run into her at the gas station. And before I knew it, my mind was caught in a war between the memory of her then, and the reminder of what she’d done to me only two days later.

I had to get up and do something to keep busy; otherwise, I’d get lost in the anger and rage of it all, and I couldn’t afford to let that happen. In the past, drugs, sex, and alcohol were where I’d turn when things became too much to handle. Then Tony showed up and offered me a safer outlet. Now, with him gone, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to resist those old urges.

Luckily, I didn’t have to go far. Just down the steps to the garage.

Half the guys at the shop were new, so I didn’t recognize them. They just stared at me as I strolled into the bays. The ones who had been here before took one look at me and then went back to work. I didn’t want the attention, or to be bombarded with questions, although this wasn’t much better. In fact, all it did was push me closer to that ledge.

I walked out to the parking lot, ready to find someone willing to take my mind off the shit I was drowning in. But Jarrod came after me, calling my name until I stopped. It was no secret where I was headed and why, and now that he’d basically encompassed Tony, his refusal to let me leave didn’t surprise me. Hell, it was that same determination that led to my incarceration in the first place.

“Just go away, Jarrod. Turn around and pretend like you didn’t see me.”

“I can’t do that, Talon. Tony wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. So don’t ask me to.”

“You’re not Tony!” I roared, practically spitting in his face.

It didn’t seem to faze him. “I don’t claim to be. Nor am I trying to be. But you’re also not the same kid who first came into this shop, either. So stop acting like it. You’re. Better. Than. This.” He punctuated each word with his finger in my chest. “Whatever you think you’ll find out there, you’re wrong. You can’t deny that. And in the end, it’ll only make you feel worse.”

“Nothing can make me feel worse than I already do.”

“Hey, I tried to get you to talk to me. You refused. It’ll never get better if you keep it bottled up inside. That’s what Tony always told us, right? The more demons we held onto, the harder it was to move on.”

“He gave this place to the wrong man.”

“No, he didn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing when he left it to you. Out of all of us, you were the one who could see the bigger picture.”

“Yeah? And what good did that do me? Huh?”

“Stop, Talon.” His voice hummed with calmness and his eyes were filled with compassion. I’d never seen him like this before, and it was enough to make me listen. “No one believes you came downstairs that night to kill Jinx. Not one of us. We’re all fully aware of why he was here, and that you were just trying to save him from himself. There was no way you could’ve predicted the way it would end. And no matter what the jury decided, no one believes you intentionally murdered him.”

“Doesn’t matter. Whether I meant to or not, I did. I tried to help him, and I fucking killed him. You can’t make that go away. You can’t make it right.”

“And you think a few pills or getting your dick sucked by some easy girl will?”

I shook my head, unable to argue against his point. “No, but at least it’ll be better than having everyone either stare at me or walk on eggshells when I come into the garage. That was the only place I could go when I needed a minute. And now…” I glanced over his shoulder at the shop and shook my head. “Now I can’t. Because even in there, I’m reminded of it all. It’s everywhere,” I added in a whispered voice.

“You just need a project. Come on; let’s see if we can find an old car for sale. Maybe if you had something to work on, it would help you through this transition.”

Incredulous laughter reverberated past my lips. “Transition? Is that what you think this is? You think I’ve been behind bars so long that I don’t remember how to live in the real world? That’s not even close, Jarrod.”

“No, dipshit. I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about them.” He jerked his head behind him to gesture toward the garage, and all the guys who now stood around watching us talk like we were on TV.

“What exactly do they need to get used to?”

“Well, for starters, there are a few kids in there who’ve come in knowing that their boss was in prison for murder—more importantly, for murdering one of his mechanics. So I’m sure you can imagine the stories they’ve come up with. And seeing you now, I think it’s a safe bet that they’re a little on edge, wondering if they’ll be the next employee who winds up on your shit list.”

I shouldn’t have laughed, but I did. I couldn’t help it. Killing someone wasn’t funny, especially when that person had been a friend, so that wasn’t what I found humorous. It was the idea that these kids more than likely assumed I would come after them if they didn’t change someone’s oil to my liking.

“And the guys who’ve worked with you before,” he continued, “are only trying to give you space. Trust me…after Tony died and you left, we lost a lot of help. Martin’s probably the only one who left for a legitimate reason—he moved away to be closer to his mom. Randy couldn’t stay clean, Tommy didn’t see the point in coming around anymore, and Jesse…well, Jesse disagreed with our decision to keep the shop open. He hated the idea of you making money while sitting behind bars for murdering his best friend, so he took off. Haven’t seen him since.”

That didn’t surprise me. Jesse had only come to work for Tony because Jinx had. They’d both been caught up with the wrong crowd, and Tony had done everything he could to keep them out of that life—just like he had for all of us. The only thing Tony had asked for in return was that we stayed clean—no drugs—and that we showed up for work. If we did those things, he’d take care of us.

And he did.

Except, after his death, it was like half the guys had no more accountability. They didn’t see me as someone they had to answer to—I was a troubled kid, same as them. So the second they realized they could return to the life they had, making more money peddling drugs than they did fixing cars, they were out. All I did was try to rein them back in.

“So what do ya say?” He raised his brows in question. “Wanna go see what we can find to replace your four-four-two?”

I didn’t have any desire to replace my car. I only wanted to find it. And his suggestion of finding a new one gave me an idea. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

* * *

After weeks of searching for cars matching the description of mine that had been sold in the last five years all over the United States, I finally gave up. That didn’t mean she hadn’t sold it, just that she hadn’t listed it online. Which didn’t surprise me—she’d stolen it and didn’t have the title or a way to get it. I’d done everything I could think of to find her on social media, yet even that was a dead end. She couldn’t have vanished, so I wouldn’t quit looking until I found her.

In the meantime, I decided to bury myself in work at the shop and try to prove to the new guys that I wasn’t a monster. Unfortunately, that meant I had to hear stories of their conquests—which were either overindulged or the girls in this town had gotten easier. They were already easy, so I wasn’t aware that was even possible. Most of their claims were pretty farfetched, so I only listened to bits and pieces, just enough to comment and make it appear that I cared who they stuck their dick into.

That all changed late on a Wednesday morning, about three months after I was released from prison, when Bennett got started on the tale of his evening. “So, there I was, driving home last night after I left here, and this cute little thing was stranded on the side of the road in a Rosemary’s Diner uniform. Of course, I stopped to help her out. She thanked me by sucking me off right there in her car. Hottest fucking thing of my life.”

“Did you at least get her name first?” one of the other guys asked.

“Sure did. Maggie.”

Bennett and Wes continued to talk, but I couldn’t hear any of it past the ringing in my ears. I came around the car I was working on and stood in front of him. And based on the way he gawked at me, I could tell whatever angered expression I wore must’ve scared him.

“Back up…you said her name was Maggie?” I wasn’t foolish enough to believe only one person in the world had that name, but there was no way I’d jump to the assumption it wasn’t her before I could find out for sure.

“Uh, yeah. Why? She a friend of yours?”

“What does she look like?”

“Brown hair, blue eyes. Normal.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, man. She was a girl, and she was a pro with her mouth.”

I was conflicted. Part of me burned with the desire to knock his front teeth out for speaking about her like that. The other part of me remembered that she wasn’t the same person I’d thought she was, and considering how willing she had been four years ago, there was a chance I’d pegged her wrong from the very beginning. There was also the chance he had met some other Maggie with blue eyes and a wicked mouth.

“She works at Rosemary’s, just off the highway in Billings. I drove past it on my way here about an hour ago and her car was in the parking lot. If you want to go give her a test drive…be my guest.”

“What kind of car does she drive?”

“Older model Honda. White. Donut on the rear driver’s side. Why?”

“Just wanna make sure I got the right girl.”

“Wait,” he called out in a panic. “What are you gonna do to her?”

I smiled and said, “Get my dick wet, what do you think?”

Jarrod was in my office with his girl, Jess. I’d met her several times, and I doubted I’d ever get used to seeing her here. She was normal—in this town, around this group of guys, “normal” was extraordinary. I still couldn’t figure out what she was doing with someone like us, or why she’d have his baby. That was between them. And late at night when I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, it made me think of the best two days of my life—while I prayed I wouldn’t remember them when I woke up.

I walked in, interrupting their light conversation, and asked Jarrod if he wouldn’t mind finishing the brakes on the car in my bay. I could’ve finished them myself, but I wasn’t about to chance missing her if it had, in fact, been my Maggie.

“Yeah. Everything okay?”

“I’m sure it’ll all be great. I just have to check on something real fast.”

He nodded, and then I headed out to where we parked our cars. Considering I hadn’t found anything else to replace my Olds—nothing could replace it—Jarrod allowed me to use his truck until I got something of my own. I figured he would’ve asked for it back by now, but he never did.

I climbed behind the steering wheel and drove off toward the highway.

I had no idea where this diner was, yet it couldn’t have been too difficult to find it. All the towns around here were small and rural, not many roads to get lost on. I’d been to Billings a few times in the past—not many, since it was where the “good” people lived, and guys like me belonged in Fleetwood—so I shouldn’t have had any issues finding the place.

Sure enough, as soon as I made it about a mile down Blundsford Road, just off the highway, Rosemary’s Diner sat on the right. I pulled in and spotted the older model, white Honda Accord. And just as Ben had described, a spare tire adorned the driver’s side.

Still, that didn’t mean shit. Just because he’d described a car in the parking lot didn’t mean it belonged to Maggie. And even though I could’ve gone inside to find out for myself, I had a better idea. I took the lockout tool from the truck and let myself into the car just long enough to find something with a name on it. In the glove box, I found an insurance card, and the name on the front hit me harder than a sledgehammer.

Maggie Abrams.

My hands shook as I closed the compartment and stuffed the card into my pocket. Once I was back in the truck, I had to give myself a moment to calm down, needing to catch my breath before I made the next move—whatever that would be. It didn’t matter that I had suspected it was her; seeing the proof set me off. The chance that it wasn’t the same person I’d been looking for had been enough to keep me from coming up with an actual plan. And now that I was here, and it was, in fact, her…I didn’t have a clue what to do.

Using my phone, I pulled up the number to the diner, and then pressed the call button.