Emily

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They said a heat wave was starting, early in the year for Michigan. It was still ten days to the Fourth of July. It was going to be a long, hot summer.

Luke wasn’t home at eight in the morning, even though I pounded on his back door. I remembered he used to go running in high school—he used to tell me it was the only thing that could get him out of bed before ten o’clock in the morning. Since he still had the awesome physique he’d had then, I guessed that was where he was and sat on his back porch to wait.

I was right. He showed up fifteen minutes later, wearing athletic shorts and a navy blue T-shirt that was nearly black with sweat. It was already almost eighty degrees, windless and still, and Luke’s hair was soaked, sweat glistening on his arms and his collarbones.

He paused in surprise when he saw me. “Em,” he said.

I looked at him for a long second. I couldn’t help it. My head was full and my stomach hurt, but I would never get tired of looking at Luke Riggs. When I was ninety, I’d still like looking at him. It was time to accept that was just the way I was wired.

He stepped up onto the back porch, approaching where I sat on the old picnic table. He grabbed a towel from the spot on the porch, where he’d obviously left it, and scrubbed his face as I took him in. Muscled legs, lean hips, that stomach I’d admired and licked just days ago. Those sexy arms and capable hands, the tat I knew so well. Part of me was still amazed I’d actually slept with him—it seemed like a fantasy I’d cooked up in the middle of the night to wish it were true.

So I made myself say the words. “Today is the day.”

He ran the towel over his neck. “Today is what day?”

“The day you get busted,” I said. “The Westlake PD are going to raid Riggs Auto. They have warrants and everything.” He went still, watching me with his dark eyes, so I dropped my gaze to my knees. “I overheard Mom talking on the phone last night. They’re shutting you down, Luke. Your whole stolen car operation.”

He heard the harshness in my voice on those last few words, because he said, “My stolen car operation?”

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” I said, putting my hands on my knees and staring at them. “Mom says you’re running it while your dad is in prison. You and your brothers. She says you’re running at least five stolen cars a week through Riggs Auto. That it’s part of a bigger organized crime circle.” I traced the rings on my left hand with the fingers of my right. “One of your… employees got caught trying to fence a stolen watch. The watch was traced back to a car that was lifted last week. So they know the car has been through your operation. Your guy is arrested. It’s a done deal.”

He was quiet, so I gathered my courage and lifted my gaze to him. He was just standing there looking at me, the towel still in his hand. I couldn’t read everything in his eyes—puzzlement, anger, maybe a flash of hurt. But that didn’t make sense. What did he have to hurt about?

“Were you going to tell me?” I asked him, letting the words float out into the still, hot air. “Were you ever going to tell me what was going on?”

I’d suspected. Lauren had told me what Mom was working on, and I knew Luke’s dad was not a good guy. But that was Mike. That wasn’t Luke—at least in my mind. Luke was different.

I’d asked, and he’d told me next to nothing.

But this, an arrest, a big police bust… This made it real. It was Luke doing these things. Not just his father.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother has been investigating Riggs Auto for months. Were you ever going to tell me about that?”

“I’m telling you right now,” I said.

“Yeah?” He slung the towel over his shoulder, then was still again. “Why, Emily? Why exactly are you telling me?”

That was a good question. I’d spent most of last night wide awake, pondering it. I should have just let the cops descend without warning, let Luke and the others go down like they were supposed to. What was happening was illegal—it was black and white. I should have just stood by and let the law do its work.

Instead, I was here.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I guess I wanted to give you the chance to leave town.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “Leave town?”

I shrugged. How was I supposed to know how criminals handled things? “I guess. You can leave town right now and avoid the whole thing.” Of course he’d want to do that. Who would willingly walk into a police bust?

“Really,” Luke said, but it wasn’t a question. “You think I’d do that. Get in my car and just drive off.”

I frowned at him. I didn’t repeat that he’d done exactly that eight years ago. “You’re going to jail if you don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said.

I was starting to get angry. He was so fucking blah about the whole thing, like it didn’t matter. I’d been up all night in agony, and to him it was a detail. “So that’s it?” I said, my temper flaring in my voice. “You don’t care about going to jail just like your dad? Were a few stolen cars worth it?”

“You think I’m willing to throw everything away for a bit of money?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know,” I snapped, “because you don’t tell me anything. All we do is screw.”

He took a step forward, and I could see that I’d pissed him off. “Then I’ll tell you. Here’s what happened. Dad called me up after eight years and said I had to take over Riggs Auto because he was going to jail. So I came back. It turns out Dad wasn’t only a shitty father, he was a career criminal, and he assumed I’d be happy to take over. All the guys who work at Riggs are on board. There’s already money being dropped in my lap that I didn’t ask for. I’ve been dealing with the house, the business, my brothers, and you, and I’ve had to make some serious decisions. And I’ve had two weeks.”

I stared at him, still angry. “Yeah, Luke. That’s a lot to deal with. And you couldn’t talk to me about any of it?”

“Honestly, Em?” He scowled at me. “You live with your mother. I was supposed to put you in that position?”

I knew what he meant. If I knew what was happening at Riggs Auto, it put me in the position of knowing something and not telling Mom about it. Or telling her and betraying Luke. Really, it put me in the position of having to choose between Mom and Luke.

I was in that position anyway. And I’d chosen Luke. By being here right now, giving him a warning, I was choosing him. And yet it still felt like an insult, even to me.

“Fine,” I said to him. “You didn’t choose any of this. It sucks. Now you can leave town and get away from all of it.”

“You mean run,” Luke said, and disdain dripped from his voice.

“Yes, I mean run!” I stood up, exasperated. “Or not. You know, I don’t care. Since I’m probably an accessory by being here, I have to go.”

I brushed past him, headed for the porch stairs. He didn’t touch me, but I passed close enough to hear his low voice. “You’re doing an awful lot for me when all we do is screw.”

I paused and looked at him. I wanted to touch him so bad it was like an ache. Just put my palms on his chest, feel the heat of him, his heart beating, the rise and fall of his breath. Touching him was so familiar by now, it was almost like touching myself. Running my hands over his skin was like running them over my own. Touching Luke was a simple thing for me, body to body. We had entire conversations with just our hands and the feel of his breath on my skin. We fit. We always had.

But when I looked at him, I had no idea what he would do next. Whether or not he would get in his Charger and drive away again, keep driving and never look back. I honestly didn’t know.

Did I?

I had to keep some distance here. I had to stay hard. Because this man could break me, and one way or the other, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again. And I couldn’t let that crack me open. I had to stay strong, together. I had to stay me.

“Good luck, Luke,” I said, and walked away through the back route to my car. For the last time.