Two Months later

I wipe my hands off on my jeans, not really thinking about the grease stains that’ll leave. I’m too busy trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to get this guy’s custom dragon shifter mounted without breaking anything.

I back away from the bike and take a deep breath and slowly let it out. Working with my hands like this, building something from nothing, this is the sort of thing I love the most. It’s quiet in my workshop, with only the dull sound of the radio tuned to some random rock station droning on in the background. I’m not even listening, it’s just noise for me. I’m too busy trying to work out this problem while keeping the whole project clear in my mind.

I’m not getting anywhere, though, so I decide to take a break. I walk over to the radio and, just as I’m about to switch it off, a news segment comes on that catches my attention.

“Mayor Buddy Weaver was spotted last night in the Spotted Owl, throwing dollar bills at the girls. When asked to do an interview, the mayor said, ‘You can go interview my nuts.’ More at eleven.”

I shake my head and switch it off. I don’t remember when my father’s fucking antics became actual news, but apparently now people give a shit about that windbag. He’s been boozing and going to see strippers on the taxpayer’s dime for years, and now suddenly people are talking about it like they give a fuck.

Frankly, I know it’ll just blow over, like everything else has blown over for my father.

People think it’s easy being the son of the fucking beloved long-time mayor, but that fucker’s never done shit for me. He’d always been too busy fucking around on my mom and taking bribes to ever bother having a conversation with his son, and you know what? Good fucking riddance. I wouldn’t have learned a thing from that bastard anyway. When my mother died from cancer three years ago, my only family died with her. I’m only related to that bastard in name, and that’s how I like to keep it.

Of course, sometimes he extends an olive branch, like two months ago when he invited me to that party. I’m glad I decided I could suck it up and drink some free booze for a few hours, because that’s how I met Alexa.

I’ve been thinking about her ever since that night, but she didn’t seem to want to see me again, and I haven’t tried to press. Plus, it would be fucking difficult dating someone that works for my father, seeing as how I hate that cocksucker.

Still, the way she said that she can’t get pregnant, practically begging me to come inside her… fuck, that was too much. She was sexy, cute, funny, easy to talk to, everything I look for in a woman. But she never called, and I can tell when a woman doesn’t want to see me again.

That’s fine, that wasn’t my first one-night stand. Still, that’s the first time a one-night stand has really stuck with me.

I walk away from the silent radio and over to a refrigerator I keep in the corner. I grab a beer from it and crack it open just as I hear the bell that means someone just stepped into the front of my shop.

“We’re closed!” I yell out. “Sorry, come back tomorrow.” I don’t feel like dealing with another rich asshole that thinks he wants me to build him a bike right now.

But I hear footsteps coming back toward here, and I’m about to give him my angriest “fuck off,” when Marko steps around the corner.

He grins at me and I let out a breath. “I thought you were a customer,” I say.

“You get those?”

I grin at him. “Fuck off.”

He laughs and walks back into my shop. We hug real quick and I get him a beer. He thanks me for it, admiring my current project.

“Who ordered this up?” he asks.

“I think he’s one of yours, actually,” I say. “Big Malone?”

Marko gives me a look and laughs. “Big Malone ordered this? Fucking shit. I don’t think that fat asshole can even ride.”

“Well, he paid for it already, so it’s his when I’m done.”

“Jesus. Who ever thought a mobster would be riding this fucking thing?”

We stand side by side, admiring the dragon designs. Marko’s about my height, broad shoulders, dark hair slicked back, dark eyes, dark clothes. He’s a caption in the Costa crime family, which is the most powerful mafia in the whole fucking state, and most of the east coast.

The mayor’s son and the mobster, good friends since we were kids. That’s the kind of place Providence is. The criminals are all friends with the cops, and we all get along, until we fucking don’t.

“What can I do for you, Marko?” I ask him.

He smiles a little thinly at me. “Right down to business?”

“Been a long fucking day, and you don’t show up randomly with good news.” I lean back against a stool, sipping my beer. “What’d my fuckhead father do?”

Marko laughs again, but there’s no real joy there. “You notice anything about him lately?”

I hesitate. I can’t pretend like I haven’t. Buddy’s always been a boozer and a prick, but he’s being going out of his way to get in trouble these past few months. That radio story is just one in a long string of stories about Buddy lately, and if I gave a fuck about him, I might think he’s in real fucking trouble.

“No,” I say instead, and I know Marko can see right through that.

He just nods. “Look, I’m here as a friend, okay?”

“As opposed to what?”

He gives me a look and doesn’t answer. “Your father’s been gambling a lot.”

“Is that news?”

“More than usual,” he goes on. “Plus, there were some deals that fell through a few months ago, and some fights he started, and a few other things—”

I hold my hand up to stop him. “What does he owe?”

“Elias, it’s a lot, man.”

“How much?” I ask again.

“Over eight hundred thousand.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s mostly from those deals, and the bribes he took that never panned out,” Marko says. “But it’s bad, man, really bad.”

“Shit.” That sort of money is the amount that the mob will actually kill you over. Not even the mayor is immune from retribution when it comes to that amount of cash, not in a town that’s owned by the mafia.

“I’m just here to warn you,” Marko continues. “You gotta lay low, okay?”

“I don’t have anything to do with Buddy,” I say.

“I know that, a lot of people know that, but not everyone cares.” He pauses and gives me a meaningful look. “Raymond doesn’t. Blood is blood.”

I cringe. Raymond Costa, the old man, is the head of the Costa crime family. He’s been in this city forever, running it behind the scenes, and he gets a piece of everything. I’ve never met him personally, but I’ve seen him before, sitting in his lawn chair outside his many properties, surveying everything and smoking his cigars. He watches like he owns the town, and that’s because he fucking does.

“Shit,” I say, and take a long pull of beer.

“Yeah,” Marko says in answer, and we drink in silence for a minute.

I don’t know what the fuck to say. My father’s been in some shit in the past, but never this amount of money, and I’ve never heard Raymond’s name thrown around like that before. Marko’s a captain, but he doesn’t have that much power, not enough to save my father if something goes down.

Not like I want him saved, to be honest. I just don’t want the collateral damage to fall down on my head. I have a good life here, a life that I built without him.

“Thanks for the beer,” Marko says, putting the bottle down on the bench. “I should get going.”

“Yeah, sure.” I walk with him toward the front of the shop. “How’s Dana doing? And Will?”

“Good,” he says. “Will asked about you the other day, wants you to come over and let him ride your bike.”

I laugh. Will is Marko’s little boy. “I can do that,” I say.

“Good. I’ll hold you to it.” We stop out front and Marko pulls me into a hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He nods and turns to go. As he opens the door, he pauses a second before turning back to me, a big smile on his face.

Standing on the doorstep is Alexa.

I stare at her, shocked. She looks just as beautiful as I remember, with long, dirty-blonde hair, ice blue eyes, smooth skin, and long legs. She smiles a little awkwardly, and Marko gives me a look.

“See you later,” I say to Marko loudly.

He gets the hint and fucks off. I watch him go as Alexa steps into the front of my shop.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” I say to her.

“Didn’t think you would either,” she says. I can tell something’s wrong right away, though. “But I had to track you down.”

“You could’ve called.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” She cringes, and I feel bad. I shouldn’t be a dick to her. Honestly, I’m really happy she’s here, oddly enough. Despite the fact that I just found out that my father may be killed by the mob, and I may be dragged into it.

“No, I mean, it’s okay. Come on in. You want a drink?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurts it out all at once, and I feel like my whole world is about to crumble.