He probably hoped for overtime. Kara made a mental note to try to give him his monthly bonus early. “What about lunch? You’ve barely taken a break all morning.”
His face dropped. “Not hungry. Besides, you wanted these boxes all moved today.”
No lunch again. Dylan had that hungry look, though. Kara inwardly sighed.
Money was tight with nineteen-year-old Dylan. This was his only job. He should be in college. Her cousin had a sharp intelligence and quick learning ability, but Kara knew he saved every penny to help his mother.
Ever since she got cancer and moved from Nevada back here to Florida last year, Wanda Moore had become top priority in Dylan’s young life. Kara suspected Bruce, Dylan’s stepfather, beat him and her aunt. Dylan remained tight-lipped about it, but she’d seen him sport a few bruises.
Her father, Wanda’s brother, gave his sister money for medical expenses and food, but each time he did, Bruce took the money and used it to gamble. Kara worried about her aunt and cousin all the time. Until Wanda willingly left Bruce, her family could do little.
Not for the first time she wondered what would have happened had her brother, Dylan’s best friend, lived. Maybe Dylan wouldn’t have had emotional problems and his father wouldn’t have tossed his hands up in the air and divorced her aunt. Maybe ten years ago Dylan’s mom wouldn’t have married Bruce, who had a good job, but a violent temper. Maybe they wouldn’t have moved to Nevada, where Dylan’s stepfather’s gambling addiction deepened.
Too many maybes. All she could do was offer Dylan that raise and hope it helped.
“All that work on an empty stomach isn’t good. I need you energetic, kid.” She reached for her phone. “How about sub sandwiches delivered? You deserve a break for all your help. Roast beef on whole wheat with mayo, lettuce and provolone sound good?”
“Cheddar.” Dylan’s face relaxed. “Kara, you don’t have to...”
“But I will.” She ordered online and waved her phone. “Done.”
Shame flickered in his dark eyes. Kara went to him, put her hands on his thin shoulders. So thin.
“Dylan, you’re the hardest worker I have on staff. Treating you to lunch once in a while is a job perk. You will get that raise, I promise, after the diamond sells.”
How she wished she could do more, but she also knew his pride. Dylan wouldn’t take charity. She considered calling Lacey Adler, her friend who ran a women’s shelter, but she had to feel Dylan out on the prospect.
Dylan’s phone rang. He answered. “Hey, Mom!”
His expression went from sunny to dark in seconds. Dylan shoved a hand through his hair. “No, Mom, wait, I’ll come for you. Don’t move. Don’t worry, I’ll be there in minutes. Mom... Mom...just wait.”
He thumbed off the phone. “Kara, sorry, I have to take care of something.”
Worried, she nodded. “Need help?”
“No.” A line furrowed between his eyebrows. “I’ve got this.”
When the order arrived, she kept his sandwich in the fridge, waiting for him. Two hours later, Dylan returned, sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek.
She found an ice pack and silently handed it to him. Dylan winced and put it against his face.
“Is your mom okay?” she asked gently.
His voice trembled. “She told my stepdad the insurance wouldn’t cover chemo for breast chemo and found out he canceled the insurance four months ago. When she questioned him about it, he hit her. He didn’t break anything. She’ll be okay.”
“Dylan, I can pay for her chemo. Please, let me help you and Aunt Wanda, I know people—”
“No! She’s my responsibility. I have to get her out of there...”
He turned away, dropping the ice pack on the table. “Thanks.”
Kara brought his sandwich from the refrigerator. “I saved this for you. You have to keep up your strength.”
Sullen, not looking at her, he nodded his thanks as he devoured the sub. Dylan glanced at her. “Kara, there is something you can do. Can you follow me on my bike to Al’s Body Shop after work? I need a tire change.”
Kara winced. “I wish you wouldn’t ride that bike, Dylan. Cars are safer...”
“My bike isn’t any bike. It’s a racing bike.” His face lit up. Sandwich in hand, he gestured out back. “She’s gorgeous and fast and the best thing I have in my life now, Kara. Every time I race her, I can leave the world behind.”
Maybe the best way to reach him was through understanding the motorcycle he loved so much. “Tell me about racing. I don’t know much about any kind of car or bike racing.”
“Cars, that’s a different world. When I race my bike on a track, I can go up to two hundred miles an hour. The turns are the trickiest. I have a suit and I bend into the curve, so low I can scrape my knee, so I wear knee sliders.”
Kara’s stomach roiled at the image he’d painted. Was the biker who crashed into her car twelve years ago going that fast? He’d died on impact. The police investigation said the biker ran a red light as he was escaping a crime scene, but it didn’t matter. She had always blamed herself for taking out the car without permission.
She put a hand on his arm. “If your bike means that much to you, let’s go now. Then take the rest of the day off.”
He brightened. “Thanks!”
Kara understood all about leaving the world behind. She only hoped Dylan wouldn’t lose touch with reality so much that he would keep refusing help for a situation that was growing increasingly worse by the day.
On his lunch break from the mechanic shop, Jace went home. He managed to down a slice of cold, leftover pizza and used one of his burner phones to message his boss. Got word the big job moved up to tomorrow night. Planning to knock off a local shop with more than six figures in jewels. Don’t know more than that.
The phone rang. He answered with caution. “What?”
“Checking up to see how you’re doing.” Rafael Jones Rodriguez was his boss and a supervisory special agent in the FBI’s southern Florida office.
“They’re planning a huge job tomorrow night using the bikes.” He blew out a breath. “Rafe, they’re using teenagers on crotch rockets for their thefts. Biker named Snake, who did time for armed robbery, knows how to open safes and do quick smash-and-grabs. He and two other Devils ride on the back of the crotch rockets for a quick retreat before the cops arrive.”
