Mom.
Seeing his old man had made the painful past rush back in a flood. His father was right in that his mother, Al’s ex-wife, had moved away. But she hadn’t taken Jace with her. Nope, he’d been in the Army by then, in boot camp.
He hesitated. She might ask questions. Where Jace was, what he was doing. Maybe even worry about him. He only needed to reassure her he was on a big assignment and could take care of himself.
Jace hit the button. Deep inside, he had a tiny hope she might express concern. Maybe she might care.
This time.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom. It’s me.”
“Stephen? Is everything all right at school?”
Jace’s throat tightened. “No, Mom, it’s your other son. You know, the firstborn son. Jason.”
“Jason. Oh, my. I thought you were Stephen and calling about your bank account again to borrow more money. That boy goes through his allowance for school like money grows on trees.” A throaty laugh.
“I don’t need money. I called to say hi,” he said. “I thought you’d like to know... I mean, just in case if you don’t hear from me... I’m working on this special assignment...”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. You’re home on leave now from the Army.”
Jace closed his eyes. He hadn’t been in the Army in years. He’d gone to college after, on his own dime and the government’s. His mother knew he held a government job now. But it hadn’t registered. “No, I’m working in Florida on something important...”
“Oh. Well, have fun. I have to go. The Maxwells are throwing a big party and I can’t decide if I should wear the blue dress with my black heels or the black dress.”
“Mom...”
She hung up. Gripping the phone so tight his palm hurt, Jace stared at the wall. Mom hadn’t changed. Didn’t give a damn. Didn’t ask how her firstborn son and heir was doing, nope. For all she knew, he could be dead in a ditch and her biggest worry would remain what to wear to his freaking funeral.
The only real mother he got to know was Kara’s mom, Claudia, who treated him like family. Welcomed him, fussed over him, made him feel accepted and cherished.
Strange how he loved his ex’s mother and father more than his own dysfunctional family. He rubbed the back of his neck. Kara had always asked about his family. Even gently badgered him because she’d wanted to meet them. But he’d been too ashamed.
Add that to yet another reason they’d broken up.
Then there was dear old Dad...
For a minute he got lost in the past, back when he was a teenager and he’d wanted to be so much like his dad. Wanted his respect at any cost.
The wake-up call was a hard life lesson. Fast and furious. Following his old man to that biker bar, itching at fifteen to be just like him. Maybe have a beer, trade rough talk with the guys about girls.
Even though he’d barely kissed a girl. Too shy.
Jace closed his eyes, remembering sneaking into the club, seeing his old man and another biker have at it, the fists flying, the sharp explosion of gunfire...the metallic smell of blood slicking the floor, a wide-eyed gaze staring at the ceiling.
Soon after, his father went to prison and his mother divorced him.
Two years later, he enlisted and never looked back.
But he never forgot that day. It fueled him, gave him purpose all the times in his life when he wanted to quit.
Never be like your old man. Family wasn’t anything to him anymore. He had no real family.
With a strangled curse, he threw his phone at the sofa. Screw family and screw the past.
He needed to get the information and get out from under this gang. Deliver justice by doing his job and keep the public safe from these rat bastards. That was more important than his terrible family.
Before someone ratted him out and he turned into a cold corpse lying out in the Everglades.
Chapter 4
After closing the shop, Kara followed Dylan’s bright red motorcycle at a snail’s pace to an industrial district. Warehouses crowded the streets, block after block. At the end of one road, he turned and entered a yard ringed by a chain-link fence with barbed wire atop it. The sign above the garage read Al’s Body Shop. Oily smells of grease and gasoline filled the air, a far cry from the light floral scent filtering through her store. Kara parked near a row of motorcycles as Dylan wheeled his bike into the garage. Inside, a mechanic with shoulder-length dark hair, wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and stained jeans, worked on a motorcycle. No one else was around.
She took a minute to admire the way the mechanic’s muscles bunched as he worked. The back of his shirt was damp with sweat. Bad boys and mechanics were never her style, but this man exuded a base sexuality in his movements even she couldn’t resist.
Now, if you were into repairing sedans instead of motorcycles... She almost laughed. Who was she kidding?
“Hey, Gator! Can you change out my tires?” Dylan asked, parking the bike near the mechanic.
“Give me a minute,” the man grumbled.
Her nose wrinkled as she sidestepped tools lying on the garage floor, her heels almost getting caught in a large socket wrench.
“Gator, can you change out the tires now? I need the bike for the big job tomorrow night...” His voice trailed off and he refused to look at Kara.
Alarm filled her. She’d heard from two other jewelers how someone had broken into their shops, taking only a few pieces, but the most expensive ones. The security cameras had been disabled with black spray paint, but one hadn’t been covered enough in the last burglary and showed someone speeding off on a racing motorcycle.
