3. Lars

3

LARS

L eaning back in my chair, I scan the numbers on the spreadsheet before me. Ty's trailer is cramped, the air thick with the scent of his cigarettes and the faint aroma of cotton candy from outside.

"Willow Creek is going to be big for us," I say, tapping my finger on the projected sales figures. "We've got the Blackwood brothers from Ravenwood and Carlo's crew from Bridgwater."

Ty nods, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Smoke curls from his nostrils as he exhales. "And they're expecting quality product. Think you can handle the distribution?"

"'Course I can handle it," I scoff. "When have I ever let you down?"

Nash is perched on the edge of Ty's desk. "Lars has it under control, boss. Nobody will suspect a thing with the carnival in full swing."

I shoot Nash a look. He's right, though. The bright lights, the laughter, the scent of fried food—it's the perfect cover. No one looks twice at a traveling carnival, especially not the cops.

Ty leans forward, stubbing out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. "Just make sure it stays that way. We can't afford any slip-ups, not with the kind of money we're talking about here."

I nod, my jaw clenching. I know the stakes because I've been in this game long enough to understand the risks. But the thrill of it, the rush of pulling off a big deal right under everyone's noses - that's what keeps me going.

"We'll get it done," I assure Ty. "Just like always."

Ty's piercing gaze meets mine for a long moment before he nods, satisfied.

"I still think we should bring in some extra hands for this run," I say, leaning back in my chair. "Cade's been antsy as hell lately. Could use something to keep him occupied."

Ty shakes his head. "No way in hell am I letting that psycho anywhere near this operation. There's a reason I invested in the secret compartments in the trailers. I don't need anyone else knowing about the side hustle." He runs a hand across the back of his neck. "Cade's too damn unhinged, you know that."

Nash whistles from his perch on the desk. "Gotta agree with the boss on this one, Lars. Cade's been acting crazier than usual lately. Remember that time in Flagstaff when he damn near torched the whole midway?"

I grimace at the memory. Cade had gotten it into his head that one of the game operators was skimming from the till. Things escalated quickly, as they often did with Cade. By the time the dust settled, half the carnival was in shambles.

"Yeah, but maybe having something to focus on would help keep him in line," I argue. "You know how restless he gets when he's got too much idle time on his hands."

Ty fixes me with a hard stare. "I said no, Lars, and that's final. Cade's a liability, plain and simple. I'm not risking our whole operation because you think you can keep that lunatic under control."

I hold up my hands in surrender, knowing better than to push Ty. He's the boss for a reason, and he's rarely wrong when judging character.

"Alright, alright. We'll handle it without Cade," I concede.

Ty grunts in response, returning to the stack of papers on his desk. Nash catches my eye and gives me a sympathetic shrug like he knows there's no use arguing with Ty once his mind is made up.

As I stand to leave, a twinge of unease washes over me. Cade's antics have been escalating lately, and sooner or later, something's gonna give. But I'll have to trust that Ty knows what he's doing now. After all, he's kept this operation running smoothly for years. What could possibly go wrong?

I leave Ty's trailer, squinting against the neon lights of the carnival. The smell of engine grease fills my nostrils as I weave through the maze of rides, game booths, and punters.

As I approach the Ferris Wheel, my boots crunch against the gravel, the towering ride casting long shadows across the midway. This is where I'm supposed to meet her.

Alice.

I check my watch, frowning at the time. She's already five minutes late. Punctuality has never been my strong suit, but tardiness in others grates on me. I lean against the railing, scanning the thinning crowd for any sign of her.

Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. A muscle in my jaw twitches with growing irritation. I should've known better than to expect a townie to show up on time, if at all. They look at us carnies like we're some kind of sideshow freaks, only good for a cheap thrill before they go running back to their safe, mundane lives.

Twenty minutes now. My fingers drum an impatient rhythm against the metal railing as I curse myself for being so damn eager in the first place. What about this girl made me forget how this usually goes? One look at her sweet face and those big green eyes, and I was hooked, like a damn kid at a ring toss game.

I shake my head in disgust, pushing off from the railing. Screw this. I won't stand around here like an idiot, waiting for a girl who obviously has no intention of showing up.

Anger propels me forward, my boots kicking up dust as I stalk away from the Ferris Wheel and toward the main gate. If she wants to play games, fine by me. Two can play at that.

I'll have to track her down myself and get some answers. No one blows me off without facing the consequences. She's gonna learn real quick that us carnies don't take too kindly to being made fools of.

I stroll down the main street of this town, eyeing the groups of girls meandering toward the carnival. My gaze lingers on a cluster of them, probably around Alice's age, giggling over some dumb joke.

Perfect.

Throwing on my most charming smile, I saunter over to them. "Hey there, ladies."

They turn toward me, eyes widening as they take in my form, the tats, the tight shirt showing off my toned arms, the cocky grin. I can practically see them getting flustered already. This is gonna be too easy.

"You ladies know a girl named Alice around here?" I ask, laying on the smooth confidence. "Pretty little thing, long dark hair, green eyes?"

One of them, a blonde with too much makeup, nods eagerly. "Oh yeah, Alice Jensen! She lives over on Cedar Street." She rattles off an address without hesitation.

Idiots.

I flash them another smile. "Thanks, darlin'. You've been a big help."

Leaving them in a tizzy of giggles, I head off down the sidewalk, that familiar thrill of the hunt coursing through me. Cedar Street is pretty close, just a few blocks from Main Street.

It doesn't take long to find the place—a ground-floor apartment. Through the front window, I can see the flicker of a TV and the muffled sounds of a movie drifting out.

Keeping low, I slink around to the side. I press myself against the wall of the building, peering through the gloom toward the window.

There she is, stretched out on the sofa. Her friend from the carnival is curled up in an armchair nearby. They're engrossed in whatever's playing on the screen, oblivious to me lurking just outside.

Alice laughs at something, her head thrown back in abandon. God, she's gorgeous like that, uninhibited and free. A lock of her dark hair falls across her face and she brushes it back absently, those delicate fingers tucking it behind her ear.

My hands clench into fists as a familiar ache coils low in my gut. She thinks she can just blow me off for a fucking movie with her friend, does she? Well, she's got another thing coming.

I watch a while longer, committing every detail of her to memory. The curve of her lips, the slope of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. By the time this is over, she'll know exactly who she's dealing with.

No one makes a fool out of Lars Taylor. Alice is gonna learn that lesson real quick.