Chapter 8

J ace knew he had to let the theft play out.

Shortly after 1:00 a.m., Jace waited in the shadows a block away from the target on a crotch rocket borrowed from the garage, one he'd fixed in a hurry after Lance gave the directive. He scanned the area. No cops. The night was quiet, not even the hint of a security guard patrolling this section of town.

No traffic, either, which made the store a perfect target.

Kara's store. How he wished she'd moved someplace. Anyplace. Alaska would be fine.

Balancing himself on the bike, he gritted his teeth, watching the store while listening for traffic, for an alarm, for a poor innocent bystander chancing upon the scene. Lance had given orders. Jace was a diversion if anyone spotted them leaving the scene. He'd given Jace a semiautomatic pistol and ordered him to eradicate any witnesses.

Jace agreed, but he was here to make damn sure no one got hurt.

Stars blanketed the dark night, but a few clouds scudded over the lemon wedge of moon. The air was crisp and cool for southern Florida. He tugged at the hoodie of his black jacket, flexed his fingers. Tucked into a holster in the back of his jeans was the gun he didn't intend to use, except to fire into the air overhead if necessary.

Lance never asked if I had good aim.

Engines running, three crotch rockets with riders sat outside Kara's store, including Dylan. Kid was nervous as hell, bouncing up and down on the seat, revving the engine. The two others joked in low voices while the bikers were inside, helping themselves to the jewelry. Finally, the trio emerged, carrying backpacks. They jumped on the waiting bikes and roared off.

As instructed, Jace remained behind for a moment. He knew Lance set him up to take the fall for the burglary if cops showed up. He was the newbie.

Craning his neck, he saw a late-model sedan pull up near the store. Jace cursed. He knew that car. Kara.

Jace gunned the engine and took off after the others, weaving in and out of traffic as they reached downtown, hoping if Kara was foolish to give chase, she'd follow him and not the others. Diversion, all right.

Taking a turn, he leaned into it, using his right foot to balance as he glanced at the rearview mirrors. No one following.

After a few minutes, satisfied that Kara hadn't given chase, he headed for the clubhouse. He stopped in front of the garage attached to the building, opened the door and parked the bike inside. Breathing easy, he sauntered into the clubhouse.

Club members were scarce tonight, knowing something was going down. Only the three kids, Dylan included, Big Mike, Snake and Maverick gathered in the living room around the scratched dining table. They all glanced up. Light glinted off the barrel of the Glock that Big Mike pointed at him.

Jace held up his hands. "Relax. It's me."

Big Mike lowered the gun. "Lock the door."

Jace locked the door, then removed the pistol and placed it on the table. "No one followed me. Made sure of it."

"Better not have." Big Mike holstered the Glock. "Okay, guys, dump it."

Three backpacks were tipped over, the contents clattering as they hit the wooden table.

Jace stared at the glittering array. Had to be more than six figures in bling. Rubies, sapphires, designer watches and the big prize—a diamond necklace.

Big Mike held up the necklace, grinning. "This will fetch at least two hundred grand."

He anticipated Kara's reaction. Fury. Frustration. And laced through those emotions would be determination to find the thieves. His ex wouldn't be satisfied with a police report or letting authorities handle this.

His gaze flickered to Dylan. Guilt was carved all over the teenager's expression, which became neutral as he realized Jace was studying him.

Jace turned his attention to the jewels. "Nice," he drawled. "But you can't hide them here. Place isn't secure enough. Where are you gonna move them?"

Big Mike frowned. "Marcus is coming for them tomorrow."

Keeping his expression calm to hide his excitement, he nodded. "I get it. Too hot to move until tomorrow."

Maverick, a former tech worker, whistled. "Sweet. That will buy a lot of software."

Big Mike frowned. "This is all for Marcus, dolt. Not us. We'll get our take later."

The biker scooped up the jewels, stuffed them into a small black bag and walked behind the bar. He uncovered a safe hidden behind a loose panel on the wall. He unlocked the safe, placed the bag inside and spun the dial to secure it.

Jace headed for the fridge and popped open a cold one, needing it. He rolled the bottle over his forehead, relishing the coolness, and then took a long drink.

Snake, who had opened the safe and stolen the jewels, stretched. "I need to score some action. Mike, let's get out of here."

"No can do. Someone has to watch the store."

"Gator's here. Let him do it," Snake told him.

"Yeah, but Gator needs sex, too." Maverick winked.

"I'm getting plenty of that tomorrow night," Jace quipped. "Gonna wait for the good stuff. You guys go."

Eyes narrowing, Mike seemed to consider. "Gator, you watch the store. I swear, if I come back and anything's wrong..."

Jace picked up the handgun. "I won't let anything happen."

When they left, Jace went upstairs and texted Rafe that the deed was done.

He returned downstairs to check on the two teenagers who drove the crotch rockets. Seated on the big orange sofa in the game room, they were playing a loud video game on a big-screen television.

Dylan wasn't with him. He was sitting on the sofa in the other room by the window, staring at his phone and looking miserable. Jace joined him.

"Seat taken?" he asked.

Dylan looked up, a little too pale. A little too shaken. "No."

"Everything a-okay?"

A shrug. "My mom's gotten worse. I told her I'd be out all night. She still worries."

His mother's cancer had advanced, from what Jace had overheard. Must tread carefully here, because Dylan looked as skittish as a new colt.

"Chemo can be a real bitch." The casual statement belied his true emotions. He felt for the kid, who had been dealt a raw hand in life.

"The chemo isn't too bad. It's the money." Dylan bit his lip, his brown eyes filled with worry. "Insurance isn't paying anymore."

Jace wished he had enough money to help the kid out. He knew his pain. He had some savings, but it would look suspicious if he gave Dylan money, might blow his cover as a down-and-out mechanic.

"There are ways. Start a GoFundMe," he suggested.

Dylan's expression turned moody. "Yeah, whatever. Lance promised me a cut from tonight's job. A small one because I still owe him a lot for the bike."

Not for the first time, Jace inwardly cursed the gang leader. Dylan was a decent kid. Lance had ensnared him into the gang by buying him a sleek blue racing bike that cost nearly fifty thousand dollars. No way could Dylan afford the motorcycle.

Lance promised Dylan he could pay it off in small installments.

Lance had not told Dylan the installments would include using the bike to steal for him.

"What about selling the bike?" Jace asked. "It's worth a lot of money. I can find you a less expensive one."

Never had he seen the teen more miserable. "I don't own the title. Lance is on the title as well. Can't sell unless he signs off and he won't..."

His voice trailed off. Dylan looked like a fly trapped by a hungry spider, resigned to a fate of being utterly consumed by the spider. The kid looked around, dropped his voice.

"Can I trust you, Jace?"

He nodded, not wanting to push it.

"Trust you not to tell the others?"

"What's wrong? You can, Dylan."

"I feel horrible about tonight... The woman we stole the jewels from tonight—she's my cousin, Kara."

Jace pretended to be surprised. "Kara? Your cousin, the woman I used to date?"

Dylan hung his head. "It's my fault Lance targeted her. He knew I worked for her, heard me talking about that diamond necklace. I don't think he knows we're related, though."

Dylan rubbed his face. "I feel so bad. She's been terrific, giving me a job, cutting me a break and now, I went and stole from her."

"Keep your voice down," Jace warned, glancing around. "I understand. You didn't have much choice, Dylan."

Dylan picked up his cell phone. "Kara's more than my cousin. She's a friend. She understands me. She knows I love video games and she plays them on her phone, too. I even gave her the link to one that Big Mike sent me. Kara loves movies about royalty and kings and queens."

He showed Jace the game he'd downloaded about a prince trying to rescue a princess from a dragon and a burning tower.

"Kara's cool. She's always giving me a monthly bonus, trying to help."

He handed Dylan back his cell. The kid looked miserable.

"I took photos of the inside of the store, told Lance about the layout of the shop. Lance said she'd be covered by insurance. It doesn't matter. I still stole from her."

A conscience was a welcome sign. Guilt. Dylan wasn't like the other kids, who didn't care about the consequences for the people they robbed.

"Something will work out. Believe me, it will."

More than that, he couldn't say.

Dylan didn't answer, only stared at his boots, looking morose. Jace sighed. "Why don't you join your friends? Sounds like they're having fun."

The teenager scoffed. "All they care about. They live for the thrill. They're not my friends. I haven't had a real friend since my best friend, Conner, died when we lived in the old neighborhood. Sometimes I think Kara hired me because of what happened to Conner."

Interest pricking, Jace studied him. "Why would she care?"

But Dylan shook his head. "Long story. Jace, I have to get out of this. I have to find a way out. My mom doesn't need to worry about me anymore. The stress can make the cancer worse."

If Lance will let you go . A chill raced down his spine. "Worry about that tomorrow. Go have some fun."

He shoved at Dylan. "Go on, kid."

The tension in his chest eased a little as Dylan went into the other room. Dylan was right. He had to get out of this gang. But he was a material witness and Jace knew Big Mike and Lance wouldn't let him go so easily. The gang was like a roach motel—once you checked in, there was no leaving.

And Lance is the head roach, who makes promises to a desperate teenager who only wants money so his mom can get chemo . Disgusted, Jace stood and went over to the window.

He went still.

Someone was outside, listening.

Jace slipped out the back door. With extreme stealth, he hugged the building, staying in the shadows until coming to the window over the sofa where he and Dylan had talked.

Though darkness shrouded the figure trying to peer past the partly closed curtains, he needed no light. He knew the slim curvature, every inch of the athletic frame he'd once held in his arms and made love to each night.

Kara.