Page 6 of Jep

“Ouch.”

“You know I don’t mean you.”

“Look, you’ve had a bump in the road, and it’s made you grouchy. Tonight, we’ll get all dressed up, and I’ll take you tothat Indonesian restaurant you love. Then I’ll make weird faces at you until you can’t stop laughing, okay?”

Em let her tension out in one long breath. “Thank you for still looking out for me, even though I’m a grown woman.”

“We all need people in our lives who care about us.”

Em glanced at a TV in the window of the shop she was walking by. “Yes we?—”

“Yes we what?” Carla said. “You still there? Em? I think I lost you.”

“No.” She stared at the screen. “I’m here. It’s just…”

“What is it?”

Em read the ticker running across the bottom of the screen as the news item continued.

“There’s been an explosion,” she said, her voice struggling to rise above a whisper.

“Where? Are you okay?”

“Not here. It’s on the news.”

“Oh. Is it bad? Does it have to do with your work?”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” She stumbled backward, turning for the office.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“It’s bad. I don’t—pray, Carla. Just pray.” She hung up before her aunt could ask any questions and ran as fast as she could in heels.

She’d been right, but she hadn’t done enough to stop it.

Chapter 2

Jep’s leatherjacket rasped as he climbed from his motorcycle. He slid his helmet off and hooked it under his arm as he looked up at the workshop. The sad, drooping roof at the front, along with the small rotting sheds to either side, made it look like a frowning monkey. Not good if he was going to grow his business. And that wasn’t the only thing. His lack of motivation and the guys he had working for him made for dreary prospects. He was beginning to wonder if this project had been a mistake from the beginning. Then he remembered he hadn’t had much in the way of options. Maybe today was a good one to have off.

He held his helmet in both hands, about to put it back on and drive away, when a monstrous crash came from inside.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” He looked up at the sky. “I can’t leave them alone for five minutes?” he asked of heaven, not expecting a response. “That’s great. I’ve gone from stopping terrorists to babysitting. I must be the luckiest guy in the world.”

At the sound of another crash, he set his helmet on the seat of the motorcycle before running inside.

At the back of the workshop, Jep found exactly what he expected. Two men fighting for probably no good reason.

“Hey!” he yelled as rushed between them, accidentally intercepting a punch that was meant for the other guy.

“Boss!” the guy who’d hit him yelled as Jep ducked away with his hand clutching his face.

“Look what you did, Moses,” the second one yelled as they both went to check on him, hovering until Jep roared, throwing his arms up and pushing them both away.

“That’s enough,” he said, prodding his cheek bone.

“It was an accident,” Moses said. He was a big guy, but clumsy and awkward, and he had the biggest, darkest eyes Jep had ever seen. “But Slate?—”

“Save it.” Jep righted a shelving unit that had been tipped back against the wall. “What I don’t need are excuses.”

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