Page 31 of Alliance

“Yes,” I say. “No,” I add quickly. “I don’t know.”

John chuckles, and Sam comes closer. “Lana,” Sam breathes, “I need you to stay strong, okay? I’m… I’m working on something, but I need you to stay strong. Okay?”

I don’t recognize the strangled laugh that leaves my lips. “Easy for you to say,” I mutter harshly. “You’re not the one in the white dress.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “But I can’t help you if you fling yourself over this balcony, do you understand?” His hands find my shoulders, squeezing into bare skin there.

His words slice through me like a knife. I don’t know if he’s making a jab at my sister or if he can see through me. If he can read the thoughts that spiral through my head and knows that jumping is an option. An option that’s in bright flashing letters.

“Lana,” he says again. “Can you do this for me? Can you be strong?”

I feel like a child again. Can I be strong? Can I be brave?

Everything in me screams no. But I nod my head at Sam and whisper a faint yes.

I cantryto be strong.

“But hurry,” I whisper.

Chapter Fifteen

SAM CALLS RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,giving me a location to meet and nothing more. I’m itching to get back to work. The money I squirreled away has started to dwindle, and it’s more than just me that depends on it.

I meet Sam in a rough area of the warehouse district. He parks his shiny Audi next to my Jeep and steps out of the car, lifting a pair of aviators from his eyes. Sam is the kind of made man who always looks like he’s about to make a business deal.

Clean cut in a pair of black slacks with a button-down shirt tucked in. His suit jacket is missing, probably because even in December, Louisiana is hot. The temperature fluctuates between chilly and scorching this time of year. Today falls in the scorching category.

Sam gives me an easy smile as he swings the Audi’s door shut and rounds the front of the car. “Ready for your first day?” he asks.

I have no idea what Sam does or if it’s even different from the jobs I did for Marcus. How stupid is that? To accept a job when you don’t even know what it entails? All I know is that if Sam is true to his word and gets me my button, I won’t have to worry about assholes like Marcus and Damien ever again.

I have to keep my eye on the prize, not let anything step in the way.

Again.

Stay alive. Make money. Get made.

Those are the priorities. Those are the pillars that I cling on to. That’s all that matters.

Sam weaves us into the warehouse. Lifting the heavy gate and closing it once we both walk through. “This”—he gestures to the large industrial space filled with cars, or pieces of cars rather—“is the chop shop.”

He smiles widely as he looks to me. “Do you like cars, Naz?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, running a hand through my hair. I’ve loved cars since I was kid. I’m pretty sure the first job I told my mom I wanted was to be a racecar driver. The sleek paint, the engines, the speed, I love all of it. In another life I might have been a mechanic. But in this life, I needed more money than that would have offered. “Yeah, I like cars.”

“Good,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “This will be yours then.”

His words don’t make sense at first. I don’t comprehend what he means by sayingthis will be mine.

“You’ll run this crew.” He waves his hand to the warehouse again. My eyes roam the open space. There are men working on the cars, removing tires and engine blocks. I know what they’re doing, pulling the pieces from the car, selling everything they can individually and raking in profits. The cars are probably stolen. From the looks of it, they’re all high end. A Jaguar sits in front and center, and there’s a BMW behind it. There are about five men working in the warehouse. Each in casual clothing, their hands wrapped in mechanic gloves and their jeans covered in grease.

“I don’t understand,” I tell Sam.

“You’ll run this crew,” he repeats. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. This will bring in more money than what you were making from Marcus. The boys will jack the cars and sell the parts, you just need to keep them on schedule. You pay them a cut of what they bring back, and then you’ll get a chunk, but you’ll need to kick up a percentage to me. A high percentage, Naz.” He eyes me as he says the last part.

I know how the rules work inLa famiglia, you don’t make nearly as much as the boss. That’s the way it’s always been. The lower rungs of the ladder do all the work, kick the dollars back up to the bosses’ pocket.

But what Sam is offering takes me up more than a level on the ladder. He’s offering me a whole crew. I’ll be taking a cut of what all these guys make. Right now, I get a portion of what I sell and then Marcus takes the rest, presumably kicking some up to Damien. But what Sam is proposing puts me at the same level of Marcus.

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