Page 33 of Rio's Release

“I understand that, but right now, selling it fast is more important to me.”

“Okay. I’ll get a market evaluation and get back to you.”

“Thank you. It’s for the best.”

“If you want a quick sale, I’ll find you one.” She clicks her briefcase closed and shakes my hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

I’ve got the roll up doors closed, but I left the access door open when I brought Claire in for a tour.

Jenny passes her at the door and rushes in.

I turn to put my father’s old ledger away on the wooden desk against the wall. On the opposite wall is a rack full of tires he stored in this garage portion of the building. The sales counter and small tire displays are through the door in the other part of the building.

“Shelby, oh, my God. This is big. So big. He’s back.”

I turn. “Who?” I barely get the word out before my eyes lift to the two men walking in the door behind Jenny.

Rio.Oh. My. God.

My stomach drops like a rock.

Jenny steps between us, the ever-protective friend, and I love her for it.

Rio glances at Jenny. “I get you wanting to protect your friend. I admire the loyalty, but I’m not here to hurt her. Think you could give us a minute?”

Jenny turns to me, shaking her head, but I nod.

“It’s okay,” I murmur.

She swivels back to Rio, lifting her chin and clutching the strap of her handbag tightly. “I’ve got a gun in my purse. Just so you know.”

Rio gives her a half-grin. “Noted.”

The man with him takes Jenny’s elbow. “Come on, doll. Let’s walk outside and compare weapons.”

Jenny gives me a wide-eyed look.

“She’ll be fine,” Rio insists.

My pulse is beating a mile a minute. He looks good.So. Good.There are a few more lines around his eyes, and a little gray in his hair, but he looks even leaner and more muscular. “So, you’re out of prison.”

“Yep. Been looking for you. You’ve been hard to find.” He glances around. “What is this place? It doesn’t look open.”

“It isn’t. It was my father’s place.”

“Ah, yes. The asshole. I remember him. I went by there, but it looked like no one lived there.” He tilts his head. “Wait. You said thiswasyour father’s?”

“He’s dead.” At the questioning expression he gives me, I elaborate. “A robbery gone bad.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Really? I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

He quirks a brow. “I see.”

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