Page 40 of Hot Shot

I don’t have relationships like this. Yeah, I have Beck and Cade, and that’s great. But I can’t help but think of my sister and wonder where she is.

I give my head a brief shake and focus back on Carrie.

“It started off as a way to express her feelings,” she continues softly. “Venting her anger on something nonthreatening and safe.”

As opposed to the parents, whose breakup apparently caused all this?

“As she got better, she attracted attention, and then being part of that group became important to her. Somewhere she felt accepted. Somewhere she belonged.”

Fuck. I get that too. I know how shitty it feels not to belong anywhere, to anyone.

“The graffiti is almost a competition,” Carrie says. “Trying to outdo each other.”

“And defacing every building in the neighborhood.”

“Not every building,” Julia mutters.

“So it wasn’t all you?” I ask.

“No.” She shakes her hair back and meets my eyes. “But I’ve done some.” Her bottom lip trembles. “Are you going to call the police?”

I don’t answer right away, letting her stew a bit.

I meet Carrie’s eyes. I already told her I’m not going to call the cops. Julia wouldn’t go to jail; I know that. But she does need to learn a lesson.

Carrie sits there looking so calm and goddamn beautiful it eases some of the tension that turns my muscles to rock and tightens my chest. The way she looks at her niece, holds her hand, speaks in that reassuring tone . . . Christ, I want that. But I can never have that.

“Marco.” She holds my gaze. “Julia’s not a criminal.”

Yes, she is.Right or wrong. Black or white.

And yet . . . I swallow a sigh. “We’d need to make a deal,” I say finally, my gaze sliding back to Julia.

“Wh-what kind of deal?”

“You have to remove the graffiti.”

Her face crumples and she closes her eyes.

Christ, does it mean that much to her? Confused, I look back at Carrie, who’s also gazing at Julia with concern.

But Carrie lifts her head and fixes her gorgeous gray-blue eyes on me again. “How would you feel if someone took one of your sculptures and smashed it to pieces with a sledgehammer?”

My body goes very still, and my heart thuds against my ribs.

“Sculptures?” Julia asks in a small but interested voice.

“Christ,” I mutter, swiping a hand over my face. “It can’t stay there, Carrie.”

“I know.” She turns to Julia and squeezes her hand. “I have an idea, honey, but we can talk about that later.”

What? What idea?

“What if Marco hires someone to cover up the graffiti, and you pay him back for the cost of that.”

“I don’t have any money,” Julia says. “Other than my allowance and a little bit I saved from baby-sitting.”

“You could work here to pay off the debt,” I say. “You can’t work in the bar, of course, but you could wash dishes.”

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