Page 30 of Live Love Steal
“Yeah, heard about that. Someone tried to hotwire it?”
“Technically, a brute force break of the column exposing the lock cylinder. Stupid cost-cutting bullshit.” I remembered exactly how Sketch pointed it all out. And on the heels of that, marveled at how much I sounded like my dad. “You might know my dad. Joe Adelard?”
Wolf nodded. “I think I’ve met him once or twice.” He lifted his nose to call someone over. “Griz, you know a mechanic named Adelard?”
Said biker nodded. “Yup. Runs a repair shop south of 81. Mostly auto, but some light truck.”
“That’s him.” They knew my dad. I was kind of proud and held a bit of awe that my father knew bikers, and they knew him.
Wolf pointed at my head. “Daughter.” He said it loud enough that most of the bar heard.
Griz’s eyes dipped to my legs.
Sketch pulled me backwards against him and wrapped an arm around my waist. His fingers splayed wide across my stomach. If I weren’t still mad at him, that might have been hot. Then again, this was one of those times I shouldn’t argue. I wasn’t drunk enough to forget all the warnings I’d heard about these guys. Griz looked like he ate his namesake for breakfast. And he wasn’t nearly as bulky as Wolf or Bear or Smoke, which meant he was just plain scary.
I leaned into Sketch’s hold. “When are we leaving?”
“Soon.” His breath brushed my ear, and I almost lost track of why I was angry. Laptop. Car. Right. He smelled good.
Like single-batch bourbon.
8
Vunerability - Sketch
As we walked to the car, Isobel leaned over and took a long, hard look at the license plate. Drunk as she was, she stumbled. Then recovered to glare at me.
“You better sober up before you drive home.”
That earned me another glare.
I held open the passenger door and helped her inside so she wouldn’t bump her head. Then got in the other side, turned my makeshift key, and once the car was running, taped the loose wires and pieces into place so they wouldn’t be dangling against my leg like they were on the way here.
We’d just cleared the gates when she started in.
“Where is my car?”
“Harrisburg.” I turned onto the highway.
“I know my plate number, and well…” She motioned to the back end of the vehicle. “You stole my plates.”
I hadn’t, but by proxy, I had. So, I didn’t deny it.
“Why steal my car, then?”
My silence wasn’t an answer.
“Why? Sketch. You already had my plates. Why break my window and beat up my car? Do you have something against me? My father?” Her voice rose.
“Ground rule number one. No talking.”
She opened her mouth.
“Ground rule number two, as soon as I get your car from Whoosh, you’re on your own.”
“No.”
What was she going to accuse me of now?
