Page 23 of Average Joe

Her head shot up, eyes widening, like my concern had been a surprise. Or maybe she was offended? Either way, she shifted on her feet, then sighed.

“Everything’s great,” she mumbled. She turned and left but threw over her shoulder, “Good to see you,” like we hadn’t been intimate. Like I hadn’t been inside her body, or she hadn’t left claw marks on my back or scars on my soul. Like she was erecting a giant fucking wall meant only to keep me out.

Challenge accepted.

“You ever wanna talk, I’m just a few feet away,” I said to her back, and yes, I took advantage of the view, soaking up the sight of those toned legs, the sway of her small hips, and the confident set of her shoulders.

Fuck. I wanted to follow her inside. Sink into that tight body. Get lost in her smell, her moans, or hell, even just trap her between my arms and hold her for a while.

Instead, I looked left and right before crossing the street back to my own front door. Then I looked left again because the white car with dark windows parked half a block down had caught my eye. The same 370Z NISMO I’d seen two days ago parked on the opposite side of the road.

Something about that rare beauty didn’t sit right. Maybe I was paranoid, or bored, or perhaps dear ol’ Dad, on the rare occasions he’d acted fatherly, had instilled in me the importance of paying attention to my surroundings.

I considered getting a closer look at the Nissan when another car caught my eye. A familiar black Caddy.

Crusty fucker. What was he up to?

My first instinct? Grab a rock and smash his window, the standard Kaine reaction to possible threats—crush them before they crush you.

Every cell in my body itched for a fight, or to at least scare some sense into my uncle, but I refused to cause a scene in Alice’s neighborhood in front her friends. I wouldn’t tarnish her name.

I looked down at the now twisted and crumpled mail in my hands and drew in a steadying breath.

I’d deal with Larry on his turf, not mine.

* * *

The secured building had been easy enough to breach. One well-practiced smile and innocent lie to the sweet woman who’d returned from walking her poodle, and I was in.

She headed toward the elevator. I found the stairs and hiked to the sixth floor.

Number sixty-nine hung in gold letters above the peephole. I bit back a laugh while I banged with an angry fist.

Larry yanked open the door. “What’re you doing here?” he grumbled, a grimace on his face, his thick gray hair slicked back and shiny.

“We need to talk.”

His grip tightened on the doorknob, the veins on his arms popping. “’Bout what? I said my final goodbye the day you laid Alice to rest.”

I shoved past the man and made my way inside. His modest apartment reeked of cologne and cigars. “See, that’s the thing. Can’t wrap my head around the fact you showed up at her funeral. Wondering why.”

Larry slammed the door and avoided eye contact while tucking his navy striped button-up into his jeans. “Getting on in my years, boy. People around me are dropping like flies. Gets a man thinking. Gets a man pondering his regrets.”

“Regrets?” I snarled. “Bullshit.” I glared down at him. “See, I think you showed up hoping Alice had the heart to leave you something in her will.”

Nostril’s flared, he hit me with an icy glare. “I knew better’n that. Alice never liked me.” He pointed a shaky finger my way. “Funny. You made out well. How is it you inherited everything my brother left behind after what you did?”

Larry’s hate for me was palpable. Couldn’t blame him.

Since Alice no longer needed protecting, I could’ve hit Larry with the cold, hard truth about that night. But fuck that and fuck him.

Larry had been an active participant when Bill had conned Alice into marriage and had been more than willing to help siphon her five-million-dollar bequeathal.

“Only thing I know,” my uncle continued, “is you were living under his roof, off his charity, and now he’s dead.”

Like he deserved, I left unspoken.

“Larry.” My patience wore dangerously thin. “Why are you casing my home?”

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