19 Chapter 19

"Okay Scuttles, I don't particularly like seafood, but I'm willing to make an exception if you don't calm the fuck down and just get in the damn bucket," Riley growled at the angry, snapping creature she'd managed to corner in her mother's kitchen.

If she didn't already know Cilia had serious issues she would consider having the woman committed for allowing a crab of this size and ugliness to free roam in her house while she went off to count cards at an underground casino. Riley swallowed a scream as Scuttles lunged at her, snapping at her shoelaces in an attempt to drive her away from his prized corner. She drove him back with the BBQ tongs she'd snatched from the counter and swung her bucket at the claw the little bastard was waving at her.

She quickly glanced over her shoulder at the shadowy doorway of the cottage-like bungalow and held her breath. There had been a guy watching the front of the house. She'd seen the flare of his smoke as he sat in his car. She guessed he wasn't bothering to be too stealthy because she had told his boss that Cilia had left town. There wasn't any point in Riley coming back to the house. He was probably just a precaution.

Riley had gone through the neighbour's yard to get to her mom's house. The dog had greeted her silently. Apparently, Cilia's barking experiment had done one good thing. Giving the dog toys back had made her a non-barking friend for life. The boxer-cross had greeted her excitedly, jumping all around and dragging her into the flower bed with kisses of joy. She'd hugged him around the neck and glanced up at the silent house to make sure their enthusiastic greeting hadn't woken anyone up, then proceeded over the fence and through the side door.

"Oh god, oh god," Riley mumbled, "please don't take a finger, Scuttles!"

She lunged forward and slammed the bucket over the smelly, angry creature. He smashed his body against the side of the plastic bucket in violent protest to his captivity. She personally thought he should have taken it up with Cilia.

Riley's phone chose that moment to buzz an incoming text message. She rolled her eyes, but grinned. It had been 24 hours since Soloman 'lost' his prize and he'd called and texted her pretty much consistently after giving her a solid eight hours of sleep. She ignored the calls, but occasionally responded to the texts when they didn't piss her off. Each one was becoming progressively more demanding. This one wasn't from Soloman, though. She maneuvered herself so she was sitting on top of the bucket.

Wendell: UR in Reaper

Riley's jaw dropped and she could barely type the words.

Riley: Sparrow Hawk Cup???!!!

Wendell: Got the invite at the shop. Had to sneak it by your stalker tho. Don't think he saw anything.

It was everything Riley could do to contain the scream of pure excitement that bubbled up inside her. She stomped her feet on the ground and flailed her arms instead, causing her crabby friend to react angrily. She knocked on the side of the bucket. He knocked back. She stifled a laugh. Maybe she should keep the little bastard. He had serious attitude.

Riley: Want details buddy!

Wendell: U get them when I C U for practice. Babe U got work to do if U gonna win this.

Riley sighed. He was right, she'd been too busy with work lately to practice as much as she should be. Some of the guys she was going up against were damn good. Rich dudes that spent their entire lives racing expensive cars. She was a natural talent and she had a trick up her sleeve, but she needed to spend a few days preparing. Honing her timing and working with Wendell on their partnership. He would be in her ear while she raced.

Riley: We're on lockdown thanks to my not-so-secret admirer. How R we supposed to practice?

Wendell: I'll think of something. Just be ready to go when I say. K?

Riley: Yeah, NP. Sparrow Hawk, bitch!!!!

Wendell: UR going, Reaper baby!

Riley: No, we're going!!!

She grinned and looked down at the bucket between her legs. "You ready to go swimming, guy?"

* * *

Riley pulled her car in for a tire change, glancing surreptitiously around as she climbed out the window of Wendell's Acura. Wendell had assured her repeatedly that no one had followed them to the track. He'd also purposely chosen a rough, little used, little known track two counties over in a place called Blackbird for Riley to practice on. She still felt exposed. Like Soloman was going to swoop in any second and snatch her away.

Riley had been holed up in her dingy little garage for nearly two days, hiding from Soloman and his men. Wendell had assured her that Soloman had eyes on the shop at all times so she absolutely could not go into work for any reason. The boss man himself had actually gone down to the garage and insisted on the full tour, which Wendell was smart enough to give him. Luckily for Wendell and his acting abilities, Soloman seemed to believe he had no clue where Riley was. Either that, or Soloman was having Wendell followed and waiting to dismember him until after Riley was found.

Wendell had managed to dislodge his tail through a clever exchange of cars and dumb luck. Someone had set fire to another one of Soloman's vehicles while it was parked outside of Riley's shop. Wendell had rushed out to help stop the fire, negating the need to keep eyes on him, which is when he'd managed to slip away and meet Riley. He'd driven to Riley's hidden garage to pick her up in a tow truck with his car and several sets of tires. Now they were holed up in a cheap motel in a small town paying only cash and practicing from dawn until dusk. It'd been nearly two days since their arrival in Blackbird. A total of five since she'd escaped Soloman's club.

Instead of switching out the tires, Wendell was deep in conversation on his phone, wandering toward the edge of the overgrown track. Riley watched him curiously for a moment and then went to work on the first tire. She hated changing tires. It was her least favourite chore as an auto mechanic, which is why she preferred Wendell do it for her. She wouldn't get a chance to switch tires during the big race, which is one of the things she and Wendell had been working on. How to preserve tire integrity. Not something she usually cared a lot about when she raced, but the Sparrow Hawk Cup was a much longer race than she was used to.

Just as she finished tightening the last bolt on the first tire, Wendell slammed his hand down on the hood of the car making Riley jump and drop the tire iron. She stared up at him in surprise. Wendell rarely got angry, but he looked absolutely livid. His pale face was flushed red and his blond eyebrows were shoved down over flashing blue eyes.

"What's going on?" Riley asked in concern, pushing herself off the ground.

"It's Treena," he snapped. His wife.

She figured he'd been talking to his wife. Wendell didn't actually talk to anyone else over the phone, not even his own mother. He was a text only kind of guy. Riley touched his arm soothingly and asked, "What's up, Wendell? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, for now she is," he growled, shoving a hand through his sweat-streaked mop of hair. "Your fucking boyfriend showed up at the house."

"No!" Riley gasped, covering her mouth and stepping back. Her eyes widened and filled with tears. She shook her head. She should have realized this would happen when Wendell disappeared. She had been so stupid! How could she put Treena and the kids in danger like that?

Riley turned on the spot and headed toward the tow truck, then turned back around and reached for the car, then changed her mind again. "Shit, I should have known! I'm so sorry, Wendell. I have to go back. I'll do it right now. I'll go to him, I'll call off his hunt. I won't let him near your family again."

Wendell reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her around gently to face him. "Riley, stop."

She shook her head and tried to pull away, but he didn't let her go. "Wendell, I've put your family in danger. I have to go back to him!"

He shook her arm, drawing her attention to him. "No, Riley. Treena's fine. He didn't threaten her or anything. Just wanted to know where I was. Treena couldn't tell him anything because I didn't tell her. Hell, if anything she feels sorry for the guy. You know how she is, an incurable romantic. She thinks anyone that looks like him, with a past like his must be some kind of tragic soul."

A bubble of laughter burst out of Riley as she pictured Wendell's tiny, round wife fawning over the big, bad mob boss, forcing baked goods and sympathy on the man while he grilled her for information. He wouldn't know what hit him. The kids, aged fourteen months and three years would be all over him along with the two cats and two dogs. There was not a shy creature in that household.

"Besides," Wendell continued, "Treena is first and foremost a huge fan of the Reaper. She would never forgive either of us if you didn't compete in this race. She has all her splurge money riding on you, babe."

Riley nodded her head, tears filling her eyes. She grinned up at her best friend. "I don't know how you convinced that woman to marry you, Wendell, but you are the luckiest guy in the world."

"Fuck, don't I know it," he said, grinning back. "She's about the only wife in the world that would believe I could share a motel room with a woman that looks like you and keep it business only."

"Yeah," Riley agreed. "Let's keep that little fact on the DL because I don't think a certain Mr. Hart is going to see our sharing a room the same way."

A look of sheer horror crossed Wendell's ruddy features as though the thought had never crossed his mind before now. "I'm a dead man," he groaned.

"Yeah, you are," she laughed. "Can you finish changing the tires before it happens though? I'm so over this."