God, he was such a bastard. This was all his fault. They’d been friends with Jimmy and Carlos since they’d set up here. They played poker either at the shop or their place every week. It’d been hard keeping business and personal separate but he’d thought he’d hidden his private life from Marcel. Until now.
Fuck. What a mess. Guilt ate at him. Why the fuck would Marcel go after these guys?
But to retaliate would only lead to something worse. The last thing they needed was an all-out turf war. They weren’t violent criminals and he didn’t want to head in that direction.
So where did that leave them?
Addison came to mind, small and
vulnerable, looking up at him from her knees. Marcel had said he’d do something worse to someone more important. Maybe he’d meant his father and uncle, or maybe his cousin, although they all had safety precautions in place.
But what if he knew about Addison? Had Marcel’s bitchboys been following him?
He clenched his fists. What if Addison was in danger because of him? She acted all tough, but she was more vulnerable than she thought. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her. He’d gotten too sloppy. She’d be pissed, but no way would he let her be involved in the business now. Her safety took priority.
Jimmy walked toward him, stuffing his phone in his pocket.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Fox said. He gave Jimmy a hug and his friend thumped his back. “We’ll get you fixed up again. I know a guy who’ll start tomorrow, and I’ll get some security here for tonight. I’ll make this right.”
Jimmy stepped back and shook his head. “It’s not your fault, man. It was nice of you guys to come by, but this isn’t on you.”
“It is.” He ran a hand through his hair, surveying the mess. Half of the tools were probably fucked. “You’re not paying a dime. If it wasn’t for us, this would never have happened.”
“Seriously.” Luke slapped Jimmy on the back. “Don’t bother arguing.”
“Yeah,” Atlas agreed. “It’s the least we can do.”
“And we’ll be taking care of Carlos’s hospital bill too,” Fox added.
Apparently Jimmy knew better than to argue because he walked off, mumbling something about stubborn fucks while looking at his phone again.
Atlas turned to Fox. “What do we do now?”
Good question. He had a lot to think about.
***
Sleep deprivation didn’t look good on him. Fox had been avoiding his reflection, and wondered if Addison would take one look at him and safeword before hightailing it back to her car. He felt like a zombie and he was pretty sure he looked like one. Between helping the contractors with the cleanup at the shop, and visiting Carlos at the hospital, they were all running on empty. He needed to sleep for about twenty-four straight hours.
But Addison was on her way over, and they needed to have a serious discussion. Before the mess had happened with Jimmy’s shop, she’d insisted on taking him on a picnic lunch today while they talked about the next job. A picnic. The woman apparently spent far too much time on Pinterest.
She’d been so adorable about it, though, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her it wasn’t really his thing. But she’d be there, and she was bringing food, so he’d agreed.
But in one night, everything had changed. Telling her he wouldn’t be training her anymore seemed wrong to do by text so he’d waited to say it in person. Now his stomach felt like it was eating itself.
Luke and Atlas had fucked off for a while to scope out a high-end car storage facility. It housed a few of the more exotic cars on their current order sheet. Now he sat at the kitchen counter with his computer and coffee, pricing new windows for Jimmy’s shop.
Addison was going to be pissed, but her safety was more important than her temper. With Marcel acting crazy, he just couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t sure what to think about the sudden protective feelings that had come over him in regards to her. It wasn’t like this with other girls he’d dated or fucked. Addison inspired something in him—an intense . . . affection . . . that made him desperate to protect her. His obsession with her was becoming a major distraction, but he couldn’t make himself think of her as a liability.
The doorbell rang.
He gathered his resolve and walked from the kitchen, through the foyer, and to the front door. When he opened it, she greeted him with a sunny smile. Her cut-off denim shorts were too short to be legal. God, he loved her legs.
“Hi!” She was holding a picnic basket, and looked like a grown up Little Red Riding Hood on her way to her granny’s house. Only she’d just ended up at the wolf’s den instead, and smelled good enough to eat.
Her brow furrowed as she looked him over. “Are you okay? You look a little . . . tired.”
“Come in,” he said, moving to the side.