I hear footsteps behind me. Fuck. The last thing I need is Joey LaTorre witnessing this degrading scene.
“Whoa, whoa. Hold up.” Joey’s commanding voice makes the guy take notice, but he just shakes his head and keeps working. “What in the fuck are you doing?”
The tow truck driver, a young guy in gray coveralls and an unshaven jaw looks across my hood at Joey. “She hasn’t paid her car loan, so this car belongs to the bank. I’ve got the papers right here.” He reaches for his pocket.
“Let me see.” Joey walks around and snatches the papers from him. “How much does she owe? I’ll pay for it.”
“I’m not the bank. I’m just the tow guy they sent to pick it up. She can take it up with the bank.”
“No.” Joey holds out a hundred-dollar bill. “Then you heard her. You couldn’t find it.”
The tow truck operator looks at the money long enough that I think he’s going to take it, but then he shakes his head. “Sorry. I can’t take a bribe.”
Joey steps closer. “Take the bribe.” There’s a menace in his tone. “Or don’t. Up to you. But either way, you’re leaving without that car.”
“Look, bro, I don’t–” The tow truck driver must see something in Joey. Something dangerous. Because he takes a step back. “Yeah, okay. I couldn’t find it.” He reaches for the hundred dollar bill, but Joey’s fingers tighten on it, so when he tugs it doesn’t come free.
“Don’t show up here again.” His words are quiet. So very quiet. But there’s a world of threat in them.
“Hey.” I touch Joey’s muscled shoulder. “He’s just doing his job, Joey.”
Joey doesn’t let go of the hundred, nor does he release the guy from his murderous gaze. “Nobody fucks with my girl.”
“Enough, Joey.”
He lets go of the money, and the tow truck driver jams it in his pocket and quickly unhooks my car from his rig. I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Joey, watching as he walks back to his cab.
“What was that?” I demand. “I’m not your girl.”
Joey’s hand drops onto my nape, but he doesn’t take his watchful gaze off the driver. Not until he’s slammed his door, and the truck is chugging down the street. “You are now, angel.”
“I’m not,” I insist. It seems crazy that I’d have to argue this point with a man, but that’s because I haven’t dated a strong-willed Italian man before.
I try to take the papers from Joey’s hand, but he holds them out of my reach.
“What are you doing?”
“Handling this for you.”
With the immediate fear of having my car repossessed gone, a new one takes hold. I don’t want Joey to pay off my loan. I’ll be forever beholden to Joey and the LaTorre mafia if I’m not careful. After all the work my mom put into getting us free of their ties, this would pull me right back into the web.
I rub my forehead. “Look, I appreciate your help, but—”
“Don’t give me grief, Sophie.” With a hand at my back, he guides me back to the door of the massage studio. When we get to the door, I stop and stare at him, my heart pounding a wild rhythm in my chest. I’m outraged and humbled and turned on all at the same time. Considering I can’t do anything with the other two, I opt for humility. “Joey, I can’t pay you back if you mean you’re going to pay off the car.”
There’s no way I’m getting into debt with the mob. I owe over $8,500 with all the late charges and fees tacked on. That’s a lot of money, and I don’t want to owe him any favors.
Once you owe the Family, you belong to them.
He shrugs. “I’m taking care of it.” He opens the packet of papers from the tow truck driver and scans the information.
“No, I can’t allow you to—”
“It’s not up to you.”
Joey
Sophie puts her hands on her hips, looking even hotter when she’s mad. Her long legs jut out of her short khaki skirt at an impudent angle. She tosses her thick, glossy brown hair, sending the layers fanning out over her shoulders in soft waves.