Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(46)

“Do you mind if I work on some side business during the day? Assuming there’s nothing coming in?” I doubt Rachel will be able to stay late.

Since I was fourteen, I’ve done side work for friends. They find the parts; I do the manual labor in exchange for a fee, parts to supe up my own Mustang, or a debt they owe me to be paid later. The side work typically waits until the garage is officially closed at night, but with business being slow maybe they’ll give on the timing.

Mack sips the whiskey from the bottle. “No problem. What are you working on?”

Anything I can scavenge in order to make extra money. “My car.” I clear my throat. “And a 2005 Mustang GT.”

A ghost of a smile plays on Mack’s lips, creating deep crevices around his mouth. “Finally save enough to supe your car?”

No. “Calling in favors.”

More like I’m calling in debts owed to me. Debts I saved for times when I would need help—like bail. Some of those people will pay in cash. Others who don’t have a cash flow can supply parts. I hate that I’m using my rainy-day fund, but owing Eric could be worse than jail.

“And I’m assuming that’s why I’m here?” asks Abby from behind me.

Mack, Tom and I turn our heads. She nods at me, acknowledges Tom, and like always, ignores Mack. Mack finishes the whiskey, throws the empty bottle into the trash and leaves the office. He’ll be MIA for the rest of the day. Abby’s never told me why the two stare at each other from opposite sides of a battlefield, and because I respect her, I never ask.

Tom pats his pocket again, still searching for his cigarettes. “Keep your politics out of my garage, Miss Abby.”

Politics as in her drugs. Tom’s the only person I’ve seen Abby cave to. “I always do.”

“Good.” By the way Tom’s eyes glaze over I can tell we’ve lost him to a memory.

I head to the other side of the garage and Abby follows.

“Everyone knows about the deal you made with Eric,” she says. “He means business, Isaiah, and he wants your head and Fuzzy Bunny’s on a platter. Eric’s threatened to retaliate against anyone who helps you raise the money.”

Shit. That complicates things. I had hoped to raise half of the five thousand from collecting on debts. Now I’ll have to rely solely on the parts. “I’ll respect whatever decision you make as long as you make it now. What side are you playing, Abby? Are you my friend in this or my enemy?”

“I can’t help,” she says.

I place my hands on the tool bench and lean into it. Not what I wished to hear. “Abby...”

“I can’t give you money.” Her eyes flash to mine. “What I make, I need. Eric may own some of the streets, but he doesn’t own me. I’ll help in what ways I can, but I still have to watch my own back.”

Because nobody else will. She doesn’t have to say that part. Because life is like that for me, too. I straighten. It’s her response and I have to accept it. “I have favors to call in, and I’d like some help doing it.”

“I’m game.” With a tilt of her chin, she falls into business mode. I hate that deadpan look, but that expression is the reason I’m asking for her help. The amount of work to be accomplished would normally take weeks. I don’t have weeks. I’m allowing days on a job that needed to be done last night.

I snag a list from my back pocket and tell her the names of the people to visit. As she listens, her only change in expression is one eyebrow that slowly lifts and then just as slowly eases down. She shoves the list into her jeans. “You’ve been busy playing Boy Scout to a lot of resourceful people.”

Yeah, I have. “I like knowing there’s help when I need it.”

“Or you could save your full house for another play and take the offer of jacking the cars. With your car knowledge you could easily steal five in a night. You’d have Eric off your back and Fuzzy Bunny on your arm by the time the church doors open tomorrow morning.”

I shake my head before she finishes. “I’m doing this clean.” Illegally street racing got me in this mess and I don’t want to take the chance of screwing things up more.

“Clean?” Her mouth flattens into a thin line. “How do you think these people are going to supply the car parts you’re asking for as payment? You honestly think they’re going to waltz into a store and buy them?”

No. I don’t. But I’m all for claiming denial. “Last time I’m saying it. Choose now if you’re going to help.”

“God, you’re cranky. What does that girl see in you?”

I have no idea. “She likes my tats.”

The deadpan look washes away and she laughs. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch. Fine, waste a good list like this on car parts. I’ll check in later.” Without another word, Abby walks out of the garage.

I run a hand over my head and contemplate calling Rachel. I crave hearing her voice again, but she’ll expect answers and I only have theories. After I talk to my list of people, I’ll know more and then I can tell her to come.

I’m still not good enough for a girl like her, but she’s back in my life and she needs someone to protect her. I’ll fill the role and absorb as much of her light as I can before she leaves me behind in the darkness.