Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(23)

“We’re definitely being followed, Finn. What if it’s another one of Marco’s guys?”

I sped up. “Maybe we should call Georgia.”

“And tell her what? What if this guy knows what happened in the salvage yard last night?” Vero sank low in her seat, gnawing her thumbnail as I was forced to stop at a red light. My eyes leapt to the rearview mirror as the Chevy rolled to a stop behind us and the driver opened his door.

“Crap.” I jerked the wheel hard, darting into the entrance of the strip mall beside us.

“What are you doing?” Vero braced herself against the dashboard as I cut through the parking lot, searching for another exit. I slammed on the brakes, skidding on the sleet as a black Camaro cut in front of my hood and jerked to a stop.

The driver’s side door flew open and a hooded figure stormed out. He strode toward the passenger side of the van, his silhouette distorted through Vero’s ice-crusted window.

“Put the van in reverse!” Vero shouted. I shifted into reverse and hit the gas. My tires whined, spinning uselessly on the ice. “Why aren’t we moving?”

“My tires are bald!”

“Why the hell didn’t you have them replaced?”

“Because tires are expensive and you gambled away all our money!”



* * *



The man pounded on Vero’s window, cussing as the tires kicked sleet at him. He reached for the handle of Vero’s door.

“Hell no, you don’t!” She unbuckled her seat belt, put her right foot flat against the passenger door as she released the handle, and kicked the car door open. The doorframe bounced off the man’s forehead. His hood fell back and his feet flew out from under him, dropping him on his ass in a pile of slush.

“Oh, shit.” Vero ducked back in her seat, her eyes wide as she slammed her door. “It’s Javi.”

I lowered the passenger window. Javi’s cheeks were flushed with anger and his lashes were dotted with ice. A goose egg–size bruise was already darkening the middle of his forehead and blood trickled over one irate eyebrow. Vero cringed and raised her window as Javi slowly stood up.

He slid the back door open. It smacked against the end of its track and bounced off his shoulder. Teeth gritted, he climbed into Delia’s seat and slammed the door shut. A puddle was spreading from the hems of his jeans, and he did not look at all happy to be sitting in my daughter’s booster seat.

I put the car in park and rummaged in my purse for a wet wipe. “Here,” I said, passing one back to him. He took it with a begrudged “thanks.”

Vero peeked over the back of her seat and gestured to his forehead. “A little rose hip and some vitamin E will help minimize scarring.”

“You know what else minimizes scarring? Not beating the crap out of me when I’m trying to help you!”

“Help me?” Vero snapped as she rose on her knees.

“I’ve seen you three times in three days, and I’ve got a concussion, a soup burn, and I probably need stitches! If I thought you had it in you to kill someone, I might actually be worried!”

Vero whirled to me. “Not one word!” she warned me as a dark laugh bubbled out of me. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?” she asked, turning her glare back on Javi.

“I’ve been waiting outside that bar for you all night.”

“How did you know I was at the bar?”

Javi pulled a phone from his pocket. His eyes bored into hers as he held it up and depressed a button. A faint ring started deep in Vero’s purse. The ringtone wasn’t Vero’s, and judging by the slightly murderous expression on Javi’s face, I was guessing he knew that, too. “Traced my stolen phone to the bar. You want to explain what it’s doing in your bag?”

I dropped my head to the steering wheel.

“Not exactly,” Vero answered. With a roll of her eyes, she fished his wallet and phone from her purse and dropped them in his outstretched hand. “You could have just come into the bar instead of running us down in your car like some kind of lunatic.”

He pulled a face. “You’re kidding, right? That place was crawling with cops. Figured I was better off waiting for the asshole who mugged me to come out. Didn’t figure half the FCPD would be walking you to your car.”

“I did not mug you, so don’t you even go accusing me of that! Finlay and I found you that way. And just because a guy holds a door open for me doesn’t give you the right to get all pissy about it.”

Javi settled back against the booster seat, the tension in the van abating as he lowered his voice. “If you found me that way, then why’d you take my stuff?”

“Why do you keep so many condoms in your wallet?”

“Who’s pissy now?”

Vero’s mouth snapped shut. She turned around in her seat. “We emptied your pockets on the way to the hospital in case the doctors needed to cut off your clothes.”

“For a concussion?”

“Happens all the time. If you watched Grey’s Anatomy, you’d know.”

Javi shook his head. “Are you going to tell me what really happened last night?”

“Do I have to?”

“You want me to ask Ramón?”

Sleet pinged off the car as Javi and Vero stared at each other.