to request a ride, I reach the door just as the mechanic guy does. He holds it open for me with a polite smile.

“Hey, now. You better not be taking my ride,” he jokes, holding up his phone to show the same app.

“I make no promises.” I laugh as I’m matched with a driver. I tap on the screen, then nod to where my car is parked on the curb. “Now that’s a model you don’t see every day.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, his gaze amused as he taps on his phone before tucking it in his pocket. “Not in this part of LA anyway. The guys at the shop have been coming up with names for it all week.” He shrugs, appearing a little embarrassed. “Sorry, that’s a thing car people do, which sounds incredibly weird when I say it aloud.”

“You happen to be in good company. I always name my cars. And that one, she looks like an Iron Maiden.”

His brows rise. “Oh yeah? Interesting choice. I like it. She’s kinda a beast.”

I nod to the logo stitched onto the breast pocket of his shirt. “You made the repairs?”

“Oh, nah. My uncle owns the shop.”

“What other names did this LeSabre acquire?”

“Um, let’s see. There’s Flo, as in Flo Rida. Rustee. Farrah, as in Fawcett. The others I won’t repeat in the company of a woman.”

“I appreciate your decorum.” I rock back on my heels, and check the status of my ride. Only a few minutes away. “So, you make a lot of drop offs?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised this is the delivery address. Mostly, I’m driving Maseratis and Camaros in this zip. But to each their own. I’m gonna tell the guys at the shop about the Iron Maiden suggestion; they’ll get a kick out of that.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah, usually we don’t come up with so many names, but then again, most cars are off the lot as soon as they’re repaired. That one has been at the lot all week, so we got extra creative.”

Wait, what? “The LeSabre was already repaired? For a week?” I swallow back the urge to raise my voice. “You’re positive it was this LeSabre?”

He laughs. “Uh, yeah. We don’t get many of them. I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure it was repaired? That it wasn’t waiting for a part or something?”

“Oh, I’m positive. It’s been done since Tuesday. My uncle said the guy who hired him to fix it said he’d pay him extra to keep it until today. Rich people.” He shrugs and lifts his gaze to the Prius rolling up the drive. “I think this is me.” He digs into his pocket. “Hey, I know this is probably out of the blue, but here’s my card. I’m Ryan, and that’s the number to the shop. If you ever want to grab drinks sometime, or even need a car repair. Give me a call.” He hands me the card.

I take it numbly, feeling off kilter and stunned.

Iron Maiden was sitting in a repair shop, completely repaired, since Tuesday. Why would—? My gut churns at the thought of Jude paying extra to keep my car from me. It paints our entire week in another light. Was this all a game to him? Was he manipulating me to get what he wanted? Am I just another acquisition?

Hurt morphs to anger, and I turn around, marching back into the condo’s lobby. “Excuse me.”

The security guard meets my gaze. “Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“I’m a guest of Mr. Lawrence. I’ve been staying with him this week.”

“Yes, Mr. Lawrence informed us.” Good. That’ll make this easier.

“He had my LeSabre delivered. It’s sitting outside, and I need to grab the keys now.”

“Oh.” The guard’s smile dims. “I was not informed of that plan.”

“It’s my car. You can check the registration in the console. I’ll show you my driver’s license too.” I steady my voice so it doesn’t waver with emotion. “I need it to get to work, and Mr. Lawrence is feeling a little under the weather. He’s still sleeping and I’d rather you don’t disturb him.”

The guard doesn’t move. Fuck. I’m gonna have to pull out all the stops. With more attitude than I feel at the moment, I put my hand on my hip and lift my brows. “He did tell you it was being delivered today, yes? And that it was my vehicle?” I’m officially a sassy California asshole.

“He did.” His gaze flicks down to his desk a few times, as if weighing his reply. He scoops up the set of keys on the counter. “I guess we can go take a look at the registration. As long as it matches, I don’t see why you can’t take the keys.”

Thank God. Because I can’t imagine confronting Jude right now. Not without losing my mind, or melting down. He lied to me. He deceived me. My nostrils sting and my chin wobbles as I think of what he’s hidden from me. Betrayal follows me around like a ghost I can’t shake. Jude was going to be different. I trusted him. I gave him my heart. He played me for a fool. Just like every man I’ve ever slept with. Shame on me.

45

Jude

I roll over, my muscles and body tight from overuse, my mind halfway between sleep and wakefulness. I reach for the beautiful minx responsible for my fantastic night of rest. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve slept so deeply and so soundly in years. But there’s no body next to mine, and as I sit up, rubbing my eyes and adjusting to the dark room, I realize Rachel is gone.

“Rachel?” I call out. Then pat the covers where she should be. Cold. She’s been up for a while. Fuck. What time is it? I flip on the light at my bedside table and reach for my phone. It’s still early, but she’ll be leaving for work soon. Damn. I really did sleep like the dead. We won’t have time for a quickie. If my morning wood could talk,

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