Broken: South Side Boys-Book 2 Read online

“Just wanted to come back and see my folks. Nothing major to report, Becca, so you can tell your groupies to stand down.”

  “My groupies?” she says with a callous laugh. “Oh, Tori, I don’t know where you come up with this stuff.”

  “Oh, you know, that big-city humor is just rubbing off on me left and right. It’s kind of like a disease. But not the kind you probably have to get treated for.”

  I don’t know why I’m picking a fight with Becca when all I want to do is get my donuts and leave. But here I am, speaking before I think again.

  I need to add that to my to-do list while I’m here:

  1) Get over Kalum.

  2) Get mouth under control.

  3) Figure out life.

  Should be simple enough.

  “I really don’t know why you say such things to me,” Becca says, choosing not to hit back. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

  “Ha!” Oh my God, I literally can’t even with this woman. “You did nothing? We were inseparable until one day you decided you didn’t want to be my friend anymore. Then you proceeded to do everything you could to make my high school years a living hell. It’s not my fault puberty hit me before you. So I guess on behalf of my boobs, I’m sorry, Becca. After that, it’s all on you. Maybe one of these days you’ll get your head out of your ass and realize life isn’t out to get you.”

  I’m over this conversation, so I head to the counter to place my order. I need to get out of here quickly.

  And yes, that includes this shop and Smithville.

  I knew I’d see Becca sooner rather than later considering the size of this town is the equivalent of two blocks in Chicago. But I would’ve rather done it after a few days of decompressing, accompanied by a few homemade meals and a solid Netflix binge in my childhood bedroom.

  “I was jealous.”

  Shocked by her words, I can’t help but turn around. And for the first time since we were kids, I’m pretty sure I see regret on Becca’s face.

  “All right, fine, I’ll bite. What were you jealous of, Becca? Because for the life of me, I have no idea.”

  “Can we grab a table? I’d rather not do this in line with people watching.”

  I really don’t want to, but I feel like if I’m truly going to work on myself this week, then I should at least try to hear her out. The worst that can happen is I discover she’s still a bitch.

  Look at me being an adult about things. Scarlett and Annabelle would be so proud of me.

  “Did you ever start something, not meaning for it to spiral out of control, and then before you knew it, you didn’t know how to turn it back?”

  I take a seat and look at Becca, who actually appears sincere right now, so I’ll give her sincere back. “Yes, actually, I absolutely do. It feels like you’re caught in a tornado funnel and you can’t get out.”

  “Exactly,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “That summer, I felt like I was being left behind.”

  “Becca, you got mono, and puberty decided it was time to visit me. It wasn’t like it was my fault.”

  “I know that. Rationally, I do. But back then, all I knew was that I was under quarantine for two months, and you were calling to tell me about how you had to buy a bra and how Mikey Davis couldn’t figure out how to take it off. And during that time, I realized that my parents’ marriage wasn’t what they made it out to be. The fighting was nonstop, but they wouldn’t get divorced. I was so mad at everything, and then I got mad at you. And one thing led to another and I . . . well, I don’t need to go into everything else.”

  “You were a real bitch, Becca. And honestly? You kind of still are.”

  “I know. But I’m working on it. Or at least, I’m trying to,” she looks around for a minute, but I’m not about to start talking. I still can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation with her.

  “The reunion was really a smack in the face for me. It showed me what my life had become. Some days are harder than others, because I’ve been so closed off for so long—trying to control everything around me. But I’m making changes. Including divorcing Billy.”

  My jaw drops. “Seriously? What made you? I mean, I’m glad for you, because despite whatever has happened between us, he’s a fucking slimeball and I don’t wish him on my worst enemy. Which, until maybe about 10 minutes ago, was you.”

  She laughs, appreciating my subtle attempt at deflecting with humor.

  “I know that on the night of the reunion, he tried to hit on you. Unfortunately, you weren’t the first one he tried that with. Though you were the first one to tell him you’d have your boyfriend steal his car inventory.”

  We laugh. “How did you know? I didn’t think anyone heard us.”

  “One of my groupies—as you so eloquently refer to them—overheard him. And Tori, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but even when you’re whispering, you aren’t very quiet.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told that once or twice.”

  “It was the last straw,” she says, sitting up in her chair and gripping her coffee, needing something to hold on to. “I knew he wasn’t faithful to me, but he was always discreet about it. And I . . . well, I didn’t want everyone to know that I couldn’t satisfy my husband and he had to go get it somewhere else. So I pasted on a smile and pretended for years. But him doing it at the reunion, in front of our friends, my friends—I couldn’t do it anymore.”

  I place my hand on her wrist and give it a squeeze. She and I may have had our differences over the years, but no one deserves to have their partner cheat on them.

  I should know.

  “Fuck him, Becca. Fuck him and the used car he rode into town on. And that whole part about you not being able to satisfy him? Fuck that shit. You’re a beautiful woman any man would be lucky to be with. As long as, you know, you get that bitchy streak under control,” I tease.

  A chuckle escapes from her lips, and all of a sudden it’s like we’re 11 years old again, talking about boys in my walk-in closet because we needed privacy.

  “Thanks, Tori. And I’m sorry. For everything.”

  “Thank you. And while I’m not sorry that I got boobs first, or went to second base with Mikey Davis, I am sorry for the zit-popping video.”

  She smacks my arm. “I knew that was you! I always wondered how you did it.”

  “You really need to change your password. I hope it’s still not BTBFF4EVA.”

  44

  Kalum

  When Maverick asked me if I was worried about the rush of stealing cars earlier today, I really hadn’t thought about it.

  Then he parked a block away from the car.

  Then he synced up the car to his computer.

  Beep beep.

  And just like that, he had unlocked the door and I was walking to the Audi A4 like it was mine. As soon as I sat in it, Maverick had already started it remotely.

  Like taking candy from a baby.

  This is why The Kings wanted Maverick. We just snatched a near-impossible-to-steal car in less than a minute.

  And as I’m driving away in our first boost of the night, I can’t lie: the feeling is one you can’t replicate.

  But I can’t revel in it. I can’t let it get into my blood. I have a job to do and need to keep my head on straight.

  But fuck does this feel good.

  Snapping me out of my thoughts, a message comes through on my phone, and I know it’s the location of the drop. It’s about a half-hour away, on the other side of town, away from where The Kings normally do business. Smart on their end. And I can’t always say that about them.

  The text went to Maverick and me, considering he needs to get me before the next grab. And he’s the one coordinating with Amanda and the cops, since he can block any traces that might be on his phone.

  We aren’t taking any chances tonight.

  Before I know it, I’m pulling into an abandoned warehouse right off of Lake Michigan. There isn’t a soul around for miles, whi
ch makes it perfect for what The Kings need.

  But that will make it hard as hell for Amanda’s team to go in unnoticed.

  I get out of the car and take a look around, making sure the microscopic video camera that’s planted on my watch is getting plenty of footage.

  The entire warehouse is a car lover’s dream. Ferraris. Benzes. And I’m pretty sure if I’m seeing correctly, a Shelby Mustang, which much like Nicolas Cage in Gone in 60 Seconds, I’d give my left nut for. God, that car is amazing.

  “Liking what you see?” Big Al says, acting like a kid in a candy store. “If you play your cards right, one of these could be yours.”

  “Where’d they come from?”

  “Here and there. It took us a while though. Really would’ve helped having Mav around for these.”

  On cue, Maverick pulls into the garage, ready to get me for grab two.

  “There’s my ride,” I say, walking up to Maverick. “One down. Four to go.”

  Before I can get in the car, Big Al grabs my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

  “No funny business tonight, Kalum. Four more cars.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Big Al. You have my word.”

  The sound of sirens breaks through the air at a deafening volume. The lights are blinding and I have no idea how many cars come busting into the warehouse.

  “Federal agents! Hands in the air!”

  Because I don’t know what else to do, my hands go up, and by the looks of things, I’m as confused as anyone in here. They weren’t supposed to be here yet.

  Then I hear the first shot, and I know shit is about to hit the fan.

  I don’t know where it came from, but I see an agent go flying back as a bullet zips past me aimed toward The King who fired the first shot.

  This is what I was afraid of: getting caught in the crossfire.

  Then I do all I can think to do. Run.

  It might not be the brave thing to do, but fuck it, I’m not dying because of The Kings or the cops.

  “Weapons down!” is the last thing I hear as I jump into Maverick’s car.

  “Go! Get the fuck out of here!”

  “You’re reading my mind, brother.”

  Maverick steps on the gas, but as we go to pull away, we spin out. I’m guessing a bullet hit his tire.

  Fuck.

  We get low in our seats, knowing it’s not much, but it’s better than being even with the glass.

  “What the fuck, man? I thought they weren’t coming until after the second car?”

  “Don’t ask me. I’m just as shocked as you!”

  “I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.

  “Not your fault. Just like before.”

  “What are we going to do? Hide like a couple of pussies?”

  Maverick shakes his head, and reaches around for his computer.

  “Nah, I figured something like this would happen. I’ve got it covered.”

  And like out of a fucking James Bond movie, Maverick revs up the Audi we just stole, and starts driving it like he’s playing Grand Theft Auto.

  I’m watching on his monitor, stunned by what I’m seeing. He drives it toward Big Al, who dives behind another one of the stolen cars. He goes after another group, and they do the same. Maverick’s remote-control show is enough of a distraction for the cops to get the situation back under control.

  Holy fuck! What the hell did I just witness?

  With the sound of gunshots subsiding, we step out of the car and look at the carnage. Only a few bodies on the floor, but it doesn’t look like anyone is critical. Ambulance sounds get louder as Amanda and the rest of her team put Big Al and his guys in handcuffs.

  Including us.

  “What the fuck?” I ask just above a whisper. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “Yeah, well, none of this was, and Big Al needs to think you and Maverick are just as guilty as them for the time being. Play along.”

  Though I’m back in cuffs, being led to a cruiser with my brother next to me, I know everything is going to be okay.

  “What the fuck, Mandy? We’ve been here for hours. How long do we have to keep up this charade?”

  Considering those words came out of Maverick’s mouth, you know we’re over being in an interview room at the station.

  It’s been hours since we were brought in, and this is the first time we’ve seen Amanda. Hell, she’s the first person we’ve seen at all.

  “I’m sorry, guys. Needless to say, this didn’t go down like we’d planned.”

  “No shit,” I say, my frustration also at a peak level. “I thought it would happen after the second car? And preferably with us leaving the garage—not getting caught in the crossfire.”

  She sighs, knowing that things could have ended up a lot worse for us tonight.

  “That was the plan, and everything was on track. We got the location and were approaching when one of The Kings spotted us. Apparently, he was a wannabe, sent to keep an eye on things outside the warehouse. You didn’t see him because he was taking a piss when you pulled up, or so I’m guessing. We knew he’d run in and tell Big Al, and the whole night would be for nothing. It was now or never.”

  “With no regard for our safety, Amanda? That’s kind of fucked up,” I say, understanding her reasoning, but still pissed about how it went down.

  “I was hoping you guys would be pulling out when we got in, but someone had to shoot the shit with Big Al.”

  “Hey! That wasn’t my fault.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t, Mr. Drool-Over-the-Shelby? Remember you were wearing a camera, Kalum, so don’t try to lie your way out of this one.”

  Damn that Shelby. Who knew a Mustang could put me in so much danger?

  “So what’s next?” Maverick asks.

  “That’s it.”

  “That’s it?” I repeat, not comprehending. “Don’t I need to testify or sign a statement or, well, something?”

  She laughs, standing up to exit the interview room. “You will. But given the surveillance you’ve provided over the last few months, what happened tonight, and the fact that most of The Kings are flipping left and right on Big Al and his boss, this should be a pretty open-and-shut case. But for now, get out of here. Get some sleep. I’ll be in touch.”

  Amanda leaves the room, and as the door shuts, it hits me like a ton of bricks.

  It’s over.

  For the first time in five months, I can breathe again. I don’t feel a weight on my chest. And it feels amazing.

  And lonely. Because now that the weight is gone, I realize I feel empty—that there’s a huge hole inside my chest.

  “Go get her,” Maverick says.

  “What?” I’m not quite sure I heard him right.

  “Go to Wisconsin. Go get Tori. Be happy, Kalum. It’s about damn time you did something for yourself.”

  45

  Tori

  This trip back to Smithville has been . . . unexpected. Yes, that’s the word. Unexpected.

  My dad is doing great, his biggest problem being my mom hovering over him. I think the heart attack scared her more than him. Once she found out I snuck him a donut, she hasn’t left his side, monitoring everything he’s come into contact with.

  Becca and I have come to a friendly truce, which I’m pretty sure made front-page headlines. I’m not saying that 15 years of her being a bitch is forgiven, but we can now be in the same room with each other and even share a few laughs. We even went for coffee again after our impromptu meeting my first day back.

  But the most unexpected thing of all is how I feel. I feel better. Content. Like everything is going to be okay.

  Don’t get me wrong, my heart still hurts. After Becca and I called a truce, Kalum was the first person I wanted to call. But I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. Yes, I called Scarlett and told her all about it, but it just wasn’t the same.

  Each day though, it gets easier. I’m not as sad. And as the sun rises every morning, I realize that while coming back to Smithville w
as good for a recharge, my home is in Chicago, and that’s where I will feel whole. Complete.

  Even if being there will hurt from time to time.

  And I know it won’t hurt forever, because in the long run, I won’t be happy anywhere that’s not a block away from deep-dish pizza, my sister and nephew, and my friends. I would actually miss the coffee shop and the over-the-top bitches who come in asking for fancy-sounding drinks I think they made up. I’d miss Ben popping in on his lunch break to shoot the shit with me. I’d miss out on Annabelle planning her wedding. I’d miss little moments with Grant. I’d miss out on Scarlett one day getting the family she so desperately wants.

  And there’s no amount of hurt that will keep me from missing out on any of those things.

  So tomorrow I’m heading back to Chicago.

  It only took me five days to come to that conclusion.

  “Packing already?” my dad asks, leaning against the door of my childhood bedroom.

  “Yeah, I think it’s time I head back.”

  Dad walks into my room, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  “It’s been nice having you here. Who’s going to sneak me my donuts now?”

  I laugh. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.”

  We sit in comfortable silence as I pack my bags. I love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but it’s my dad who has always been my hero. We’ve just always had this connection I could never explain.

  “Did you figure out what you needed to?” he asks.

  “I did. I think. Well, not everything, but I doubt a month on an island would make a difference. But I know that I’m ready to go back to Chicago.”

  “So you’re over him?”

  I snap a look I’m sure conveys shock as he sits with a smug look on his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s only one thing in the world that makes someone come back to a town they aren’t huge fans of, looking like they haven’t slept in a month. Just because I’ve been married for 25 years doesn’t mean I don’t know what heartbreak looks like.”

  And here I thought I could go the whole trip home without having to talk about this.