Lennox (3 page)

I shove my hands into my back pockets, unsure what to say.
I
missed you?
That’s the first thing that pops into my head,
but I sure as shit can’t say that.
I can’t believe you
hurt us like this?
Lennox busies himself fiddling with the
engine, the filters, everything else, but I can tell by the glint of
his eyes that he keeps looking over at me. It thrills me far more
than it should.

“So, um . . . What seems to be the problem?”
I ask. “Aside from the fact that you’re driving this
commuter piece of shit.”

He laughs, bitter. “Yeah, well. Just got out of the pen. No
one’s exactly gonna let me lease a Viper.”

Right. I swallow, hard, and approach the hood. “Mind if I take
a look?”

Lennox takes a step back. He’s moving oddly—like he’s
a wild animal I’ve cornered. Like he hasn’t yet decided
if I’m a predator or prey. “Be my guest.”

I pop the pen light on my keychain and poke around, checking out the
pitiful machinery before me. Weak-ass engine, molding tubing, filters
due for a change, crusted oil valve . . . None of it
Lennox’s fault, I know, but it breaks my heart all the same.
The Lennox of three years ago would have been appalled at the state
of this car. Most likely he forked over a couple hundred in cash for
it as-is, but knowing him, he’s got big dreams of fixing it up
to make it last.

I’m not sure it’s worth the effort.

“Huh.” I prop my pen light under my chin and carefully
peel back some still-hot tubing. I’m acutely aware of his
presence over my shoulder, the warmth he seems to give off in the
crisp evening air.

He smells of hot oil and sandalwood, same as he always did. I blush
again, remembering the time fifteen-year-old Elena once bought the
shampoo he used, and woke up every morning pressing her nose against
her pillow now that it smelled like him. God. I had it so bad for
him, way back when. And now, surrounded by that smell again, it feels
all too easy for me to slip back into those feelings.

“Ah-ha. It’s your timing belt. Look—it’s
about to go.” I gesture toward the bit of rubber about to tear
clean through. “I can patch it up for you enough to get you
home, but you’ll need to replace it first thing tomorrow.”

“Home.” Lennox shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,
okay. Thanks, El.”

“Lemme go get my kit and patch you up.” I dig my toolkit
out of the Camaro, clip a work lamp to the hood of his Camry, and get
to work. It’s not easy—the rubber on his belt has
fermented, threatening to crack apart any second—but it should
be enough to get him through one more day.

I can’t help myself—I start noticing all the other things
that are wrong with Lennox’s junker. Loose, rusted screws near
the engine casing, exposed wiring . . . God, he’d
spend thousands trying to get this piece of crap in good working
condition. He’d be better off just buying something new that
wouldn’t leave him stranded on the ridge line. But I know it’s
not in the cards for him right now. Not with a rap sheet like his.

He killed someone
, I remind myself, as I feel my pity for him
start to seep into my thoughts.
Not just anyone. Nash’s
brother.
It makes my stomach churn. But stranded on the side of
the road like this, I can’t help feeling bad for Lennox. For
the big-hearted man I once knew and loved. What happened to that man?
How do I reconcile that memory of him with the murderer standing
before me?

I wrestle with one of the screws, trying to tighten up his engine
casing, but can’t seem to hold it in place. I wipe a stray lock
of hair out of my face, almost certainly smudging my cheek with oil,
and lean back in.

“Here. Let me help you with that.”

“I’ve got it,” I snap.

Lennox grins. “I know you do. But please—at least let me
do something.”

Lennox leans around me and fiddles with the screw. He holds while I
tighten. My arm brushes up against his ribs, those hard notches of
lean muscle and bone, and again I feel my face heating up. Get a
grip, Elena.

“There.” I straighten up and step back a little too
quickly. I don’t like the way he’s throwing me off-guard,
like I’m a teenager all over again and nothing bad ever went
down. He’s a killer and a traitor to the club. No one gets to
come back from a colossal fuckup like that.

“Thanks.” Lennox shoves his hands in his pockets and
hunches forward. Maybe it’s just the headlights, but his eyes
look so deep, so sad. I force myself to look away.

“So, uh . . .” I keep my back to him while
I put away my tools. “Are you, uh . . . staying
with Amber now?”

Amber Cartwright was Lennox’s longtime girlfriend. They had
their ups and downs—one down in particular—but they
always seemed to work it out in the end, much to dumb teenage Elena’s
dismay. Amber knew better than to come around the crew after Troy’s
death, though. Hell, she was in the car with them both that awful
night.

She could have told Lennox no. That he was too drunk to drive. But
that’s not Amber’s style. She wanted to go home, and
didn’t care who was fit to drive her.

Lennox laughs, a bitter, rattling sound. I wince. “Yeah.
Right.” He toes at the gravel. “Amber can’t wait
thirty minutes for a pizza. You really thought she was gonna wait
three years for me?”

My shoulders stiffen. I snap my tool case shut and yank my work light
off the Camry’s hood. “I—I’m sorry. I guess I
should have known.”

“Not your fault,” Lennox says.

But it is my fault. Lennox is just too polite to point it out. At
least prison hasn’t beaten that out of him. It breaks my heart
all over again.

I turn back toward him and meet those hard brown eyes. “I guess
I always thought you guys were the real deal,” I say. “Yeah,
Amber’s a diva, but your love always seemed . . .
stronger.”

“Yeah, well, prison showed me I’m not nearly as strong as
I think.” Lennox shrugs with his whole body, lithe and fluid.
“It’s fine. Life moves on, right?”

“You were always strong to me.” The words are out before
I can stop them. I just can’t line up the powerful, easygoing,
passionate Lennox I knew and loved with this hardened man before me.

Lennox looks at me sideways. “Elena . . .
Please. You don’t have to . . .”

“No. I do.” And all at once, everything I’ve wanted
to say to him all these years comes bubbling up. I’m angry he
left. I’m wounded. And I can’t keep it all inside a
moment more. “You always told me to stay true to myself. My
beliefs. You were my hero. How could you do that to Troy? Life
doesn’t move on for Troy.” My voice is trembling. “What
happened to you?”

“I’m not your hero,” Lennox growls. “You
should’ve learned that three years ago.”

But the anger’s burning in me still. I have to leave before I
say more things I’ll regret. I blink back tears and sling my
toolbox over my shoulder.

“Elena. Hey. Wait.”

I toss my gear in the Camaro’s back, take a deep breath, and
look back at him.

His shoulders are drawn forward, cowed. There’s still that hard
glint in his eyes as he squints against my headlights, but he looks
beaten down. He looks like the Lennox who used to stand up to Uncle
Drazic. He’d fight and fight to change the crew’s future,
to get them out of their dirty business, and he would lose, every
time. But it never shook his loyalty. He always stuck with the crew.

Maybe he’s no hero now, but there’s still a hint of the
old Lennox inside of him.

“You turned out all right,” Lennox says. “Gorgeous,
clever, and strong for yourself. Stay true to that, okay? Don’t
be strong for the crew—be strong for yourself.”

“Is that what you did?” I ask. “You looked out for
your number one?”

Lennox shakes his head, running his tongue over his teeth. “Not
even close.”

I slide into the driver’s seat of the Camaro and put it into
reverse. “I hope things look up for you, Lennox. Really, I do.”

The sad smile he gives me as I pull away stings. It stings all the
way back to Drazic’s house.

Something isn’t adding up, and like a broken-down muscle car,
I’m determined to fix it up.

Lennox

It fucking figures that Elena was one of the first people I ran into
after getting out of the pen. Of all the people I don’t want
seeing me like this, she’s right at the top. Granted, the
sweet, tender, shy, precocious Elena I remembered is a world away
from the gorgeous, steady bombshell who bent over my piece of shit
Camry and made all my engine troubles go away with the wave of her
hand. She’s got confidence now and she’s grown into
herself, but she’s still the same Elena—the Elena I left.
The Elena I hurt. I’ve let her down. Betrayed her. Even more
than all the rest.

Well, I’m finally free, and ready to get my life together. I
won’t pretend I can ever claw my way back to the top of that
pedestal she always placed me on—if I ever deserved it—but
I’ll be damned if I won’t die trying.

I glance up at the front door of AJ’s Parts and Service,
gleaming in the harsh midday sun, offer up a prayer to any deities
who care to listen, and climb out of the Camry.

I don’t make it two steps into the door before AJ catches sight
of me. “Oh, no. Oh, hell no, man.” He’s short and
stocky, but AJ Rodriguez moves fast. He was the kicker on our high
school football team, and he possesses all the athletic instincts and
batshit weirdness that came with the job. “You can’t come
in here, man. Hell no.”

“The fuck are you talking about? There’s no one in here.
Besides, I’m a paying customer. I need a new timing belt.”

AJ cocks one eyebrow at me. “Paying?” he asks, dubious.

I wince. Yeah, he knows me too well. “Okay, well . . .
I’ll pay you as soon as I’m able. Seriously. You know I’m
good for it.”

“The Lennox Solt I used to know was always good for it.”
AJ looks me over. “This guy . . . I don’t
know.”

My shoulders slump. “It’s still me, man. Seriously.”

“Yeah? Then how’re you gonna pay?” AJ crosses his
arms.

I give him my best winning smile. It’s a bit ragged around the
edges from disuse, but I’ve got to try. “By working for
you, of course.”

AJ groans and turns down the brake fluid aisle. “I
knew
it. Dammit, Lennox. I can’t deal with this shit.”

“You can’t? Come on. You know me. How many times did I
save your lunch money from Brad and Marshawn? And I got you a date
with Tiffany Chang for prom . . .”

“Yeah, because she was Amber’s best friend.” AJ
stops and turns around. His mouth is twisted to one side, and he’s
wearing the same suspicious look he used to reserve for dipshits like
Brad and Marshawn. “You have to understand, Lennox. This isn’t
even about me and you. It’s about my business. I can’t
just hire you because I feel like it.”

“It’s your business,” I say. “Why not?”

He exhales loudly. “I know Ridgecrest used to be a big city,
but it’s a small town at heart. People talk around here.
Constantly. And I’m afraid you don’t have any fans left.
Not after . . . what you did.”

My body goes rigid. Every punch I took in prison, every night I spent
listening for movements in the dark . . . none of them
ache like this. It was one thing to sit with what I’d done
while I was locked away. But it’s another to come back to the
real world and see that what happened didn’t just change me.

It changed everyone I cared about. AJ, Nash, Drazic . . .
Elena.

“It wasn’t—it’s not like you think.”
This is dangerous territory, and I know it. But I’m so sick of
the suspicion, the hurt. The look in Elena’s eyes last night.
Like I was something wild. Someone who might hurt her, too.

“No?” AJ sighs. “Then what was it? Because it
looked like the smartest guy I know got too cocky and fucked up,
big-time.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out my breath. “And now everyone
can’t wait to see what I do for an encore.”

“No. Everyone can’t wait for you to disappear again. So
next time you fuck up, none of us have to pay the price.”

I run my finger down a bottle of transmission fuel. Fourteen
ninety-nine. Five years ago I could’ve forked it over without a
second thought. Now it feels like pulling out a tooth. I guess me and
my shitty Camry are limping home on empty.

“You’re right, AJ.” I turn on my heel. “I’ll
see you around.”

“Lennox . . .”

I pause, my hands resting on the front door.

“Come by after five,” AJ says. “I’ll get you
that timing belt you need.” He swallows. “It’s the
least I can do.”

*

I pull away from AJ’s Parts and Service and start aimlessly
scanning the highway, unsure where else to look for work. Between
enforced background checks and the Ridgecrest gossip mill, I’m
running low on options. Dishwashing at Peg’s Diner, maybe. A
job at the junkyard, if I didn’t think Cyrus would knock me on
my ass the moment he saw me.

I rub at the stubble on my jaw while I wait for the traffic lights
to turn. Dishwashing, sorting through scraps . . .
none of that’s going to impress Elena. Not that that should be
my goal. But there were far too many nights in prison where the only
things that kept me going were the memories I clung to of Elena. Of
the promise I’d made to her. Hell, though, I don’t know
what I was expecting. She’s all grown up now, a real self-made
woman, and I’m just a fucking beaten-down loser with too many
scars. She’s probably got a long line of hearts to break.
Hearts far more deserving than mine.

I’ve got contacts. That’s about the only thing you leave
prison with that might do you any good. Every guy on the inside knows
some guy on the outside who pulls jobs somewhere downstate . . .
But I’m not sure I want to rely on those just yet. Especially
not after the look I saw in Elena’s eyes. Like I really was a
monster who’d deserved what he’d gotten and then some.
Like I’ll never be anything more than a murderer and a crook to
her.