Polished

The face in the reflection couldn’t be me. So pale, with deep shadows under my big blue eyes, lips almost the same shade. My damn hair, a golden shade that had my brothers calling me ‘pretty boy’ reached the collar of my faded blue T-shirt. I was a pathetic mess.

And my situation wasn’t getting better any time soon.

“Do it, Alec! Hurry up!”

Pressing my eyes shut, I inhaled sharply and smashed in the reflective window of the 1966 Chevelle LS3. The car was a beauty, modified with black windows that had to be illegal, its gleaming red paint job glowing even in the dim lighting of the parking garage. Too bad the owner was an idiot. Who left a car like this sitting around, with no alarm, in downtown Dallas?

You were asking for this, pal.

I stepped aside so my oldest brother, Erik, could climb in and hotwire the car. Christian, the second oldest, headed around to claim shotgun.

They stole cars all the time, so they looked completely relaxed, but I couldn’t stop shaking and searching the garage for any sign of security. No way were we gonna get away with this. I was gonna end up with the same criminal record every male in my family earned by the time they sprouted their first facial hair. Fine, I was a late bloomer, but when I’d hit nineteen and managed to stay out of trouble, I should have seen it coming.

And then I saw him coming.

His skin was so dark, I couldn’t make him out at first, but as he started running towards us there was no missing how freakin’ huge he was. The black suit didn’t hide his impressive build. And the dim light didn’t conceal the rage hardening his features as he cut across the parking deck.

“Hey! Get the fuck away from that car!”

Christian’s hand rammed into the center of my chest and I fell back, hitting the pavement hard. A sharp, burning pain spread over my palms, but I hardly felt it as I stared at the closed door. Then watched the car speed away.

They’d left me behind. Left me to take the fall.

A firm grip on my arm dragged me to my feet. The big black man’s huge hand wrapped around my wrist like a shackle as he glared at me, his brown eyes dark with rage.

“Who are they, boy?” He shook me hard when my lips parted, but not a word came out. “Come on, they abandoned you. If you tell me, I’ll put in a good word for you with the cops.”

Bowing my shoulders, I pressed my tongue into my bottom lip. Should I just tell him? I didn’t owe them anything. The only reason I’d agreed to steal the car in the first place was because I was fucking starving. And I’d run out of alleys to sleep in. All the good places had been cleared out by the police. If I could just find a real place, with an address to put on applications, maybe I could get off the street and build myself a life.

But I’d spent the last three years struggling to find enough to eat and steer clear of my brothers. Desperation led to me going back home.

And ended with me in this wonderful predicament.

“They’re my brothers.” I twisted my wrist, suddenly needing to get free. “Look, Mister, I won’t rat them out. They might have screwed me over, but they’re still family. And if they find out, they’ll kill me. Just…just turn me in.”

Prison might not be too bad. Erik and Christian had survived it a few times. I’d get food anyway. And a bed to sleep in. Damn luxury compared to what I’d had to look forward to before.

The money would’ve changed everything. You would’ve had enough to get an apartment. Maybe even get the hell out of Dallas and start fresh somewhere new.

Assuming they’d had any intention of giving me a cent.

I’d known the risks. Considered them for days as we scoped out the car, which was here every night until around midnight. I’d known it was wrong, but I did it anyway.

So I deserved to pay for my crime.

The big guy sighed and shook his head. “Come on.”

I nodded and let him lead me to the elevator at the far side of the garage. They all went up to the new high rises erected over the last few years. The lower levels were full of expensive cars, owned by executives of the fashion and media corporations that filled the high rises, but this level was for the underlings. During the day cheap cars surrounded the beautiful classic. There was no security, no cameras. Almost as though the Cheville was here just to tempt someone to take it.

Giving in to temptation has a price.