Let’s Make a Deal (Deadly Deal #1)

Chapter 1

JACK

The first thing I see when I pull my motorcycle into my driveway is the big-ass moving van next door.

I blink. Maybe I’m hallucinating, or my hangover hasn’t cleared up yet. Staying at the club last night was a last-minute decision, after the idea of sitting in an empty house again made my skin crawl. With all the noise going on around me now, I’m glad I did.

I stare at the truck, wondering how the hell such a massive thing can exist. How does someone have so much shit to require the Godzilla of all moving vans? Then again, if I bought a four-story house, I’d make sure I had shit to put in it too.

It’s a shame someone bought it. I appreciated the privacy while it lasted.

I really hope the newcomers won’t complain about my motorcycles and the occasional party.

I don’t throw them often, but the lady gabbing to the movers has a haircut that screams she is a Karen, and based on her tone, I recon she’d chew my ear off if I made so much as a peep.

Greeeeeat.

I kill the engine and grab a beer from the garage fridge.

I spend a lot of time alone. I’ve learned to watch people—you can learn a lot about someone by observing their habits and quirks.

I sit out on my porch to scope out the noobs.

The guy—the Karen’s husband, I assume—wears an expensive-looking suit as he paces the driveway, phone crushing his ear.

Next come two teenagers, a boy and a girl.

They appear the same age, but that’s where their similarities end.

He is tall, athletic-looking, with bright blond hair.

She is small, pretty for a teenage girl, and has long light golden-brown hair.

Nothing like her brother’s. Or her mom’s, for that matter. A blended family, perhaps?

The lady says something to the girl, her face hard and clearly annoyed. The girl’s shoulders drop, and the kid laughs and shoves her.

Something inside me snaps. What in the actual fuck? What boy thinks he can push a girl?

I’m standing before I can think about what I’m doing, and all three of them stare at me as I head their way.

The lady shoots me a seductive grin that I do not return.

She has Barbie-blonde hair, expensive-looking clothes, and a flawless face.

Not the kind of flawless you admire—the kind that looks paid for.

She shouts orders at the movers, directing them with her perfectly manicured fingers.

The teenage boy follows the young girl into the house before I can exchange some choice words with him.

Finally, the man ends his call, gives a wave, and heads over.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy.” He waves the Karen over too. “This is my wife, Shannon. We have two children, Austin and Jessi.”

The Karen cuts in. “Austin is my son, and Jessi is Jeremy’s. You ride motorcycles? How fun!” She bats her way-too-dark and thick spider-leg eyelashes at me, right in front of her husband, who doesn’t seem to notice.

I guess I won’t have to worry about her complaining about my bike.

I shake Jeremy’s hand and then the Karen’s. She holds it a few seconds too long.

“Nice to meet you,” I lie. “I’m Jack. Yes, I ride and work on motorcycles. I hope that doesn’t bother you. Let me know if it does.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t,” she replies.

Jeremy eyes her. Has he caught onto her flirty tone? “Well, great to meet you, Jack. We’d better get back to unpacking.”

I tip my beer to them in goodbye and subtly shake my head while retracing my steps to my house.

What the hell was that? I fear my extra-friendly new neighbor is going to be quite interesting and annoying.

I decide to head to my back patio for a little privacy. But as I round the house, I look up and see the girl through an upstairs window—what was her name? Oh yeah, Jessi.

She doesn’t see me, but I watch her while she picks through a box.

Alarm bells sound in my mind, thinking back to how her brother treated her.

She looks so sad. I want to ask her if she’s okay.

Why the long face? Was it what Shannon said, the shove from that dickhead, or does she not want to be here?

I grunt and keep walking. Why the hell do I care?

It’s not like I’m going to do anything. It’s none of my business.

I down the rest of my beer, vowing to keep an eye on that Austin kid. I don’t like anyone who doesn’t think twice about throwing a woman around. If I catch it happening again, I will have no choice but to step in. To keep the peace between neighbors and all that, or so I tell myself.