Chapter 17 Shyanne #2
Christian’s hand went rigid, his fingers curling around mine and squeezing tight, gripping me as if his life depended on me holding onto him. His eyes grew wide and manic.
“He…” Christian forced the words from his mouth, obviously struggling to stay calm. “He wants my baby sister dead?” He clenched his teeth together, lips peeling back in seething anger. “That motherfucker.”
He tried to pull his hand away, but I tightened my grip, knowing he’d want to rush from the restaurant and throw our plan to shit.
“Sit still,” I hissed, keeping a gracious and flirty smile on my face.
Hell, I deserved an Oscar for this performance.
“Stay calm, Christian. You can’t let anyone know that you know.
They might not be watching you right now, but we can’t risk it.
If they think you are aware of what they’re planning, they’ll kill Jackson’s sister. ”
That brought him under control. Somewhat.
His hand relaxed a bit, and he took a steadying breath.
The guy had better emotional control than I’d anticipated.
He stared down at the table for several long seconds before looking up, the smile once again on his face, but his eyes looked haunted.
With a trembling hand, he took his fork and picked up a bit of tuna and popped it into his mouth.
The sheer force of will it must have taken to continue acting like he was on a date must have been tremendous.
“What do we do?” Christian finally said.
“We’ve got a plan, that we think will work,” I said, “but we—”
“Here we are,” the waiter said, sweeping back to our table with a plate in each hand. He put the dishes down before us, asked if we needed anything, and when we said we didn’t, he departed again.
When we were alone once more, I went on to tell Christian exactly what we had planned and what we needed from him.
While I spoke, we went about eating, but the further I got into the plan, the slower Christian ate, until he’d stopped altogether, and simply stared at me in wonder.
When I was finished, he stared at his two-hundred-dollar steak in shock.
Finally, he looked up at me, “Do you really think this will work?”
“It has to,” I said. “Jackson and I both think it’s the only way. We’re bound and determined to make this work.”
Something passed across his face, some emotion I couldn’t pinpoint. Shaking his head faintly, he said, “Why are you doing this? Why is a human helping us?”
“What do you mean?” The question made no sense to me. Why wouldn’t I help?
“It’s just…” he trailed off, glancing around the restaurant before leaning in close again.
“Most humans don’t know about us. We all believe that most people would be terrified of us, disgusted by us, or hate us for being different.
” He gave another shake of his head. “I don’t think you’re that type, but…
I wonder why a human would get involved in something so dangerous for people you just met. ”
“It’s the right thing to do,” I said with a shrug.
“I’ve spent my whole life in the care of a man who could have easily walked away, but he didn’t.
He took me in and cared for me when he didn’t need to.
It’s almost like I’ve been waiting for this moment, for a way to pay the universe back for giving me such a good person.
Jackson’s sister needs my help, and now so does yours. ”
Christian’s face softened, a smile—this one real—spread across his lips. “I like that,” he said. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re what Jackson has been looking for as well.”
That sent a rush of pleasure through my chest. I liked to think the same thing, but hadn’t been sure if that was only wishful thinking.
In the short time I’d known him, I’d come to really like Jackson.
I wasn’t sure how far things might go with us, especially with how up in the air things were.
From the way things looked, we might all be dead after we implemented this plan.
“Thanks,” I said, stuffing a bite of steak into my mouth.
“You guys really think the drakes will fall for this?” Christian said after our plates had been cleared.
“No way to know,” I admitted. “All we can do is try to make sure we have this planned and implemented perfectly. Then? It’s up to luck.”
“Fair enough.” He sighed. “I’m honestly not in the mood for dessert. Are we good to end this? I think we played it off like a real date, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I need to get home anyway. I’ll let Jackson know how things went here. You and I will communicate on the dating app. Don’t message anything to Jackson that’s not normal friend stuff, okay? We don’t know if Anitoli has some way of tracking what you’re sending on your phone.”
“Got it,” he said as the waiter returned with the check.
“Let me split that,” I said, pulling out my clutch.
“Nope,” Christian said, holding up a hand. “You’re helping save my sister and Jackson’s. This is on me.”
The next day, I had to run several errands to prepare for the upcoming plan, or operation, or whatever the hell we were calling it.
By the time I got to the garage, it was already past lunchtime, but I knew the guys were fine without me.
Walking in from the parking lot, I noticed two bicycles sitting beside the front door of the shop—one a girl’s bike, the other a boy’s.
The only people I could imagine them belonging to were Mariposa and Mikey Diego.
The kid was always showing up, trying to get us to let him help on the cars.
He was a year or two older than Mariposa and lived on the same street, but unlike her, he wasn’t doing virtual school.
I glanced at my watch. It was only a few minutes after one o’clock. He was supposed to be in school. Grumbling in irritation, I stepped through the door to the garage.
“Oh shit! Boss is here,” Reggie called. “Everyone back to work. Hurry.”
“Very funny, jackass,” I said. “Where the hell is Mikey?”
Reggie’s smile faltered, and instead of looking like the cocky goofball he always did, he looked more like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Ah, damn, Shyanne, I told him it was fine,” he said.
“You stepped in it now, Reg,” Carlo said while cranking a torque wrench.
“Said what was fine?” I asked, my irritation beginning to climb to full-blown anger.
“If he wanted to hang out with Mariposa and Jackson.”
That brought me up short, my scowl vanishing as I glanced around the shop.
“Jackson? Where the heck are they?” I asked.
He pointed to the back of the shop. “In your office the last time I saw them. Mariposa showed up a few minutes after Jackson got here, and Mikey was right on her heels.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, turning to the office.
The kid was constantly skipping school to hang out here.
I’d told him multiple times that he needed to keep his grades up and eventually graduate if he ever wanted to work in my shop.
Preferably, I wanted him to go to a trade school or something.
He didn’t have the best home life, and I was pretty sure his parents didn’t care what he did, but I did.
He lived in the same neighborhood, and I’d spent my whole life trying to make the place better.
What better place to start than with the kids?
Rounding the corner, I got a view into the office and paused, nearly stumbling over my feet as I saw what was happening inside.
“The hell?” I whispered to myself.
Jackson stood at the marker board, which I used to write down the weekly supply and parts order. He had a dry erase marker in his hand and was drawing math symbols on the board. Mikey and Mariposa both sat on the floor, staring up at him in rapt silence.
“So when you have this girl in your book,” Jackson was saying. “I think Carrie was her name. It says she went on a bike ride with friends, and she went ten thousand five hundred feet in ten minutes.” He wrote the number on the board. “It asks how fast she’s going in feet per minute.”
“Right,” Mikey said, pointing at the board. “You can’t figure that out.”
“Yeah,” Mariposa muttered. “It’s impossible.”
“Yes, you can,” Jackson said patiently, smiling at the kids. “It’s not impossible. Let me show you.”
I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms and watching in wonder as he wrote out and explained how to find the solution.
“Speed is equal to distance divided by time,” he said. “It’s all about understanding what the question is asking.”
“Wait…what?” Mikey asked, looking dumbfounded. “That’s all it is?”
Mariposa lifted her hand, looking up from her calculator. “She was going one-thousand-fifty feet per minute.”
“You got it,” Jackson said, pointing at her with the marker and smiling like a proud father. “She was moving pretty fast, right?”
“Dang,” Mikey said, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “Ms. Johnson never explained it like that when I took her class last year. Mr. Jackson, you should be a teacher.”
“And you should be at school with real teachers,” I said, finally stepping into the room.
Mikey and Mariposa both jumped in surprise. Mikey looked guilty and didn’t meet my eyes. I glared down at him, arms still crossed.
“What did I say about skipping school?” I said.
“Not to do it,” Mikey mumbled, fiddling with his shoelaces.
“So why are you here?” I asked.
He gave me a shrug and nothing else.
“Hey, bud?” Jackson said.
Mikey turned his head toward the man. “Yeah?”
“Do you know how I got so smart? I went to school. I went all the way to college, if you can believe that.”
Mikey’s face twisted in distaste. “Aw, man, I don’t wanna do school that long. I can drop out when I’m sixteen—my mom and dad said so.”
My stomach lurched in anger. It was fine to not give a shit about yourself, but how the hell did you let your own kid think the best way to get through life was to quit?
Jackson walked over and knelt beside the thirteen-year-old.
“Do I look like a guy you’d like to be one day?”