Chapter 18
W hen Brock had approached the door to Josie’s small, worn-down house with peeling paint, he heard arguing inside. Heard every word. Didn’t understand it all, but it sounded like Josie was in major financial trouble.
The guy with her must be the cheating ex. Where was her dad and the Shelby? Which one had taken his car?
Brock assumed his involvement would mess up the investigation into the stolen car.
He didn’t care. Once he ensured Josie’s safety, he’d work out the rest. If she stole from him, he’d walk away.
If not, he’d get answers. He needed answers.
There weren’t enough Mustangs on the planet for him to work on while the questions ate away at him.
He knocked again.
More shouting from inside about answering the door.
“Josie,” he called.
Abrupt silence.
Crashes sounded from inside and Brock tugged at the handle. The door was locked. He evaluated the old wooden door. It was solid and sturdy.
“Brock!” At Josie’s muffled shout, he pushed the screen open wide and stepped back.
More scuffles sounded and with grim determination he cocked his knee and kicked at the doorknob. The door shook and groaned, but held firm. Brock’s hope lay in shattering the doorjamb.
Another kick, and another, and the door vibrated open, raining down splinters from the frame. Long cracks rent through the door.
A tall man with wide eyes and a look Brock could guess was panic restrained Josie.
Brock braced himself for her reaction. Would she panic like her ex? Was he still her ex? Had he really been her ex?
Her lips were pulled back in fury, hair falling over her face, and she struggled hard. The man’s fingers dug into her biceps. She tried to slam her heel onto the bridge of her captor’s foot, but he managed to dance his feet out of the way.
“Get the fuck out,” the man snarled.
Brock closed the distance between them, but before he reached her, Josie abruptly changed her fight tactics and flung her head back. The top caught the man’s jaw. He released her and stumbled back. Bending over, he covered his bleeding mouth and cussed a storm.
She jumped into Brock’s arms. He staggered back, more from shock than her slight weight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I had no idea they’d take it. Please believe me.”
He blinked at the sensory assault of her pleading words and Gage’s furious cries of pain. Brock snaked his arms around her waist. The weight of her warm body tucked into his soothed him.
The man dropped his hand. “You broke in here. Get out.”
Brock kept his gaze on Josie’s flushed cheeks. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she said and glared over her shoulder. “Gage and Bill—my dad—planned to take the car to Detroit, but it’s still in town.”
Blood ran down Gage’s chin. He must’ve bitten his lip when Josie head butted him. He stabbed a finger at them. “You stay out of it.”
Josie spun around, but stayed pressed close to Brock.
“It’s over, Gage. Brock knows who stole his car.
I’m going to tell the police everything.
You and Bill are going to have to deal with your own mess.
If you guys care so little about my welfare, I refuse to care about yours.
” She turned back. “Can you get me out of here? I just need to grab a few things before we go get your car. I understand if you don’t want me staying with you, but I need to leave. ”
Brock’s brain reeled over the assault of information and the accusations being flung around.
“Good luck finding it,” Gage scoffed. “Bill has the keys to my truck, so good luck taking it.”
In Brock’s arms, Josie shook with rage. He glanced between her and the ex.
Gage stalked toward them and Josie pressed into Brock like she was trying to get away from him.
She was scared of this man. That thought ranked higher than any other in Brock’s mind.
He settled Josie behind him and steadied his breathing.
His cousins had run interference for him his entire life, but he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
And thanks to his cousins and their childhood rowdiness, he knew how.
Gage raised his fist to slam it into his face. Brock ducked and punched Gage in the stomach so hard the man’s breath whooshed out and he dropped to his knees. Brock nailed him in the face. Gage’s head flung backward and he tumbled to the floor, knocked out.
“Holy shit,” Josie darted around Brock. “I’ve been dreaming of doing exactly that to the arrogant bastard.”
She knelt down and rested her fingers against Gage’s neck. “Let me make sure he’ll live before I grab my things.” She paused with her head cocked like she could hear the blood pumping. “Yep, the idiot’s alive. Good enough. Be right back.” She sprinted out of the room.
Silence descended but adrenaline still laced his veins. He adjusted his hat and paced the room. Gage groaned but he ignored him.
Josie appeared with her duffel and computer bag. She rushed back to Gage and dug a phone out of his pocket. Brock waited as she scrolled through.
“Camille. Of course.” She dropped the phone on Gage’s back and crossed to the cockeyed front door. “I don’t know where they hid they the trailer, but judging by his call log, I can guess who does. We have to hurry before Bill leaves with it.”
Brock was right behind her. He’d come determined to get answers, and to make sure Josie was okay. She appeared unfazed, but he was as lost as ever. For now, all he could do was follow her lead.
They got into his truck.
She directed him to a newer section of Waite Park. In front of a small, tidy ranch house was a green truck with an attached covered trailer.
Josie stabbed her fist in the air. “Yes! I knew it.”
He hadn’t yet pulled to a stop before Josie slipped out, leaving the door open behind her. She ran to the hitch and unhooked it. Brock swung the pickup around and backed up alongside of the green pickup.
Between both of them, they managed to push back the trailer enough to link it to Brock’s hitch. They hooked it up with few words between them.
“What the fuck are you doing with Gage’s truck?” a shrill voice hollered.
Brock’s head jerked up. A petite blonde stormed across the yard wearing athletic clothes that showed more than they covered.
Josie straightened. Brock finished hooking up the electronics.
“Camilla,” Josie’s words were steady, “the trailer belongs to the garage and the car inside doesn’t belong to Gage or Bill.” She jabbed her thumb toward him. “It’s his.”
Brock finished his task and rose. His tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
The woman arched a brow and her gaze floated over him head to toe. She switched her focus to Josie. “And I’m supposed to believe you? Gage told me he bought a classic car to restore.”
“Why don’t you go to my place and give Gage some TLC.” Josie tipped her head in Brock’s direction. “Brock gave him a helluva headache.”
Camilla advanced, her features livid. “What’d you do? Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine. His head is hard. But I’m sure the cops will check him over after I call them and tell them all about the theft.”
Josie caught his gaze and jerked her head toward his truck. She rushed to the passenger side of the pickup and he took the hint.
They both hopped in with Camilla’s high-pitched shrieking echoing in the evening.
Brock maneuvered his way out of town. He had no wish to stay and hated not hauling his own trailer.
Could Josie’s dad accuse him of stealing the trailer?
He dug out his phone.
“What are you doing?” It the first Josie had spoken since they’d hit the road.
“Calling Max.”
When the deputy answered, Brock filled him in on the events of the night.
“Holy shit, Walker,” Max breathed. “All right. I’ll…you say the trailer belongs to her father’s work place, which is also her place of work?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a weak case and he’s in enough legal trouble as it is since your car’s inside of it. Just…shit…just have a safe trip back and call me when you get here.”
Brock hung up and tucked his phone away. Out of the corner of his eye, Josie was staring at him, but he kept driving.
“Are you going to talk to me?” she asked.
“About what?” Emotions bubbled through him, zinging under his skin so fast he couldn’t identify them.
He squeezed his hands around the wheel because they threatened to shake. His throat worked as he tried to swallow a perpetual lump.
“Are you angry?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” His mouth was dry; he needed water.
“Scared?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk.”
“Okay,” she said in barely a whisper. “Thank you for rescuing me, though.”
He stomped on the brake and jerked the wheel to the side of the highway. The trailer fishtailed slightly and he calmed himself enough to ease to a stop.
He peeled his hands off the wheel to turn the hazards on. “Did you really need rescuing?”
Because from what he witnessed…he didn’t know. She was in her house, with her ex-boyfriend, and they were arguing over answering the door.
Had she been there all along? With Gage? Where had her father been? Why hadn’t she answered her phone?
Josie folded her hands on her lap. “Gage saw me in Moore, with you, and told my dad. But only because it worked better for him. Then Bill would be forced to move quickly on the car and lose a lot of the profit. Or fail completely and have to sign over his business.”
“You scoped out my Mustangs, manipulated Mr. Blackwell to sell to me, and then your dad and your ex took the Shelby.”
Her eyes shined with unshed tears. “I know how it looks, Brock.”
“It looked like you’d been hanging out with your ex-boyfriend for days and not answering your phone.”
“They took it away from me. Bill paid for everything. He cut the internet and kept my phone and made Gage stay with me until he could sell your car.” Her voice cracked and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Why didn’t you just leave?” Brock wanted to believe her, but her actions pointed to deception, and Lord knows, he couldn’t untangle intrigue on a good day.