Nolan shielded his eyes from the searing light, and his mind started racing. He was trapped. No one would miss at this distance. But the gunman hadn’t fired yet.

  “This is my place of business. You can’t be here without a warrant.” If it was the sheriff’s men, they wouldn’t bother with a warrant, but he had to buy time to think.

  “Nolan?” called a familiar voice. The shotgun barrel sagged to the floor.

  “Sid?”

  The gunman flipped a switch, and an overhead light revealed a teenager of Latin descent. “Nolan, what are you doing here? The sheriff came by earlier. Tossed the place. No manches, bro. I figured you had skipped town by now.”

  Nolan processed things. Sid was a kid from the local high school. He had legal troubles in the past and was an orphan, like Nolan. He worked in the garage after school. “What are you doing here? It’s a school night.”

  “Playing GTA on your PlayStation,” Sid said sheepishly.

  Great. Just what he needs. Sid was a car boost from back East. Nolan got him placed in a home across town. He was supposed to mentor the kid and keep him out of trouble. “Wait, how did you get here?”

  “Look, Nolan. Those pigs could return at any time. You should get out of here.”

  “Sid, how did you get here? Did you steal Fredito’s truck?”

  “That scrap heap? No way. That heap sounds like a lawnmower when you start it.” Sid stopped himself and started biting his lower lip to keep from saying more.

  Nolan mentally reviewed what he had seen on the street when he arrived. He frowned when he recalled the Nissan parked on the street a block away. “Mr. Stone’s 370Z? Really?”

  Sid looked at his feet.

  “How did you get past the chip in the key fob?” Nolan’s tone was growing firm and parental.

  “I made a copy of it with your RFID cloner.”

  As if everything with Nikki, Gene, and Tara wasn’t enough now, he was failing as a pseudo parent. He sighed and stared at Sid until the boy looked up. “We are gonna talk about this more later.”

  Sid nodded.

  “For now, you need to give me my shotgun, return Mr. Stone’s car, and get in bed. I’m in some trouble, and I don’t have time to deal with this right now.”

  Sid’s reproachful look deepened, and he seemed to be chewing on some hard words. “I… I can help you.”

  Nolan knew what Sid meant, and it broke his heart. Sid’s uncles were deeply involved in violent gang activity. The same activity had claimed his father’s life. When Sid was only twelve he had driven stolen cars to rescue his uncles at his mother’s behest. After she was killed, Sid lost himself in that horrible life. Now, the seventeen-year-old kid was offering to step back into that life to help Nolan. No. He could never let Sid do that. Nolan had his hands full avoiding his own demons. If he let Sid fall back into that, he could never forgive himself.

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  “No. Shotgun. Car. School. Go.” Nolan held out a hand to take the proffered shotgun. “And thank you for not shooting me.”

  Sid nodded and slipped up the stairs to the garage bay. Knowing the kid, Sid had done more than show trigger discipline. He was likely watching the place in case intruders showed up. Nolan sighed again and thought of Tara’s admission that he would need to tap into those dormant skills if he wanted to get out of his situation alive. If a seventeen-year-old kid had gotten the drop on him, she may have a point.

  Nolan emerged from the hidden room with a large field bag full of weapons and gadgets, but no clues about what to do next. Sid pulled a square flashlight from a drawer and moved toward the rear exit. As Nolan stepped out of the stairwell, his eyes fell on the car in the corner under a dirty, old canvas cover. A lump formed in his throat and his heart pounded.

  Nolan had broken the spell his father’s old car had on him years ago. He kept it in the garage to remind him of what he had left behind. He had passed the car hundreds of times without a second thought. Now, given how he’d had several close brushes with that old life, the old car called to him.

  Sid saw the exchange between Nolan and the car and said, “I just aired up the tires the other day. Should be good to go.”

  Good to go? No. I can’t do that. Nolan shook his head.

  “If you take your truck, you’ll get picked up right away,” Sid offered.

  Sid was right. I can’t drive that car. I can’t. Even as he thought about it, he knew his resolve was eroding. He didn’t even know where he was going. But he did. He came here to arm himself for a trip up the mountain. The hair on his neck stood up at the thought. It was foolish. Klack Mountain was a living ghost story. He was a grown man. Well trained. What did he have to fear? He even entertained Sid’s offer to join him, but quickly shook that off. “Is the battery topped off?”

  Sid set the flashlight down and moved to a workbench. “Give me ten minutes.”

  Just like that, Nolan put another toe over the line he did not want to cross. The momentum of the half-conscious decision made his head spin. He put down his field bag and sat on a mechanic stool. He blew out a long breath as Sid pulled the dirty canvas car cover free. The flashlight danced along the glossy black paint of the sleek 1987 Grand National GNX and Nolan’s breath caught.