The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

I scowled and stopped moving to the song. We should’ve taken my car instead. Convertible didn’t mean I didn’t have a roof at all. But nooo, he’d insisted we take his truck, in which you weren’t allowed to have fun.

Boone wasn’t done. He switched to muttering like an old man. “I clearly didn’t fuck you hard enough if you can bounce around like a coked-up toddler.”

Fucking rude. My ass hurt plenty. He should be happy for me that I’d found an angle that didn’t trigger my sphincter’s PTSD.

“You just love to suck the fun out of everything.” I closed my lips around my straw and drank from my milk shake.

“Ptcha.” He shrugged. “It worked with you.”

Hey. That was funny, but he wasn’t worth my laughter. Not when he’d put dance restrictions on Roxette’s “Joyride.”

“Be glad I let you bring a CD.” He lifted his binoculars and peered through them.

“Okay, commie.” I shoved some fries into my mouth, then followed suit. If he was gonna be boring, I might as well focus solely on work. “My binoculars are cooler than yours, by the way.” I looked through the scope and toward the end of the parking lot. They were still talking. Christ.

“The fuck they are,” Boone retorted.

I ignored his bullshit and focused on AJ.

I’d followed him on the iPad while Boone had taken us straight to a drive-thru for stakeout burgers and shakes, and then we’d stopped for a moment because AJ had driven around in a strange pattern, never stopping for more than a few seconds. Until here. When he’d pulled into one of the massive parking lots near Hard Rock, we’d been quick to come here too, though we were keeping our distance, parking in a spot right at the exit. With countless cars between us and under the cloak of darkness, no way were we on his radar.

But something was—or someone. Because the way he’d driven before coming here led me to believe he’d been trying to make sure no one was following him.

I chewed noisily on another handful of fries and watched AJ talk to his mystery friend. Whoever it was, we were gonna follow after they parted ways.

“Can you knock that off?” Boone growled and smacked my arm.

I grinned despite the life-threatening pain he’d inflicted. “I’m just expressing how much I love you.”

To my surprise, he didn’t answer.

Work sucked me in again, thankfully. I’d taken all the photos I needed, so I concentrated on coming up with theories. The man AJ was talking to wore a hoodie, indicating he wasn’t some fat cat living in a nice estate or penthouse. He drove an old F-150, and Boone would know more about that one.

“What generation do you think that Ford is?” I asked.

“I don’t think. I know it’s a ninth gen, introduced in ’92,” he replied. “Could be a ’95, but I’m not sure. Either way, it goes for around four grand.”

Made sense. So whoever AJ was meeting up with, we knew it was a low-man. An errand boy.

They were replaceable and, in my experience, not worth much, yet AJ had been talking to him for over twenty-five minutes now. Perhaps there were new instructions and orders given.

AJ was all business. Judging by his posture and mannerisms, he was a little paranoid too, though he hid it well. He’d looked around himself a few times, and he had impatience rolling off him. Checking his watch, shifting his weight, then straightening and squaring his shoulders, as if reminding himself not to show signs of weakness.

On the other hand, he couldn’t be too worried. He’d shown up in a nice suit, not in disguise, and he drove his own car, not a rental.

Black hair combed back. Features drawn tight. He came off steely yet uncomfortable. He’d inherited more attributes from his American father than his Korean mother.

Boone cleared his throat. “You mean you, uh…that you love me like a brother, right?”

What? Oh. Oh, so that’s where his mind had gone.

I kept my amusement to myself and noticed that AJ and his friend looked like they were wrapping things up. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” I answered. “Get ready to follow the Ford. I think they’re about to leave.” Lowering my binoculars again, I side-eyed my brother and sensed he wasn’t satisfied with my response. At this point, I wasn’t afraid to admit the depth of my feelings, but I didn’t think he was there yet.

As he stewed in silence and got ready to follow our target, I decided to give him a little something. After all, he’d been so forthcoming and genuine today, and I wanted to reassure him.

I skipped to track sixteen on the stereo and let the sweet notes of Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply” pour out of the speakers.

Don’t ever fucking tell me I wasn’t romantic.

Boone didn’t say anything, but it looked like he was warming up and trying to hide a little smile.

We followed the low-man to a cheap motel south of Winchester, coincidentally close to our third least favorite Denny’s in town. Man, they’d fucked up my food bad that one time we went there.

The roadside motel catered mostly to long-term residents and had a partially broken-down sign that boasted of their continental buffet, and I didn’t even know what that meant. Continental breakfast was toast and coffee, wasn’t it? And a buffet was a buffet.

“You think he’s in for the night?” Boone leaned forward and peered up toward the second and top floor of the motel.

“Probably.” I eyed the cars around me again. One looked like it could be a rental. The rest were shitty rust buckets.

“So what do you wanna do now?” he asked.

“I’m gonna send the information to Willow.” I pulled out my laptop from the bag at my feet and set it on my lap. “Maybe she can get access to the guests’ files—fuck if I know. But I don’t think we’ll learn