I hung up and placed my phone in my pocket. I got this. I grabbed my keys and left. * I parked my car three houses away from Mr. Motorcycle's place. Not too close, just in case someone in the neighborhood got suspicious. Not too far, just in case I needed to make a run for it. The screen dashboard in my car indicated seven p.m. It was dark now. The streetlights were on, good folks tucked away in their lit-up houses, probably having a homecooked dinner, or relaxing in their overpriced, comfortable beds. Which I should be doing. Instead, I was here on a mission to save my brother's ass. I grabbed my thick hair—it was too long, and I needed to give it a trim—twisted and squished it under a cap. Should've brought my shades to be more incognito, I thought as I slid out of my car. Mr. Motorcycle's house wasn't that far from ours after all. Someone might recognize me. I shivered. Must be the cool night air, I decided as I zipped my jacket close. It was absolutely not because I was nervous. Or excited. Nope. Normal people stalk all the time. It was a legit pastime. I always do it on social media. Correction. Not stalk. Research. I was here to do research. I was just going to look around, see if the motorcycle was in the driveway. Maybe it wasn't as bad as Dylan suspected. What if the owner came back while I was sneaking around? I stopped in my tracks. Maybe I should bring the flyers I had in the car. If Mr. Motorcycle caught me around his house, I could simply hand him a flyer and say I was distributing it around the neighborhood. Genius. Giving out flyers at seven-shit-oh-clock at night is genius? Really. I shushed the bitchy voice in my head and spun around back to my car to fetch the flyers. Mr. Motorcycle's house looked like a modern bachelor pad. Tall privacy glass windows, sharp angles, lots of concrete. It seemed like a spare house for a drug lord's youngest son. Not too big, but luxurious and expensive. If my hunch was true, Dylan was going to be in an enormous pit of trouble. And it wouldn't be just him in that pit. It'd be him, me, and my dad. There was a long wide driveway that led to the garage. On the driveway was a sleek BMW, but no sign of a motorcycle. Why was his car on the driveway and not in the garage? Maybe there was more than one person living in the house. That would make it a little more complicated, but nothing my investigative skills couldn't handle. A high five-foot wide fence with a wooden door—an entrance to what I assumed was the backyard was connected to the side of the garage. There were no lights in the house except for the soft glow of the porchlight. No one was home. I imagined an evil grin on my face, rubbing my hands in glee at this golden opportunity. I cracked my knuckles. My body is ready. Maybe I should whistle casually. Overkill much? Swallowing the nervousness down, I walked closer. There were no trees or bushes I could jump in to hide. My eyes scanned for any cameras attached to the exterior of his house. In the darkness, it was hard to see every nook and cranny, but I was 97.9% sure there weren't any. My heart started to beat madly as I studied the fence, looked behind me to check if I was still alone. Everything was spookily quiet, except for my loud breathing and the occasional scratching sound my shoes made against the concrete as I stopped in front of the fence. I laid my palm carefully on the door, pushed gently. It was locked. Damnit. It was too high to see on top of it and there were no gaps between the wood posts to peek through. There should be something in the front yard I could use to step on so I could see what was behind the fence, but he didn't care to put anything but grass. My eyes shot to Big Tony's house. He still owed us money and I was coming back soon to collect. I marched quickly to his front yard, unapologetically grabbed one of the black stones jutting out on the soil and went back in front of Mr. Motorcycle's fence. There, I thought, dusting my hands off after positioning the rock. I stepped on it, looking down to make sure it didn't wobble. When I looked up, my jaw dropped. La-dee-freaking-da. A huge pool sat empty in the backyard—probably didn't bother filling it because it was too cold to swim outdoors now—but the blue lights on its walls were on and some fancy garden ones, casting an eerie glow around the yard. Mature trees, beautiful stonework. I loved a good landscaping, and this was top-class. I almost forgot my mission. The motorcycle. Again, there was no sign of it. Should I climb the fence and see if he had another door behind the garage? Maybe it was open, and I could sneak inside quickly. But... what if he had a dog? Focus. If there was a dog, it would be barking by now. Gathering my powers, I laid my hands flat on top of the fence. I was going to lift myself up, hook one leg on top when I heard a noise behind me. Every hair on my body rose. Holy shit, I'm going to prison tonight. "Who are you?" A very deep, very male, very cold voice said behind me. I peed a little. Run! But my limbs were frozen. Legs weak, I let gravity take over and lower me on the ground, tripping when my foot missed the stone. I squealed, grabbing the fence to maintain my balance. All the jostling loosened my hat, spilling my hair on my back. I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. Silence. "Who are you?" he repeated. There was still suspicion in his tone, but this time, there was also... curiosity. And that curiosity killed the cat. Slowly, painfully, I turned around. And I realized... I was the cat. I knew he could see me. Where I was grateful for the porchlight earlier, now I hated it. It illuminated my face in all its glory to him. He, however, was surrounded in darkness. I couldn't see his face, but I could make out his shape. He was tall, his shoulders wide, and muscular. There was something awfully familiar in the way he leaned against the car. As if I met him before. Suddenly I had this urgent need for him to reveal his face in the light. At the same time, I dreaded it. Do I know him? He stepped forward. I backed away until I bumped against the fence behind me. I was gripped by the moment. I wanted to look away, but I was transfixed. "What are you doing here?" he asked. This time, his voice was like velvet. Teasing. An uneasy feeling took over me. I heard his voice before. "Tell me," he said. Tell me. Why was that so familiar? And then... he stepped into the light.