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  The chime on the front door goes off and I glance up to see Jagger stroll outside. He's in his regular attire of jeans and a basic t-shirt, and it's like I'm fifteen all over again and the butterflies that have erupted in my stomach have flown south, awakening the pulse between my legs.

  His eyes wander over my body in what I'm sure is an innocent appraisal, and I stand up straighter, arching my back to stand more confidently under his watchful eye. When his beautifully distinctive eyes land on mine, the smoldering glare he gives me makes my nipples harden, my breasts heavy with lust. I rub my thighs together to stop the tingling sensation stirring below.

  How is he able to do this to me with just one look?

  He stands in front of Dougy so confidently. His arms crossed in front of his chest showcasing his lean biceps. He still smokes because there's a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He looks over at Dougy before looking back at me, but it's like he's looking right through me now, no longer letting the electricity between us get in the way.

  It's not fair. He gets me all wound up just by being here and looking at me the way he does, but then he turns it off, and I'm left having to deal with the state he's left my body in–taking care of it at home with my vibrator.

  "What's up, Thirty-D?" He's concentrating on Dougy now.

  "I've a–" Dougy looks over at me before continuing. "Ronnie, go wait in the truck while I talk to Jagger."

  Jagger's eyes flicker back and forth between us as he smirks, laughing under his breath. "Yeah... Ronnie..." He drags out the last syllable of my name. He's never used my real name before. He's always called me twinkle toes. "Listen to your man and go wait in the truck like a good little girl."

  The disdain in his voice is evident and his condescending words piss me off. I can feel the temperature inside me rising, and this time it's not from desire. I'm like a teapot about to blow my whistle. My hands clench in fists at my sides as I take a step forward, ready to confront him.

  Dougy steps in front of me, blocking my view of Jagger. "I said, get in the truck." His voice is low and demanding... and a little scary.

  I look up at him stunned, before turning around and storming over to the truck, ripping the passenger door open and climbing in before slamming the door behind me. I know I look like a child instead of the adult I've just recently become, but I don't care. Dougy just spoke to me like I was a child so I might as well act the part.

  The windows in the truck are rolled down so I can hear the conversation between the two of them escalate from whispering to shouting. Jagger is yelling and I swear I hear him say my name. I can't make out anything else he's saying from this far away but I can see him. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans into Dougy, continuing to rattle out in anger before pointing over in my direction. I sit completely still in the truck, hoping their little fight will end shortly.

  Their voices eventually taper down to the way normal people speak and I can no longer hear anything. Dougy's left hand digs into his front pocket and he hands a wad of cash over to Jagger.

  Holy shit.

  Jagger counts it briefly in front of him before shoving it in his back pocket, but he doesn't give Dougy anything in return. They give each other one of those one-armed man hugs and then Dougy's walking back over to the truck. Instead of focusing on him, I look back over to the building where Jagger is standing. He hasn't moved away from the front door. His eyes are focused intently on the truck... on me.

  I should look away, but I don't. Jagger just has something that's always drawn me to him and made him completely irresistible to me, even when I should be paying attention to my boyfriend. It's hypnotizing and I know it's not just a part of my imagination. He feels it, too.

  The truck begins to move and I'm jolted forward in my seat, breaking my trance and bringing my focus back to where I am and the person sitting next to me.

  "Hold on, Dougy. I'm not buckled in," I shout, sitting back in the worn cloth seats and fastening myself in. Once he hears the sound of the click he leans in to kiss me chastely on the lips and then we're moving again, the auto shop and Jagger in my rearview mirror.

  "What was that between you and Jagger?" I ask, wanting to know what their heated discussion was about.

  "What was what?" Dougy asks confused.

  "The two of you were yelling at each other and pointing over in my direction."

  "Oh, that. Jagger was just being a prick. He likes to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. He's always felt like he could say whatever he wants when it comes to you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean nothing, babe. Don't worry about it. You and I are none of Jagger's business and I told him that. He acts like he's looking out for you, but that's not his job. I've got your best interest at heart."

  They were fighting about me? I'm so confused.

  "And the money? What was that for?"

  He sighs deeply before answering. "That was just business. I owed him some money and paid my debt." Dougy's hand falls on my knee and gives it a squeeze. "Where to, babe? It's your big day so what would you like to do?"

  I'm staring at his calloused hand; rough from the hard work he does at the warehouse. Dougy likes to have his hands on me, he always has, but right now his touch feels wrong to me, foreign. I'm uncomfortable and every time the tips of his fingers move against me it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

  I'm willing him to move his hand off my body as I respond. "I just want to go home."

  Please take your hand off me.

  If I let him take me out tonight, if we go somewhere, he'll spend money on me and I can't let him do that. I finally feel ready enough to break up with him, I made the decision last night, but after seeing Jagger today it confirms everything I know. I'm being unfair to Dougy. Feeling my insides awaken just by being in Jagger's presence, it's not right to continue leading Dougy on. He's a good guy, most of the time, and he deserves a woman who will feel the same way about him as he feels about her.

  That woman is just not me.

  I could have maybe carried on with this charade for a little while longer, but after the way Dougy talked to me in front of Jagger–embarrassing me and causing Jagger to mock and make fun of our relationship–I have to end this relationship soon.

  Today.

  "That's lame, babe. What are we going to do at your place?" We stop at a red light and he looks over and smiles at me. "I can think of one thing to do, but that won't take all night."

  Normally I'd roll my eyes at him, or make a joke about already knowing he can't go all night, but my face stays stoic. I don’t want to lose focus on what I need to do tonight.

  "I think we should talk." I pause, swallowing deeply. "I think we should finally sit down and talk."

  By the end of the night I'm alone in my singlewide and no longer Dougy's girlfriend.

  Chapter Seven

  Jagger

  Two years later

  "Charlie!" I call out to my sister while walking into the doublewide trailer we share in our small town in Arizona. I've lived in this trailer my entire life but it looks completely different from what I lived in as a kid. Charlie has renovated the kitchen and living room, had the outside professionally landscaped, and repainted most of the rooms. The only place in this trailer she hasn't touched is my bedroom, but that's only because I won't let her.

  Tossing the mail onto the kitchen table I hold the one remaining envelope in my hand and wait to confront my sister. She's gotten out of control and I have to put an end to it today.

  I hear rustling in one of the back bedrooms before my sister huffs her way over to me. "What is it, Jagger? I just bought Mason new bedding and was in the middle of putting it on his bed so I could surprise him when he gets home from school."

  My sister can spend other people's money faster than they can make it. I wonder how much this trip to the store cost me? I'm already holding a twelve hundred dollar invoice in my hands.

  "Do you mind telling me what this is?" Taking the invoice
out of the envelope, I hand her the sheet of paper and her eyes scan over the bill.

  "This is for the exterior paint job that was done a few weeks ago. This company is amazing at what they do. They were able to take our ugly green siding and turn it into a masterpiece. Don't you love the new colors?"

  "I don't love it twelve hundred dollars worth." I drag a hand through my long brown hair. I'm dealing with a lot of shit right now and I can't be dealing with her spending problem as well. "Why didn't you just call Ky? He would have done it at cost."

  "I don't know why you're complaining, Jagger. It's not like you're broke. You have the money."

  My sister, with her jet-black pixie cut and pale skin, has always been a pain in the ass, but her and her son are the only family I have now and I love her. I never knew my mom, but her and my dad had three children together–my sisters, Richie and Charlie, and me. I was the baby of the family.

  Back then we probably sounded like a traditional family on paper, but when my mom died my dad started drinking. My sister, Richie, was a runaway, leaving the house when I was only five. We never heard from her again. My dad died several years later of liver and kidney failure, complications of his excessive drinking, and by then I was ten and Charlie was a pregnant teen.

  By the time she had Mason I was already working the streets and learning from the best on how to swindle some extra cash so we could eat and keep a roof over our heads. I stopped going to school, although I never really went anyway. My dad was supposed to homeschool me but most of the time he was too drunk to teach me anything. When he died my sister said I was already so far behind that if she registered me now it would raise red flags. I probably would have been taken away from her and put in foster care.

  "I know I have money, Charlie, but I won't if you keep spending it the way you do. Jesus! I promised I would always help take care of you and Mason and I've held true to my promise, but you've got to help me out here, too. I don't want to be hustling for the rest of my life. I'd like to save enough of a cushion where I can eventually get out of the game."

  "I know, Jag."

  "Do you? Because the way you spend my money I'll be working cons for the rest of my life."

  Charlie's still in her robe and pink fleece pajama pants. She plays with the belt of her robe while looking down at her feet like a child being scolded by their dad. The irony is she's six years older than me.

  "I'm really sorry, bro. I promise to stop spending. I'm grateful for all that you do for me and Mason and I never want you to think I'm taking advantage of you."

  "That's all I–" I'm startled by the front door to our trailer bursting open. Angelo struts in, looking around like he owns the place. I'm not even sure if he's welcome in my house after the way he's acted this past year.

  Angelo and I have been friends since we were kids. Over the years I've brought him in on a few of the opportunities that have presented themselves to me, mostly because he needed to help support his family, too. I've taught the man most of what he knows, but I forced him to work on his own. He needed to learn to be self-sufficient. Then last year we had a falling out after I worked a job he wanted and made sixty G's. He hasn't spoken to me since, well, until last week.

  The asshole asked me to meet him over at Damien's warehouse and I was cautious of it the entire drive over.

  I should have trusted my instincts; they've never stirred me wrong.

  Angelo had me meet him over at the warehouse because he now works for Damien Marino. They partnered up several months back and I've heard they do well.

  But I don't believe in partners.

  Those two morons called me over to Damien's warehouse, between a car dealership and medical supply store, because they needed me to pull off an impossible job for them. A job that was so crazy even I would never consider it. A job that would send me to jail for a long time or get me killed if I got away with it, which I wouldn't so that's a moot point.

  Angelo stands in the entryway of my trailer, looking around the room. His jet-black hair is slicked back. His skin is dark from the tanning beds he frequents and his bulky muscles burst out of his gray V-neck that is two sizes too small. He's wearing black dress pants and snakeskin shoes to complete the outfit. He looks like something that dropped out of the Jersey Shore.

  "What the fuck are you doing, Angelo? You can't just barge in here."

  "We need to talk."

  "The fuck we do. I said all I had to say to you last week."

  "I'm going to give the two of you some privacy," my sister interjects as she takes in the hostility between us. Turning around she walks to the rooms in the back of our trailer. She's been around for several of my business dealings so she knows the drill.

  "Did you have a chance to look over the file?"

  When I left the warehouse last week, Damien slipped me a manila folder to look over. I would have refused it but that would have meant staying there with them longer than I needed to be, so I took the file and got the hell out of there. What these men have planned is going to put them six feet under and I want to be as far away from them as possible so I don't accidentally get buried with them.

  "I looked it over, and you're even crazier than I fucking thought. Stealing from Matteo Esposito? You have a death wish." Matteo Esposito is the son and golden boy of Roman Esposito and Lala Manchini. Roman is one of this country's most feared mob bosses and Lala Manchini is a cartel princess. Stealing from Matteo Esposito means you'll have the mob and cartel on your ass.

  Angelo moves further into my home and instead of kicking him out, I walk into the kitchen and grab two beers out of the fridge. I toss him one and then sit down at the round table in the kitchen–another recent purchase of Charlie's–and Angelo sits down across from me.

  "It'll be a lot easier than you think, Jagger. We've already got all our ducks in a row and our contact inside the bank is on board. We just need you."

  I take a sip of my beer before responding. "And why do you need me so bad?"

  "Because you clean up real well. You'd look like a God damn model if you cut your hair and shaved regularly. The rest of us scream thugs and criminals, but you, Jagger, you're a chameleon. You've always been able to pull off any look and job that's been handed to you."

  There are reasons for that. I work best alone. Every time I've had to bring someone in on a job, it was always just one other person. I'm a firm believer on the fewer people who know your shit the better. This job already has too many hands in the cookie jar, which means too many ways it can be fucked up.

  "Sorry, man, but there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind on this. This is too big, even for me."

  Angelo leans back in his chair with one hand on his thigh and the other flipping the cap of his beer on the table. His eyes land on mine and we stare each other down, both of us trying to feel the other out, neither of us willing to break contact first.

  After an eternity Angelo breaks contact muttering, "Damien agreed to your terms. We'll do five instead of two and split it fifty-fifty."

  Well... shit.

  I did not see that coming.

  "When did Damien agree to that?" I ask skeptically.

  "This morning."

  When Damien and Angelo approached me last week with their plan to steal from the Esposito family, they wanted to take two million and split it eighty-twenty, in their favor. There was no way I was doing this job, being the one whose ass was on the line doing all the heavy lifting, and getting that little of the profit.

  But...

  Upping it to five million and splitting it in half just might make me reconsider. So that's what I told them when we were in Damien's warehouse in Phoenix, and they shut me down immediately. I walked away never thinking Damien would change his mind.

  Only a week later and I broke him. I can't help but feel a little victorious.

  If I do this, if I actually try to pull off what could possibly be the stupidest thing I ever do, I'll be two and a half million dollars richer. I'll a
lso have the Esposito organization and possibly the Manchini cartel after me, and a giant target on my back, but in all my years of doing this I've never been caught. Angelo is probably right; I am the only one who could pull this off.

  My nephew Mason could go to college, Charlie could get a place of her own, and I'll be set for the rest of my life.

  It's funny how money can mask pure stupidity.

  "So many things could go wrong," I say trying to convince myself just as much as I'm trying to convince him. Am I really considering doing this?

  "Like what?"

  "Do you really want me to list them, Angelo, because we'll be here all day?"

  "Do you need me to remind you how easy it'll all go down? Because I will. I told you we already have our in. I've been screwing the assistant manager at the bank for months now. This has been thoroughly thought and planned out. Cheyenne is in love with me. She's going to help us. She's not going to let me go down for this."

  "Cheyenne? See, this is the first and biggest problem. Too many people know about the damn job. I don't like it, Angelo. It only takes one guilty conscious to get all our ass's thrown in jail."

  Taking a swig of my beer I stand up from the table and walk over to the sink to look out the bay window. The trailers in this worn down trailer park are dirty and falling apart. Although my grass is green because of the money Charlie throws at our landscapers, the patches of grass in everyone else's yards are brown, matching the surrounding patches of desert and dirt. Kids are playing on the road and a group of them, who can't be older than eleven or twelve, are over by the street sign smoking.

  I grab the loose cigarette from behind my ear and light up, taking a drag and inhaling the nicotine that keeps me sane day in and day out. I was about their age when I started this bad habit. Now I can't imagine ever quitting. I want better for Mason. He's going to be a teenager soon and I want him out of this place before it can bring him down like it did me.