My heart again eased.

Then I looked forward and asked, "Why do men have reason to be scared of Julius?"

"He jacks cars for a living."

My head swiveled back to look at him. "What?"

"He jacks cars for a living. Don't know much about his business but, according to him, there's turf wars. You wanna be successful, you gotta learn how to take care of yourself, protect your territory." He glanced at me then back at the road. "He's an inch taller than me and twenty pounds heavier. Man sees that and that man knows Julius knows how to use his fists and body, smart thing for any of them to do is be cautious. Smart thing for any of them who fuck him is be scared and run. Smartest thing is not to fuck him."

I looked back at the road. "Sounds like a good friend to have."

"He was. He took my back, I took his."

"How does he know Shift?"

"He's from Texas. Something happened, things got hot there, he moved his business to LA. Better trade for him there anyway. Took his family with him, he's a family man, sister got hooked up with an asshole. Julius took care of him and is doin' his time. It isn't his favorite thing to do but he didn't complain. Worth it to him. His sense of justice is whacked. His sense of loyalty isn't. I found the amount of loyalty he's got balances out the other."

"So are you going to keep in touch with him?" I asked.

"Never lose touch with Julius," he answered. "Sucks how we forged our bond but we did it and, you got a bond like that, you don't lose it."

"You liked him," I noted quietly.

"We were in prison, Lex, and he took my back. He's six foot seven and weighs two hundred thirty pounds. That's a good man to be at your back. But that place, it's populated but in there, you are alone, very alone. That is, you're alone unless you got a brother. We became brothers. We played ball together. We worked out together. We ate together. Honest to God, wasn't for him, probably woulda lost my mind."

My heart didn't feel easy anymore. My heart squeezed.

"Ty," I whispered.

"No fuckin' with you, bein' in there and why I was, it wasn't for Julius keepin' me sane, I woulda lost my mind."

"You don't have to talk about this," I told him.

"Yeah, I do, baby, I don't, I'd lose my mind. Learned that and how I did was from Julius."

My head turned to him and I saw his arm straight, fingers curled around the wheel, muscles bunched with tension.

"It's over now," I reminded him softly.

"Yeah," he agreed and those muscles stayed bunched.

"You're going to a garden center," I pointed out. "Free to drive your kickass car on a Sunday to a garden center. It's over."

"Yeah," he repeated with no release of those muscles.

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his bicep, saying gently, "It would suck, you bent that steering wheel into a U."

He took in breath and when he let it out, his elbow bent and the tension went out of his arm.

I slid my hand away and faced front again.

"You've had a wild life," I remarked.

"Grow up with crazy, folks screamin' at each other all the time, Dad fall down drunk every other night and at twelve you think bologna is gourmet, you get free, you live wild."

"Bologna?"

"Yeah, big score, me and Ike got bologna."

"Ike?"

"Isaiah, my brother."

"And your full name?"

"Tyrell. No middle for either of us. Mom and Dad had used up their creativity coming up with first names. Lucky we got 'em."

I sighed. Then I muttered, "Bologna."

"Bologna," he repeated.

"For me, it was corned beef hash. Granddad got the gumption to put together some corned beef hash, I was in seventh heaven. Usually, he forgot I needed sustenance to survive and I made myself PB and J's. He also forgot to teach me the importance of dental hygiene so a diet of PB and J's led to me having seven cavities by the time I was ten. I'm not a fan of the dentist but I am a fan of dental hygiene, just, unfortunately, hit the game late."

"Corned beef hash is better than bologna," Ty remarked.

"Yeah, but as far as I can see, you have perfect teeth."

And he did, all white, strong, even. His teeth were as beautiful as the rest of him.

"Least those two gave me something," he muttered and a giggle erupted out of me.

"Yeah, count your lucky stars, honey," I advised.

"I am," he returned and his voice was soft, those two words had meaning and I knew what that meaning was.

I knew what it was.

I knew.

And what it was was proof Lady Luck was feeling generous.

And I knew then I was not going to fuck this up and piss her off.

No way.

I was right. A kickass Viper did not go to the garden center.

This was because, outside Chantelle, there was a Toyota dealership. And Ty slowed before the entry of that dealership, muttering, "Quick stop, baby."

I didn't care if we made a quick stop. He was calling me baby again. His lips were twitching. I'd even heard him chuckle. And he was sharing. I'd take a quick stop in hell to keep all that.

We were gliding through the lot when a man with light brown hair wearing an ill-fitting pair of slacks and sports jacket saw us, his face split into a huge smile and he ran, actually ran to where Ty parked the Viper.

Ty barely cleared his door and I was only folding out when the man was on him, shaking his hand, grinning like a lunatic, head tilted back looking at Ty like he was a top-paid professional athlete on a mission and there to clear out the lot of all their high end models.

"Ty, fuck, Ty. Ty! I heard you were out. Fuck! Good to see you, man," he said, pumping Ty's hand "Stan, yo," Ty replied, pulled his hand free, moved out of the door of the car, forcing Stan out too and he turned and looked at me over the roof. "My wife, Lexie, Lex, this is Stan."

"Hey, Stan," I called, slamming my door but Stan was staring at me, mouth open.

Then he swung his open-mouthed stare to Ty.

"Buddy, you're married?" He looked at me then back at Ty and spoke again before Ty could answer. "To a hot chick?"

"Not gonna marry butt ugly, Stan," Ty muttered and I pressed my lips together as I moved around the back of the Viper toward them.

"All right, to a super hot chick," Stan slightly amended.

"Yeah," Ty replied as I made it to his side and his arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me into him. "Lucked out."

Lucked out.

Yeah. I'd take a quick stop to hell to keep this. I'd even stay for a cup of coffee.

"You could score but, holy fuck, she's like a white Jennifer Lopez," Stan observed.

"I think I look like Jessica Alba," I joked because I did not.

He looked me up and down and then nodded. "I see it but that ass, all Lopez."

"Stan, you mind not talkin' about my wife's ass to my wife or, say, at all?" Ty asked in a way that Stan could only give him one answer.

And he did, on a mutter, "Yeah, Ty, sorry."

Then Ty asked, "Here to see what kinda deal you can swing me on a Cruiser."

That was when I went still.

A Cruiser? As in, a Land Cruiser? What was he doing? We were going to the garden center to buy plants not drop tens of thousands of dollars on an SUV.

"You know I'll take care of you, Ty."

"Yeah, I do. That's why I'm here. Get the keys to one, dark gray or black. Upgrade."

"All over it," Stan said on another maniacal grin then he ran to the building.

I curled into Ty.

"Uh, honey lumpkins," I called, his head tipped down to look at me and when it did, his mouth was twitching again. "Looking into purchasing an SUV is not exactly a quick stop."

"Okay, not-so-quick stop," he revised very belatedly.

"Right, so, can I ask why you're looking into purchasing an SUV at all?"

I asked this and his forehead wrinkled. He was perplexed. It seemed not to occur to him that he already had a car. I also had a car. He had a job as a mechanic, had sworn off poker games and he had a score to settle. I wasn't sure how an expensive SUV fit into all of that.

"Lex, we're in Colorado."

"Mm-hmm," I agreed unnecessarily.

"It snows here."

Oh. That's how it fit in.

He went on, "You don't drive the Snake in snow. You drive a Cruiser in snow. Part of the reason I sat that game in Vegas was to set myself up when I got home. I'm settin' myself up."

"Right," I whispered.

"I had a Cruiser before, had to sell it to finance my defense."

I felt my heart skip a beat at this unpleasant bit of history.

He kept talking. "Won't be summer forever and you're thinking deck plants, we need a utility vehicle."

Again, this made sense. And his sudden and far from unwelcome domesticity made my heart beat faster. And he had four hundred and fifty thousand dollars somewhere. And a job. And, clearly, a history of getting cool things in one way or another. And he was a grown man, he wanted an SUV, who was I to say differently?

But I needed a rewind.

"You had to sell your other Land Cruiser to finance your defense?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have to sell anything else?" I asked.

"Coupla cars I won the pinks on, few other toys. Things got cheaper when I copped a plea."

My heart skipped another beat and my body went solid.

"You copped a plea?"

"Yeah. I copped a plea."

I pressed closer to him and put a hand on his chest. "Why, when you were innocent, did you cop a plea?"

"'Cause I had no alibi, my fingerprints were found at the scene and a bunch of assholes made statements and lied about my whereabouts. They wanted second degree and were muttering about bein' aggressive and goin' for first. That nightmare ended, I had things to do and I wanted to do them so I wanted out in five, not fifteen and definitely not fuckin' twenty-five."

My sunglasses looked into his sunglasses.