What if I hadn’t shown up at the right time? It was just dumb luck that I’d pulled into the parking lot and saw Eddie messing with her car.
The fucker could have killed her. For drug money. And the douchebag in the Camaro…what was his purpose? Bragging rights? Revenge for being made to look like a fool after the last time they raced?
Fucking hell. I scrubbed my hand over my face and winced. I’d forgotten about the bruises and the pretty black eye I was sporting. I unfolded the sheet of notepaper that was in my pocket and set it in front of Max.
“What’s this?” Max asked, reading the information I’d given him.
“I need a favor. I need you to shut down these street races. That’s the license plate of the guy who organizes them and keeps the books. The URL is for the chat room. The races are in Queens. They move around.”
“I’m not Vice. And Queens isn’t…why am I explaining this to you?” He pushed the paper aside and drank his coffee.
“Isn’t your cousin on the Vice Squad? And remind me again which precinct he’s in?”
Max scowled. He came from a long line of men in blue. His father had been a cop, his brother was a cop, two of his cousins, and probably a few uncles and grandparents I wasn’t aware of…all NYPD. In other words, he came from a closely-knit cop family and had never once questioned what his future would hold.
“I’d owe you.”
He exhaled loudly. “You got me out of bed for this? Because of a few punks street racing in Queens?” he asked incredulously.
Admittedly, I would have reacted the same way if the shoe was on the other foot. “There’s more to it than that.”
“This have something to do with your assignment?”
I shook my head. “No. It has to do with a girl.”
Max laughed. He was laughing so hard he was practically doubled over. I waited for him to pull himself together, regretting that I’d told him the truth.
“Are you shittin’ me?” My face said I wasn’t shitting him. “Who is she?”
“Keira Shaughnessy.” There I went again. Spewing honest answers.
“Keira Shaughnessy,” he repeated. He laughed again. “Holy shit. Only you could go UC and end up with Ronan Shaughnessy’s daughter.”
What could I say? Only me. Max knew about Keira. I had told him about her the first time we met.
“How’s she involved with this street racing?”
I told him the story of how I’d first seen her doing it in June and what had happened last night.
“Shit. Do you know who tampered with her car?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I took care of it.”
“You took care of it.” Max had this habit of repeating the last line. It was an investigative detective thing and I’d been known to do the same thing, another habit I’d had to break for this assignment. He held up his hands when my answer was not forthcoming. “Never mind. I don’t need to know. Just tell me…does he look worse than you?”
He looked a hell of a lot worse than me, and so did the other two guys, although I took no pride in my handiwork. It had felt like high school all over again.
“So, you went all vigilante on these guys and took the law into your own hands.” Max rubbed his index fingers together and tskked like the smart-ass he was. “Miss you, man.”
“You’d never know it. You’re not even wearing your friendship bracelet.”
“Got myself a new BFF. Rodriguez stepped up to the plate.”
“Sloppy seconds. I’ll be back soon to claim my title.”
“Competition is stiff. He buys more rounds than you.”
“He knows what a cheap bastard you are. So, you’ll take care of this for me?” It came out as a statement, not a question.
