Roger leaves the room. My mouth hangs open in shock.
âAsshole,â Nick mutters.
Another thing we agree on. âEpic understatement.â
I slide next to Mat and reread Rogerâs list. Maybe we can handle the Super Bee, the Camaro, at least one of the Corvettes. The Coronet is possible with the right tools. But the Aston Martin and the Shelby? Those cars arenât rareâtheyâre mythical.
Mat flops down in Rogerâs chair and kicks his legs up onto the coffee table. âGuys, weâre not seriously considering this, right?â When no one replies, his jaw drops. âYouâre all loco .â
Nick grunts.
I lean against the fireplace and tuck my hands behind my back. The stone is warm, somehow soothing. I know what the right thing to do here isâpack our bags, turn Roger in, suffer the consequences.
âThereâs got to be more to this.â I chew on the inside of my cheek. âMaybe we can find some kind of leverage.â
Chelsea raises one perfectly plucked brow. âHeâs already offered eternal life supportâwhat more do we want?â
âMoney.â
All eyes land on me.
âLook, nothing is guaranteed. Paperwork means squat. Even if we can boost these cars, Roger might still send us out on our asses. And then what?â I revert back to familiar logic, my basic needs. âCash would provide some stability.â
âI donât think that means what you think it means,â Mat says.
Chelsea leans forward. âHow much are we talking?â
I hadnât gotten there yet. âTen grand?â
âNot enough.â She leans back and folds her arms across her chest. âI need a paid pass into Harvard.â
My head spins so fast I get whiplash. âCome again?â
I donât mean to sound skeptical, but I can tell by Chelseaâs expression itâs too late. Sheâs pissed. âWhen I left, my parents took everything away from meâmy trust fund, my inheritance. I graduate next year with no hope of affording college.â
âScholarship?â Mat says gently.
Chelsea rolls her eyes. âPlease. My grades have been on a downward spiral since my parents kicked me out. Even if I nailed senior year, most scholarships donât apply for kids who move out. The only way Iâm getting into an Ivy League school is if someone influential buys me in.â
âWhy would Roger have any say at Harvard?â
Her eyes search my face. âYou know nothing about him, do you?â My hackles raise, but before I can eke out a response she shakes her head. âRoger donates a crap ton of money to Harvard every year.â
âSo if he gets you in, youâll do it?â
Chelsea nods.
Great, but sheâs only one quarter of the puzzle. âHow about you, Mat?â
He shakes his head. âI think Iâm out. Now that weâve had a look at these cars . . . too much risk, not enough payoff.â
My pulse quickens. âWe canât do this without you.â
Fuck, Iâm not even convinced we can with him.
He gives me an apologetic half smile. âSomeday Iâll track down my parents and when I do, Iâve got to be better than a thug.â
âMat was adopted,â Chelsea cuts in. âHeâs been looking for his biological family ever since he left the jerk that raised himâIâd want answers too.â
I can tell by Matâs strained expression that this is important to him. Itâs a cheap bargaining chip, but Iâm borderline desperate. âWhat if Roger could help?â
Hope creeps across his face. âIâm listening.â
âHeâs got connections. Money. Unlimited resources.â The words spill out with increasing speed. âWith all of that at your fingertips, youâd be set. Right?â
A tiny spark ignites in his eyes. âGetting into adoption records is tougher than cracking the FBI database. Maybe
Caitlin Crews, Trish Morey