Oscar has never tried to fit in and has never wanted to, but when his party friend, Max, is revealed to be mafia prince, Marcus Gallagher, suddenly being a 'lone wolf' is no longer an option; not if Oscar wants to woo his prince and get out alive!
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Max took his breakfast in his dad's office at home. There wasn't much he'd been able to fill James in on that they hadn't texted about through the end of Undercover Grandma, and the first few minutes of The Snacker. But still, they had things to discuss that didn't need to be said in front of the women or Oscar...
Nor did he particularly want Oz knowing that he was currently staring down at pics of some of the punk's former "family" members on his dad's tablet. His job for the evening.
"...Yer mum says Elle's quite taken with yer friend."
"Mm," Max hummed while he chewed a piece of crisp turkey bacon.
"You trust him."
That statement was a messy one. Max's gaze flitted up from the screen to meet his dad's stern, calculating stare.
"With her, yeah... I do."
"Not with business..."
Max sighed. He knew Oz wanted into the fold. Knew the little punk would jump right in, headlong, and get hard off the thrill and danger, but Max still wasn't sure if he was ready to let him.
"Oscar...is kind of a mess rushing somewhere to happen," Max said.
His dad snorted. "His familiarity with these langers and their roles might make this one easier..."
Max set down his fork, and wiped his lips with his napkin. "I don't need easy."
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Petie parked the SUV near the end of one of the commercial docks in Commerce City. Most of the dock workers were already gone for the day, and the only security to speak of was a single patrol car sitting two docks down from them, but still well within sight. The setting sun looked like a blazing red ball floating in the choppy waves on the horizon of the bay. Rory was already there with a junker—an old Pontiac Bonneville. Ugly little thing; looked like it was dragged out of some hoarder's backyard or some lot where it had sat abandoned for a few decades.
Max got out and put his sunglasses on as he strolled up to Rory. "That thing even run?" he asked, despite the obvious sound of the engine idling.
"'Course it do," Rory said with a grin, pushing off from where he'd been leaning against the side of the rust bucket. "Enough for our purposes, anyway," he added, brandishing a brick he'd been holding down by his side. "Did you find our guy?"
