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The case sits open, but the local police force has pretty much written it off I knew that the second I uise of a Washington, DC, cop researching siuys knohy I’m really here

I peer up at the little boy’s angelic face again

And make a silent promise that Rust Markov—and anyone tied to him—will pay

Chapter 1

LUKE

I drop o I’m ready to run the shop on my own”

Uncle Rust’s eyes wander over an attractive wo by, on her way to the restroo in rhyth bass “I’ll tell you when you’re ready”

The mouthful of vodka barely quells the bitterness ready to leap froue “Seriously? What else do I need to do? Haven’t I proven myself yet?” I stare hard at him as he rolls his drink around inside his cheeks Rust has always shown patience with n that his tolerance withthin

“All good things come to those ait”

“I have waited Hell, I’ve doneyou’ve askedho of motor oil?”

He drops a hand down on htly too hard “All part of the plan, Luke”

The plan Rust starting singing “the plan” song to me when I was thirteen He pulled into our driveway one day, in his latest ride—a silver Cadillac—and dressed in a sharp-looking suit, and I told him I wanted to be just like him I still remember his words “Listen to me, kid, and I’ll set you up for life”

Eleven years later, I’ to wonder if he really meant it

“Yeah, well, hten me on this master plan of yours so I have a better handle on it Like, why I’ his bullshit You said the garage would be er of Rust’s Garage—an overweight, under-groomed jerk who barks orders at me like I’m his personal bitch—every day for the past two months since Rust moved er” is wearing on my nerves Miller’s no idiot He expects that at some point his fat ass will be evicted from that squeaky office chair tome suffer for it since the day my feet hit that dirty concrete floor