The Love Trap (Quicksilver Book 3) by Nicole French

Author:Nicole French [French, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Raglan Publishing
Published: 2019-10-07T18:30:00+00:00

21

The engine purred like a kitten as Brandon shifted into third gear. It was a newer acquisition, purchased sometime after Luis had arrived—a shiny blue bullet of a thing with two racing stripes down the nose.

Hello, midlife crisis. Eric smirked, hearing Jane’s pointed voice in the back of his mind. She’d commented on Brandon’s car collection, which had bloomed since he entered fatherhood, more than once.

“It’s funny,” Eric said as he admired the leather interior, “but I never really took you for a muscle car kind of guy. I think I’ve only ever seen you with a driver, actually.”

“Well, this isn’t just a car, my friend. It’s a 1970 Chevelle. A classic.”

Eric shrugged. The name meant nothing. He grew up in a city jammed with people, not automobiles. He didn’t even get his license until he was in college and needed a way to get around rural New Hampshire. “I’ve never been much for cars.”

“Spoken like a true New Yorker.”

“Hey, a lot of people in Boston don’t drive.”

“Yeah, I’m from South Boston, de Vries.” Brandon smirked and tipped his worn Red Sox hat at Eric, looking very much like someone from the rougher side of the city in a pair of worn jeans and a black fleece. “If the Sox weren’t on, we were either playing pool or working on engines.”

Eric knew for a fact that was an oversimplification. But despite being a lauded attorney and former investment guru, Brandon had also graduated from MIT by nineteen and now ran a lab with his foster father, an electric engineering professor. It shouldn’t have surprised Eric that he liked any kind of machinery, automotive or otherwise.

“My old man liked cars,” Brandon added quietly. “He taught me a few things before he got locked up. On the days he wasn’t wasted, anyway.”

Eric didn’t press. He also knew from bits and pieces over the years that Brandon had a nonexistent relationship with his biological father, a man still in jail for assault. There was a reason why he had gone to live with Ray and Susan—the people he now called his parents—at age twelve and never left. Eric knew how that felt, the need to abandon one’s previous life.

But some things from that life had stuck with Brandon, apparently.

Eric knew how that went too.

It wasn’t until Brandon exited Franklin Park that Eric realized they were closer to his friend’s past than he’d thought. The buildings around them fell further and further into disrepair as they drove away from the zoo and the golf course and drove right into the heart of Dorchester, the neighborhood where Brandon had grown up. Eric hadn’t spent a lot of time on this side of the city in all the time he’d spent in Boston. A Sox game or two at Fenway was the farthest south he’d really ventured, with the exception of a few girls’ apartments he’d visited back in his law school days.

Missing those days, Petri dish?

There she was again, teasing him. God, he wished she would call him that stupid fucking name for real.

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