On the Edge by Allison van Diepen Page A

handy.”
    That made me stop and think for a minute. “Were you there any of the times Sasso’s was robbed?”
    â€œYeah, a few times.”
    â€œReally? Hope you weren’t tempted to test out your skills.”
    He scoffed. “The sight of a gun kills the temptation to use my moves. Plus, any self-respecting stickup guy knows not to get within an arm’s length of you.”
    â€œ Self-respecting stickup guy? Seems like an oxymoron to me.”
    â€œDon’t see why.” He slanted me a look. “It’s a trade like any other.”
    â€œYeah, right. Aren’t trades supposed to be legal ?”
    His mouth crooked. “Not in this city. You’ve got the drug trade. The gun trade. The sex trade.”
    â€œOkay, you got me there. But they’re not like other trades—by the time you’ve been in five years, you’re probably dead instead of a master tradesman.”
    â€œYou got me there.” He stopped at a light. His eyes drifted over me. I swallowed.
    A tight silence settled over us. The cabin of the car suddenly seemed too small. I had a flash of my dream in which we were driving together, my hair blowing in the wind, my hand on his hard, muscled thigh.
    Damn it. I shouldn’t let my mind go there. Ortiz was sexy in a way that made my insides melt, and he undoubtedly knew it. Every hot-blooded female between fourteen and forty would be attracted to him. Maybe some cougars, too.
    The point was, he could have any girl he wanted. If we hooked up, it probably wouldn’t go anywhere. And the last thing I needed was a booty call setup. Okay, so maybe I needed it, but I definitely shouldn’t go for it.
    Distracting myself, I turned to look out the window. Little bungalows and palm trees rushed by. I’d always loved my neighborhood. Not in an I want to stay here forever way but in a nostalgic way. I loved how my neighbors lived on their porches, how they all looked out for each other. Sure, I grew up knowing about the gangs, the violence, but none of it had ever touched my life. I’d always felt safe.
    Until that night.
    The moment I thought of Hector, I mentally pressed Delete. I’d taught myself to do that whenever the memory came up. Put it in a box and seal it with UPS tape and ship it off to Siberia. Compartmentalizing, Dr. Drew called it.
    I called it staying sane.
    Then I thought of Ortiz heading for another graveyard shift, and my stomach felt queasy. “I hope the graveyard shift’s worth the risk.”
    â€œIt’s fine. Quiet. I can read, listen to my iPod. But as I told your friend, it takes real stamina .”
    He winked at me, and I couldn’t help laughing.
    The tension in the car had evaporated, but my house was coming up far too fast. I pointed to the right side of the street. “It’s one eighty-six, second from the corner.”
    He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park.
    â€œThanks a lot,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt and getting out. “Have a good night.”
    â€œYou, too.”
    I shut the door on the seat belt. Classic move on my part. “Oops, sorry.” I fumbled to put it back in, then shut the door again. His face stayed neutral, but I was pretty sure he was amused.
    I hurried up to unlock my front door, not looking back until I was inside.
    His car was still there, engine running. Sign of a gentleman, I thought with a smile.

THIEF
    â€œI HAVE ANOTHER GUY FOR YOU,” Iz declared the next morning when I parked my butt beside her on the bus. “I’ll hook you up this weekend.”
    I sighed and sipped my coffee. The bus lurched, spilling the hot liquid on my jeans. This wasn’t my day. I could feel it.
    â€œIt’s okay, Iz,” I grumbled. “I’m still not over Jack.”
    â€œDon’t even joke about that. He thinks you’re a total snob, you know.”
    I caught the edge in her voice. “What? You think he’s