Deciding I’d end things with Leah face to face instead of over text, I headed for her place in my Maserati and parked in the garage across the street from her complex.

Me: I just parked. Coming up to get you.

Leah: You’re the only ultra-rich guy I know who prefers to park his own car instead of using a valet.

She didn’t know about my side activities or how often I washed blood from my clothes. She also didn’t know why I’d never hand my keys over to a valet: the 9mm in my glove compartment.

Me: Can we skip going out for drinks and talk?

Leah: I was hoping you’d say that. Already dressed for the occasion.

She sent me a photo of herself wearing only underwear, waiting on her bed. Maybe one more night wouldn’t hurt?

I hesitated.

Had a brief moral debate with myself.

Damn you, Hudson.

Me: We should talk.

Leah: Oh.

Leah: No need to come up. I get it.

Before I could think of an appropriate response, a flash of movement in my rearview mirror caught my eye. Because my night needed to get worse.

I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and unbuckled. It wasn’t my car they were trying to boost, so it wasn’t my problem. But when in my life had I ever been the it’s-not-my-problem-just-ignore-it type?

When their lookout man came around to the back of the Aston Martin, I realized he was only a teenager. His hood was drawn tight around his face, but it was still obvious he was young. When I opened the door, the kid startled backward and bumped into the vehicle. He quickly warned his two buddies they had company.

“You have five seconds to rethink your actions and get out of here.” I kept my tone stern and father-like as I stepped forward. I wasn’t in the mood to play a game of chicken with three teens, but I was in even less of a mood to accidentally injure one.

The other delinquents came over and flanked their lookout man. The shorter of the three decided to play with fire, flipping open a pocketknife.

I held up the only tool I had to scare them off since I didn’t plan to fight. Thumb hovering over the alarm button as if it were a trigger, I warned, “Put down that Boy Scout knife and get out of here, and I won’t sound the alarm.” With a lift of my chin, I indicated they were on camera and security guards would notice what was going on any minute.

“How about you give us the keys to your Gran Turismo, and you won’t get hurt.” The Boy Scout decided it’d be smart to step closer while lifting his knife.