“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” His dark eyes flicked to the shabby garage. A two story building made with crumbling bricks, the window frames showing signs of rot. The rusty bay doors were rolled up and tough-looking men in coveralls were either half under cars or immersed in conversations with each other while gesturing toward various vehicles. The familiarity of it comforted me.
“I’ll be fine, Frank.”
His concern was kind of sweet, but I knew his behavior was more out of his fear of Boss should anything happen to me on his watch, than actual worry for my safety. Either way, Frank’s help was unnecessary. I’d been in situations much, much worse than this. I gave him a tiny smile and climbed out of the car. When I glanced back, I noticed Frank’s sharp gaze boring into me, tracking my progress as I crossed the dusty lot to a desk wedged into a too small space in the front corner of the garage. Behind it sat a big, heavily muscled man who dwarfed the straining chair that held his bulk, a loud industrial fan blowing humid air at his back.
My cheeks grew warm as I felt every set of eyes land on me the second I set foot in the humid space.
The Sasquatch at the desk didn’t seem to notice the sudden silence or my presence in front of him. Head down, he had a phone to his ear and an invoice on his desk. He was clearly upset, arguing with whoever was on the other end about receiving the wrong part. When he hung up, he let out a long sigh and dragged his grease-stained hands down his face. He spotted me and his hands stopped halfway.
The big guy looked me up and down and his mouth fell open. He dropped his hands to his desk and cocked his head to the side while squinting. “Howdy.”
The prickle of a full-body blush made the sweaty garage even hotter. Being under the intense scrutiny of so many men at once was embarrassing. Memories of how hard I’d had to work to prove myself to the men at my old garage flooded my mind. I was as good a mechanic, or better, than more than half of them. Once my coworkers saw my work, they grudgingly accepted me as one of their own, girl or not. Winning over a whole new group would suck, but I would do whatever it took to get my life back.
You can do this, Miri.
“Hi. I’m Miriam Murphy… Miri,” I said, extending a hand across the desk.
The loud scrape of the metal chair on concrete rattled my teeth as the man stood. I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe as he towered over me, a good three inches taller than Jag, who wasn’t a short man by any means. I reminded myself that Frank was only a few yards away in the car and gathered my wits, forcing out a smile.
The man blinked in shock before his calloused hand wrapped around mine. “Beau Clayton.” After a hearty shake, he let go and gave me another once-over, one eyebrow raised. “So, what can I do fer ya, young lady?”
I curled my fingers into my palm, digging my short nails into the soft flesh to keep from chickening out. “I wanted to apply for the motorcycle mechanic job you have posted.”
This time, Beau didn’t even try to hide his surprise. His eyes widened comically and his mouth curved into a crooked grin. He was a good-looking guy, kind of like a bulky blond cowboy in coveralls instead of chaps and a backwards ball cap instead of a Stetson.
“A mechanic, huh? Little thing like you? Aren’t you afraid of breakin’ a nail or somethin’, darlin’?”
I held up my hands, making sure Beau got a good look at my short, chipped nails, dark half-moons of grease beneath each one.
“Does it look like I care about my nails?” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
Beau chuckled and gestured toward a mud-splattered, but fairly new, Honda dirt bike. “Show me what you can do. Hank here was just fixin’ to check the transmission and see what’s causin’ the owner a ton of headaches. Impress me, sweetheart, and you got yerself a job.”
* * *
Several hours later, Jag still wasn’t home. In fact, once I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t seen him since yesterday, and that was only a fleeting glance when he breezed into the house to lock himself in his study with a half dozen of his men. We didn’t have a chance to make eye contact or speak a single word before Jag vanished, surrounded by Milo and the Men in Black, deep, menacing scowls on each and every one of their faces.
They looked so angry and intimidating, chills broke out over my skin when they marched by. The way they surrounded Jag as they swooped down the hall kind of reminded me of a battalion of Stormtroopers following Darth Vader around the Death Star.
I must have conked out while waiting, because a loud bang startled me out of a deep sleep. Heart racing, it took me a minute to regain my bearings and remember I was in the front sitting room, waiting for Jag to pull into the circular drive so I could tell him the good news about my new job. Outside was pitch black and the room was bathed in shadows. It was later than I thought.
I began to lift myself off the couch when the front door slammed open and several angry voices echoed in the foyer. My stomach dropped and I hesitated at the threshold of the sitting room.
Do I go out there? Do I stay hidden in here?
One of the voices definitely belonged to Jag, and one to Milo, but the others could have been any one of the rotating Men in Black. There was only one way out of this room, and it led straight into the hall off the foyer where the commotion was ensuing. Unnerved, I was about to curl back up on the couch and wait until everyone calmed down or disappeared when Jag let out a loud, primal roar that made my pulse spike and my blood run cold. The shout was immediately followed by an ear-splitting crash.
Well, that made my decision easy.
No way could I sit idly by and listen to Jag tear up the house or get hurt in a fight. If Jag was in that much pain, I wanted to be there to help in any way I could. He had been there for me when I was at my lowest; now it was my turn to return the favor.
Without thinking, I darted into the hall, barefoot, and skidded to a stop, nearly knocking over one of the Men in Black. My heart broke at the sight of Jag, his beautiful face purple with rage, his chest and cheek pressed brutally against the wall. Milo and another man were using all of their combined strength to keep Jag pinned. Milo had Jag’s arm twisted cruelly behind his back as Jag struggled to get free. I glanced around and saw a beautiful antique curio cabinet upended, the decorative glass panels scattered across the marble floor in thousands of glittering pieces.
“Ma’am, be careful.” One of the men thrust an arm out to keep me from walking on the glass shards with my bare feet.
Jag was in such a state, he didn’t notice me step into the hall only a few yards away. Unfortunately, Milo noticed. His dark, hostile gaze landed on me and icy fear penetrated my skin, terror penetrating all the way to my bones. Even while using all his strength to subdue a thrashing and cursing Jag, Milo’s intimidating stare never left my face. Milo’s expression could only be described as absolute, raw hatred. Directed solely at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the big man’s lips curled into a nasty sneer.
“Get the fuck out of here, bitch!” Milo snapped. Spit flew from his mouth.