I grip the steering wheel. I’m not wrong about him.
Suddenly, three more men step out from inside. They’re all built from the same mold as Kilian and this man, Kade. They’re all wearing identical black leather vests, except for the mechanic. The group breaks into an explosion of man-hugs, back-slapping, shaking hands.
A motorcycle club.
My mind latches onto the thought, and it immediately becomes a synonym for gang. Criminals. Every single one of them.
My instincts have kept me safe my whole life, and right now every single one of them is screaming at me.
They’re talking. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but I can see their gestures.
My phone buzzes suddenly, and I glance down to see a notification reminding me to order stickers from Amazon. I scheduled the reminder for five-thirty, which means I’ve been sitting here for a while now. The sun’s about to set. I should probably just go home... I haven’t found anything concrete yet. But at least I know he hangs out with this Kade guy, and they’re definitely part of a gang.
I’m still looking at my phone when a low rumble shakes the ground. My gaze snaps up. They’re mounted on their bikes now, engines snarling to life one by one, and the whole group is heading out.
My heart hammers, and I slide down until I’m almost horizontal in my seat as the first motorcycle thunders past. I hope this truck I’ve park behind shields me enough. Spying is no joke.
When the last bike growls past, I let out a breath I’m holding. My hands are shaky as I fumble with the key in the ignition. Time to get out of here before anyone catches me.
I turn the key.
My car won’t start.
I try again. Click. Click. Nothing.
You’ve got to be kidding me!
I slump back in the seat, staring at the dashboard with a hollow kind of disbelief.
My car chooses this exact moment to die? Right outside a sketchy garage owned by someone who’s in a gang with the man I’m spying on?
I drag in a deep breath, letting it seep out slow, through my mouth, trying to unclench the vise around my chest. Panicking won’t start the engine.Think, Thea, think.If only I were still in my hometown, I could call my friends. They’ll be here in a heartbeat.
But here in Hillcrest... The only person who can help me right now is the mechanic I’ve been watching alongside Kilian Rutherford.
I twist my key again, just to be sure, listening to the click-click of a dead engine. Nope. Nothing. My hands drop to my lap, my gaze flicking to the garage. The universe is testing my resolve.
I should get help.
But what if the mechanic knows I’ve been watching? I swallow hard, forcing the panic down. I can’t let the what-ifs take the wheel. I’m a teacher, for heaven’s sake. I can manage this.
Stepping out, I sling my bag over my shoulder. My heart pounds with every step I take. My car just died. Out of nowhere. That’s the story I’m sticking to.
The broad-shouldered guy looks up as I approach. His face splits into a smile, and I’m caught off guard by how easy it sits on him, which is in contrast to the hulky, inked frame he has. Kindness from a man who looks like that feels like a trap, so I dare not lower my guard. Still, I plaster on a polite expression.
“Hi,” I manage, forcing the greeting out. “Um, I’m Thea. I’m new here and my car just… stopped. It won’t start. I was hoping you could take a look?”
“Kade,” he says, not missing a beat. “Where is it?”
“Parked just outside.”
He follows my gaze toward the road that leads to absolutely no other place except his garage.
“Just outside?”
“Yeah, behind the truck,” I say, and I point in the direction of my car with a hand that doesn’t feel attached to the rest of me.
“That’s a convenient spot.” He says it easy enough, but the words land in the center of my guilt. I have to remind myself that he’s a mechanic, not a detective. “Gimme a sec to grab some tools. We’ll get you sorted.”
