Page 22 of Cole

“If you could see flames inside the car, I’d say nice knowing you. Pull over before you actually end up broken down in the middle of the road. It’s safer,” Marcus instructed.

“Yeah, ok, I’m doing it,” I told him. I guided the car over to the side. “Now that I think about it, I might have missed my last service.”

“When were you supposed to have it?”

“Last month, maybe,” I muttered, and shut the engine off. The sound it made when I did wasn’t good at all.

“Great. Well, you’re reaping the rewards of that smart decision right now. Luckily for you, I know someone who can help. I’ll make a call.”

“Shouldn’t I call roadside assistance or something?”

“I said I know someone. I’ll call. You sit tight. If you call a regular place without any connections, they’ll make you wait for hours.”

I looked out the windows at the deep, dark woods alongside the car. I didn’t want to wait here for hours. Nope. No, thank you.

Twenty minutes later, I was rethinking my decision to take Marcus’ word for sending help, when a car appeared on the road. I watched it in my rearview as it slowed. I breathed a sigh of relief when it drove past, but my anxiety came roaring back when it pulled over in front of me.

A man got out. Nondescript, middle-aged. He ambled over to my car. I rolled my window down a crack.

“You got car trouble, Miss?”

“Looks like it.”

He watched me through the glass, then circled his finger, like he wanted me to roll the window down more. I ignored him.

“Need a hand? I could look under your hood.”

The leer in his eyes didn’t fill me with confidence that this guy was any kind of expert.

“Thanks, but I already called someone,” I told him.

He sighed, looking around. I knew what he was going to see. There was no one here.

We were alone.

“Who’d you call? They’re going to take ages. Step out of the car and let me have a look.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind waiting,” I insisted.

The guy’s smile dropped. “Look, quit yanking me around⁠—”

Then it floated to us, breaking the tension building inside my chest.

The rumble of a powerful motorcycle.

The lone rider topped the hill beyond us, and then dipped out of view again.

“That’s him. The one I’m waiting for,” I heard myself say. I wasn’t sure why I was so confident that this was Marcus’ guy, but I was. And deep down, I knew it wasn’t just some rando from the auto shop. It was the man himself. Minutes later, I was proven right.

Cole pulled off the road onto the shoulder beside me. He shut off the engine and stood, swinging his leg over the bike with practiced ease, and approaching. Good God, the man was fine. A piece of brutal, intense art.

“What’s going on?” His voice was a low rasp.

I unlocked my car door and got out.

The man who had been lingering outside stepped back. His body language immediately shifted from confident to nervous.

He looked over at me. “I was just seeing if she needed a hand.”