Page 407 of Sin City Baby


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“You said that already.”

“Because I am,” I said.

He nodded, casting his gaze off into the distance before his eyes came down to my car.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I can fix it.”

“Are you a mechanic?” I asked.

“No. Your car’s worse off anyway. You’ll need your own money to fix it.”

My eyes fell to the damage done to my car. The taillight was busted, and the fender was bent. Very bent. Almost popping away from the body of the car kind of bent. Just what I needed on top of everything else.

“Looks like it,” I said.

“Your girl. Is she okay?”

I looked up at him before my eyes fell to Lily. She was turned around in her car seat, her eyes looking at the massive man I was talking to. Her eyes darted to me, and she grinned, sat down in her seat, and started wiggling around.

“Looks like it,” I said.

“Good. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Shouldn’t we exchange information or something?” I asked.

“Do you want to be held at fault for the accident with your insurance company?” he asked.

He had a point.

“Have a good day,” I said. “And I’m really sorry about your truck.”

“Tell your daughter to keep her feet off your seat. You could kill someone with your driving.”

I watched the man drive away in his truck. Gruff wasn’t the right word to describe him. More like brutish asshole. I shook my head, got back into the car, and buckled myself in. I looked back at Lily who had an apologetic look on her face.

“Let’s go get some ice-cream.”

CHAPTER 4

GRAHAM

What a fucking mess.

I pulled my truck into my garage and got to work. That accident made me late for my interview at the mechanic’s shop downtown. I’d been cutting through the school parking lot to avoid the pick-up traffic at the front door. Then her car came careening out of nowhere, like some bat out of hell.

I was almost surprised to see that it was my neighbor, but I wasn’t about to bring it up, and risk small talk.

I fucking hated small talk.

I shouldn’t have been such an ass hole, but it was better than trying to make friends.

Making friends was dangerous. People in my life got hurt when they associated themselves with me. Being the quiet asshole of the town and keeping my head down was a better bet than making friends and getting them killed like I had my family.

If I couldn’t protect my own family, then there was no way I could take care of anyone else.

But, I felt bad for how I reacted. I was harsh with her. Maybe a bit too hard.

She was clearly shaken, but I had already been late for my interview. Talking to her would’ve made me even later, and if someone was watching me, the last thing they needed to think was that I was making nice with someone.

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