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Fortunately, I recover a second faster than he does. Shifting to the side, I start to head for the door and wrap my fingers around the handle. When I get it open, hope instantly fills me, only to feel his arm wrap around the front of my throat from behind.
All I can think about is dying.
My baby dying.
And Agony.
Always Agony.
So, for them—for my baby, for Agony.
I fight.
ChapterFour
AGONY
I’m tearing shit up.Seriously, this car is going to look fucking badass by the time we’re finished with it. We’ve already had three buyers come from Phoenix to see the before and during. Two are seriously interested. The third is here right now, watching me work, but he’s looking for something with a muscle car. I don’t blame him. That’s what I would want, too.
“You get something that’s more like a Camaro or Chevelle, we’ll talk,” he calls out as he moves toward the door.
“I’ll be on the lookout. You got a budget in mind?” I ask, knowing that both of those cars, good or shit shape, cost bank.
The man stops and turns around, his lips curved up into a smile. “No budget. Just badass.” With that announcement, he turns and leaves.
I watch him go, and once he’s out of the warehouse, I go back to work. I can do a Camaro or Chevelle with no budget… easy. When I’m working on a car, my focus is on that car and nothing else. The world could be burning, and I wouldn’t even fucking know a damn thing was going on.
Someone’s voice calls my name, so I turn my tools off and turn to face him. It’s Roadkill. He’s got a smirk on his face as he lifts his hands. He’s carrying two white bags, and I know they’re lunch. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there shouting my name, but judging by how annoyed he appears, it’s probably been a while.
“What the fuck time is it?” I demand.
“One. You need a break,” he calls out.
He’s right. I do. It’s been another week without Reese. Another week wondering where the fuck she is and staring at the contact in my phone with her new number, wondering if I should try to call her. I haven’t yet. But I stare at it for hours every fucking day like a lovesick fool.
Once I’ve put my shit away, I make my way to Roadkill, who has dropped the bags onto the small card table for four in the corner. I grab a chair, flip it around, and sink down, straddling it as I reach for one of the bags.
“You call her yet?” he asks.
“Nope,” I grunt as I take the burger and fries out of the bag.
I fucking love burgers. I could legit eat a burger every fucking day and never get sick of them. Same with fries. Opening the paper wrapper, I lift the double meat and double cheeseburger to my mouth and take a huge bite.
“You should try. It’s been a week. Kiplyn tried again but didn’t get an answer.”
“You worried, then?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “Well, Kiplyn is, at least.”
We don’t speak for a long moment, even though I can feel his gaze focused on mine, and I know he has something to say to me, but he stays silent. I roll my eyes to the ceiling, then look at him.
“I’ll call her. But it’s for Kiplyn’s sake.”
“Not your own?” Roadkill asks with a wink.
I shrug a shoulder. I could lie and tell him I don’t give any fucks about her, but I’m not a liar. Not usually, anyway. “Mostly for Kiplyn,” I grunt.
He lets out a guffaw, then thankfully switches the conversation to cars. I tell him about the guy with no budget who wants a sweet muscle car, something a little more traditional. We put our heads together and start to look for it nearby. Even if it’s a couple hundred miles away, I got no problem making a run to get that and bring it back.
