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Side-eyeing me, he cocks a brow. “What are you saying? You don’t trust me to diagnose an engine when I’m half asleep?”
Instantly regretting my comment, I’m quick to reassure him.
“Not at all. I just feel bad if you had to do all the work. I’m thankful for everything you’ve done, and I hope I’m not too much of a problem.”
Priest settles back in his seat, starts the van then shifts in his seat to stare at me.
“First, don’t feel bad. Trust me, this situation is worse for you than me. Second, you are a problem, but that’s not your fault. I just have a …technician… who is a royal pain in my ass. And third, don’t thank me. I have a feeling that in an hour or so, you’re going to wish you never met me.”
Shifting his attention back to the front windshield, he throws the van in gear and pulls out of the parking lot.
Dumbfounded by what he said, I blink in confusion, finally shaking myself of it to ask what the hell he means.
“Why am I going to wish I never met you?”
A thread of nervous energy runs up my spine, and I briefly wonder if I’ll need to jump out of a moving vehicle just to escape the guy. All I can hear are my dad’s warnings running through the back of my mind, his insistence that the world is out to get me.
People are stolen all the time, never to be seen again, their fate nothing more than a whisper on the wind that no person ever hears.
I’m suddenly second-guessing the white van I just willingly locked myself into. Of all the standard abduction protocols, a white van is usually first on the list.
My hand reaches for the handle with the decision made that I’m making a jump for it at the next red light, but Priest glances my direction before that happens, a friendly smile stretching his lips.
“Because when you find out the price you’re going to pay for your car, I have a feeling you’ll hate everyone involved. Nobody likes surprise bills.”
Relief floods me, a small bark of laughter shaking my chest as I weakly smile in return.
“Oh, yeah. That. Well, that’s not your fault.”
“No,” he admits, “it’s not. But I’m still involved, you know? Just remember, I’m a nice guy and I feel bad that you’re going through this. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”
Okay, this conversation is strange. But some people aren’t the best at communicating. I’m beginning to believe Priest has spent way more time around cars and tools than he has actual people.
“Really,” I assure him, “it’s fine.”
Mumbling, he grins. “If you say so.”
By the looks of him, he’s taking my car issues worse than me. Maybe he’s in the wrong industry if other people’s misfortune affects him this way. You would think as a tow driver and mechanic, the only time he meets new people in his job is when they’re having a bad day. He should be used to this.
Letting the conversation go, I turn my eyes to the road, watching buildings pass as the sun continues to rise behind them. So lost in thought, it doesn’t occur to me that the drive is taking significantly longer than it should, my attention finally snapping back to the present when we cross a bridge into the city.
“I thought we were going to the shop?”
A quick glance my direction before his eyes are back on the road.
“We are. My shop. It’s about five minutes down the road from here.”
“Your shop?”
I check my phone history from last night. Something’s not making sense.
“I thought I called Mitchell’s Auto Shop. The woman said they were close to the feed store where you picked me up.”
That thread of nervous energy begins winding again, my voice a little too desperate for my liking.
“Is your last name Mitchell?”
Please be Mitchell…
