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“What do you mean you told her…”
“I felt bad for…”
“…but free? How was that your…”
“…else was I supposed…”
The technician, I assume, responds again, his voice too low for me to hear because the next thing I hear is Priest’s voice loud enough for me to make out every single word.
“Just get your ass out there, and get the information so I can go!”
I flinch at the tone of his voice. Maybe they’re arguing about Priest admitting he stole my car. He did say earlier that his technician is an asshole, but I find it odd that any of this is his fault.
Priest claims to own the place. His name is written across the building. Stealing my car should be entirely on him. He should also be allowed to make the repair for free.
But then maybe it’s a joint ownership. Priest may be the figurehead, but his technician is the one calling the shots.
Who the hell knows.
I don’t have much time to bounce that question around in my mind because the next thing I hear is a loud clangor of metal, the bay door shutting quickly behind me.
Spinning in place, I watch the large door come down, the sunlight outside quickly replaced by the bright lighting in the shop as it slams into place with a thud of finality.
Fear douses me, my dad’s warnings whispering again, every horror movie I’ve ever seen replaying in my head along with the now absolute knowledge that something isn’t right about this place.
No, it’s not a run-down hovel with a stained mattress and a single light bulb swaying above my head, but the feel is the same.
My stomach rolls with unease, my shoulders tight when I turn back to the door to find it open.
Someone I never wanted to see again is staring back at me, a sly smile on his handsome face.
With one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, he casually crosses one ankle over the other, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his dirty blue coveralls and his hair such a mess that it looks like several sets of hands have run through it.
A smudge of dirt on his jaw grabs my attention, the small blemish fitting him like the blood and bruising had on the night of the fight.
It doesn’t make sense. Not after seeing him dressed in a tux at the governor’s party, the two sides to him making it impossible for me to know who exactly he is.
After first meeting him at the mansion, I would have sworn he was another trust fund kid like everybody in the governor’s social circle.
But after the fight, and now again here at the shop, his presence isn’t that of a stuck-up man with a silver spoon shoved up his ass.
He appears more normal than that. Someone who is just like the rest of us unfortunates who aren’t born into the wealthy lifestyle.
I scan down farther to see more smudges of dirt over the tattoos on his muscular forearms, the coveralls barely hiding his body shape.
My eyes jump back to his face, my hatred for him settling in again to see a smug look behind his blue eyes.
Was he the reason Priest knew to show up and grab my car?
Perhaps after finding me in the parking lot, he saw dollar signs and a broken-down car to steal. And maybe that’s why he’s pissed that Priest offered to do the job for free.
For all I know, this asshat was planning on ripping me off the entire time.
I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to say a word to him.
My silence only makes him smile.
“We meet again,” he finally says, a glimmer behind his eyes that pisses me off more.
