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“So, you’re a potential threat like that big green guy in the movies? You harm people? Do you get all big and scary ripping off your clothes?”
Her reference made me laugh. That is exactly what my Gia would say.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. I am just…” I shook my head.
I did not have the right words to describe how I was feeling. All I knew was that hope had returned to my broken heart and good things were finally happening. Gia might be lost somewhere in her head, she might not remember anything about her past, but it was not dead. The woman I knew was somewhere in there and I would find her.
I glanced over and she was looking at me puzzled.
“I’m just happy I guess,” I finished lamely.
“Happy that you are a potential threat?” she busted out laughing.
“Happy you are alive…and well…and here…” I trailed off.
Silence filled the space between us as she turned her head back to staring out the window.
“For someone who does not know jackshit about me, you act like we are soulmates or something. You do realize where I just came from, right?”
I mumbled a noncommitted response. I desperately wanted to reach out and hold her hand but I knew she would probably just slap me instead so I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
We drove in silence the rest of the way, and soon wounded up at Seven’s Garage. It was a high-rise building and although people often thought it was an old fashion mechanic’s garage like the name implied, it was actually a sophisticated operation. This place was my entire life and when I was not here, I was researching the latest and greatest car engine technology.
It all kept my mind off of the revenge that festered in my soul. I know Jon wanted my help with Mayers, but I just couldn’t. I knew that if I dipped my toe into his plan, I would be fully submersed and back in the hole I had worked so hard to crawl out of. I saw the agonizing life some of my brothers had created and I refused to drink my pain away. Drugs and alcohol are rampant problems amongst my brothers from the camp. I do not know about all those guys from Boy’s Ville, but I do keep tabs on those from the camp.
When you mentioned Boy’s Ville to anyone in the general public, they dismissed it as mere rumor. Maybe they could not fathom that nasty people kept boys alive in underground bunkers to train them to be animals, or in our case little boy assassins.
When we were shipped from Boy’s Ville, we thought we had earned our freedom only to find out we were going to somewhere worse, the camp. At Boy’s Ville they beat us down, at the camp they trained us to be killers. I would much rather be beaten than forced to kill another person.
I understood Gia better than she knew. I also knew the long road of recovery ahead of her.
As I parked in the space reserved just for me, I glanced over to see the awe in her eyes.
“Seven. You, seven.”
“Welcome to my first workshop,” I said proudly. “I’ll give you a tour of the place.”
“No shit,” she said as we made our way inside.
As I started showing her around, she soon got carried away asking about each engine and how many races they had won. She told me how she and Morla used to watch the races every Saturday and compare engines. Being an engineer, Morla was fascinated with how the engines worked and taught Gianna all she knew.
“I used to see this on TV,” she exclaimed. “Never once did I ever think I would see it in real life. Oh boy!” She ran around the engine show room and pointed out the models she recognized. “All hand built?”
“Yeah, and that too…” I pointed to 7-RR40, one of the fastest models we had had in an international race so far.
Gianna had always loved this place and ran it tighter than any man I had ever met. I was not sure if it was too soon, but I was hoping that it would trigger memories and bring her back to me. I needed to know how far gone she was and watching her reactions filled my heart with so much hope.
My Gianna.
I wanted to hug her, to shake her back to herself, but I would be a hypocrite if I did not let her go at her own pace. Our last conversation kept replaying in my head, making me wonder if things would have been different if it did not end the way it did.
“Julian?” Her voice brought me back to the current moment. “What happened?” I saw the smile dying in her eyes. “Looks like you saw a ghost.”
“No…” I shook my head to clear it. “Look over there,” I pointed. “That’s the original Fletcher.”
That car held the first engine built by the late and great Mr. Fletcher, the pioneer of Seven Engines and my savior. I would not be the well-adjusted person I was today without his guidance.
