AllFreeNovel
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He looks a little wild, but not unkempt, if that makes sense. His brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, showcasing his wide blue eyes and Greco-Roman nose. His pouty lips are surrounded by a goatee and beard combo that I wouldn’t mind feeling on the inside of my thighs as he sucked me off.
His eyes meet mine and he smiles. Well, grimaces is more like it. It doesn’t look friendly, but that could be because of the slant in his eyebrows. I smile back, but don’t break my stride as I head to my car. I still have to take a shower before I head out to St. Louis. I also need—
“Excuse me,” I hear the deep, rumbling voice behind me. My steps stutter as I come to a halt and turn around. “Do you have a phone I can use? I was going to go inside, but I’d rather stand by my truck to make sure no one steals it.”
He points to an old brown beater of a truck and I quirk an eyebrow. “No offense, but I don’t think anyone would want to steal that.” I chuckle when his smile grows a bit wider. He has a tattoo on his throat that trails to the right side of his neck. I’m not close enough to read it though. Beautiful swaths of color cord around his arms, those tattoos standing out vividly, especially in a place like Reverdale, where the only people that have tattoos are some of the old army veterans. “You can borrow my phone, no problem. You mind using it here though? Don’t want anyone to steal it.” I wink at him, hoping he knows I’m joking.
Nodding, the stranger walks over to me and I have to crane my neck. He has to be at least six five if he’s an inch. Little ol’ me at five-four is thrilled with the prospect of a taller, bigger man tossing me around and railing me into the pavement. Hell, the pavement of this parking lot if he asked.
I hand him my phone and he takes two steps away from me, not breaking eye contact. I stare back shamelessly. Why not? He has to know how fucking hot he is.
With a twisted grin, he turns around and makes his call. I hear him ask for a tow. He pauses, then asks me, “What town is this?”
“Reverdale.” He repeats it and nods, answering whoever said something to him. After a few more seconds, he hangs up and hands me my phone back. “Out of gas?” I ask, being nosey.
“Nah, something wrong with the engine. I’m thinking it blew somehow.”
“Mind if I take a look?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I laugh. “I’m a mechanic. I can help if I know what I’m looking at.”
I’m not sure why, but his eyebrows turn more skeptical after I tell him I’m a mechanic. I’m not sure if it’s because of my size or my appearance—I have a bit of eyeliner on and my clothes hug my body. The jeans I have on definitely make my ass look good and plump. But he doesn’t answer, just inclines his head to his beat-up truck.
I give him a look when he can’t find the lever to pop the hood. Before I can ask if he even knows where it is, he has the thing open and smoke billows from under the hood. I drop my bags near the bed of the truck so I can have my hands free. After I fan away most of the smoke, I take a look inside. Without my tools or getting under it, I can’t tell one hundred percent what’s going on, but it smells of oil and coolant. If I had to guess, his cooling system may be leaking, a faulty water pump and probably needs some oil.
I make my assessment without my tools, lifting what I can without burning my hands and tally up a possible total in my head. With an assumption of year of this truck, he’ll probably be set back a few thousand dollars. Might be better to just junk it.
Slamming the hood closed, I wipe my hands on the napkins he hands me and then put my hands on my hips. The sexy stranger’s eyes are darting around, like he’s making sure we’re not seen. Other than Mrs. Jasper and the manager of the store, we’re alone.
Speaking of the devil, Mrs. Jasper pretends to sweep past the doors so she can peek out. No doubt seeing us on the cameras. I wave and she turns away quickly, like she got caught spying.
The stranger looks away quickly as well, meeting my eyes with a blank expression. “What does it look like under there? I’m not ashamed to admit I know fuck all about cars.”
“There are a few things, from what I can see and smell since I don’t have any machines or even my diagnostic reader to check for sure. But I can tell right off you have a bad coolant system, maybe a shitty water pump and you probably need an oil change. It’ll set you back a few thousand dollars if you want quality work. Or, ya know, buy a new ride.” He curses and puts his hands on his hips, trying to both look around and hide himself at the same time.
Weird.
He shakes his head. “Thanks. I’ll figure something out. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” I turn away and pick up my bags, heading back to my car. I wish I had gotten his name before I left, maybe see if he wanted to come to my garage for a discount. And maybe from there, I can slide him my number.
God, I need to stop being such a horn dog. Just because I see a fine-ass man that looks like he robs banks for breakfast doesn’t mean I need to slide him my number. Sy repeatedly tells me I’m a danger whore when she sees the guys I like to pick up for a good time. She’s definitely right about that. Danger makes my dick hard.
I hear footsteps behind me and I smile, thinking he might actually like what he sees. Maybe the possible bank robber likes little twink mechanics.
Then my smile falls when a barrel is pressed against my back.
In a menacing voice that’s pitched low, the handsome stranger says, “Don’t fucking scream. Walk nice and slow to your car. Don’t try anything funny.”
I nod like an idiot and try to look and walk as normally as possible. I also look to the top right of the store where the new camera was installed after the manager was mugged when he left work by some kids from out of town. I know it works because he gossips about all the shit he sees going on in his parking lot.
For this reason, I’m thankful for his diligence. Someone will see it. Someone will see that I’m being taken against my will by this hot stranger that has a body made for sin.
What the fuck am I going to do?
There’s nothing I can do but get in the car like he tells me. He makes me drop my bags and my hands shake as I take the lanyard with my keys on it from around my neck. I think about pulling off when I get behind the wheel, but this maniac is smart. He snatches my lanyard from my hand and opens the driver’s side door. I think for a minute that the gun might be fake and I can make a run for it, but I see it and know it’s very real.
My dad had one in the shop and it’s the same. A standard police issued nine-millimeter Beretta. I would know it was real if I saw it a mile away.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I start to shake, whatever adrenaline I had in those few moments disappearing. I watch my abductor round the car and slide into the passenger seat, pulling the gun out fully now.
