Chapter 28

Lawson

Watching her walk away was harder than I could’ve ever imagined, but she’s not ready to hear what I have to say. Hell, I’ve been practicing it all in my head since I moved here. Leave it to the gorgeous Delilah Donovan to throw a wrench into my perfectly constructed plans with her snarky attitude.

I imagined her running into my arms the second she saw me, telling me how much she missed me, and how she’s happy we can finally be together. I knew it would never happen, but daydreams and fantasies aren’t ever rational.

At the first red light I catch, I use the truck’s Bluetooth to call Jaxon.

“Hey, son,” he answers after the second ring.

“Dad,” I return.

“How’s our girl?”

I love that he extends the possession to include us both, but even more, I love that he no longer sighs happily when I call him Dad rather than Jaxon. I can still remember the day it changed. He and Rob came to my house after getting Delilah settled into her freshman dorm. It wasn’t the first time they’d flown across the country to visit, but something shifted. He gave me partial responsibility for his daughter, grateful I was here in case she needed me, so I gave him something in return.

“She’s safe. Just dropped her off at her apartment.”

“That’s great. Did she give you any trouble?” Laughter is barely masked in his tone, but I’m still flying high from seeing her after so long, I don’t complain about him sending me into the lion’s den today. Rather, I’m indebted to him once again for the opportunity.

“She hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Are you purposely lying to yourself, or just saying shit so I feel better about my daughter on the other side of the country?”

“I’m not sure. Do you want to fill me in on what you’re talking about? Would make it easier for me to make informed observations.”

She’s a spitfire, just like always, but she acted that way when we were alone back in New Mexico. She behaved differently in front of Jaxon and Rob.

A sad chuckle echoes in my ears. “I’m not spilling any secrets, but just let me say, I’m glad I was able to send you her way. Maybe things will calm down now.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he never does, so I change the subject. “I’ll make sure she gets a rental car first thing in the morning. I think she tolerated me as long as she could today.”

“Use the credit card I gave you for emergencies,” he instructs.

“Find her a new car,” Rob says in the background.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Use the card, Law.”

“I will.”

“Liar. You never do.”

“A rental car isn’t an emergency,” I mutter, having pulled up in front of the mechanic shop. Three cars I don’t recognize are now parked there. Joel is speaking with one man about a mid-sized SUV. The driver of a black BMW is nowhere to be seen, but a woman stands, leaning against the driver’s door of her red Camaro. I already know she’s trouble by the smirk she gives me as I pull my truck in and put it in park.

“Dad, I have to go. Got three customers waiting at the shop.”

“Sure thing. Let me know how tomorrow goes.”

“Will do.”

“Love you, son.”

“Have a good day.”

I hang up. I may call him Dad, but the ‘I love yous’ haven’t happened yet. I have no time to feel like an asshole this time as I climb out of my truck. My focus is on the driver I can see when a paunchy bald man walks out of the front office. I frown in his direction, irritated that no matter how many times I’ve told Joel we need to keep that door locked when we’re not in there, he still just leaves it open for everyone. He can’t get it through his head that we aren’t living in the damn fifties anymore, and the trust you had in people back then can’t be given to assholes of this day and age.

“About fucking time someone else showed up,” he hisses as he closes the distance between us.

I just stare at him.

“There’s some sort of rattling noise,” he says pointing to his car.

“Give me just a minute,” I tell the woman standing outside of her car.

“I’ll wait all day for you,” she purrs.

I chuckle. She has to be in her late fifties, but it’s clear she’s taken very good care of herself.

“Quit fucking flirting,” the bald guy hisses when I finally make it over to him. “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes, and that geezer over there doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”

“We don’t do imports.” I cross my arms over my chest, legs spread shoulder-width apart.

“Bullshit,” he sneers. “You got a fucking Toyota up on the rack.”

I don’t bother looking over my shoulder. I’m well aware that Delilah’s car is in the first bay of the shop.

“Family car,” I appease. “My insurance wouldn’t cover me if I fuck up your pretty little car. It’s newer and should still be under warranty, take it back to the dealership.”

He’s cursing me and muttering about it getting repoed since he hasn’t made the last three months payments, but I ignore him. If I had to guess, I’d bet he got fired from his job because of that nasty ass attitude he’s sporting. Tires squeal when he pulls out, but I just continue my trek across the lot to the last waiting customer. I swear I’m going to lose my shit if she asks for blinker fluid, which, oddly enough, we get on average twice a week. Always from women dressed to the nines with a coo in their voices like either Joel or I would be interested.

“How can I help you?” I ask, keeping a respectful distance between us.

“I need a full body inspection.” I cock an eyebrow at her. “I mean the emissions thing or whatever.”

“I hate to turn you away, but we ran out of stickers two days ago.”

We do more inspections than anything else. Mostly on cars that pass with flying colors, by owners who wear tons of makeup and jewelry. It’s serious craziness, especially for a shop that specializes in motorcycles and ATVs.

“Surely you can help me out.”

I grin when her pink lip juts out in a pout.

“I can’t do anything for you without a sticker, ma’am.”

A devious smirk lights her face. “Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty you can do for me.”

Ignoring her, I point down the street. “I’m pretty sure Mack’s just down the block still has some.”

“But,” she begins, but I turn away from her.

“Have a great day,” I say over my shoulder and walk toward Joel and the customer he’s been chatting with.

When I round the corner, I take in the scene. The man stands, not stiff, but also not relaxed in this environment. His MC cut stands out like a waving flag.

“Hey, Law,” Joel says when I walk up. “This is Eric Quintal. President of the Ravens Ruin MC.”

I offer my hand while he eyes me up and down, until his scarred-knuckled hand clasps mine.

“The old man here tells me you’re the best in town at keeping bikes running.” I nod because it’s the truth. “How are you with modifications?”

“Get better with each one I do.”

I take in the grime on his cut, ‘Lynch’ in bold print just above his ‘President’ patch, the old scar running down his left bicep. I’d wager that he didn’t earn the damage to his body doing recon and rescue like Cerberus.

I’m not sure I want business from this man, so I don’t elaborate.

“He’s great at paint, exhaust mods, bodywork. You name it, this kid can do it.”

I can hear the pride in his voice, but now is not the time for it. His emphatic trust in all people isn’t helping in this situation.

“I’m more interested in the body mods,” Lynch says with narrowed eyes.

“We’re booked up,” I lie.

Thankfully Joel keeps his mouth shut. We never turn business away without scheduling them on the books to ensure a greater chance of them returning.

“Check back in a couple weeks, and we may be able to get something lined up.”

“I’ll be back.” Simple words that still feel like a threat.

I don’t turn to face Joel until he’s on his bike and halfway down the block. Three other bikes pull out further down the block. Assuming they’re the vice president, sergeant at arms, and possibly the road captain, they get into formation and drive away.

“How long has he been harassing you?” I ask Joel once the sounds fade out in the distance.

“Since about ten minutes after you left.” I follow him to the stool on the far wall of the building, surprised he’s been able to stand as long as he has.

Apprenticing is what I called it when speaking with Delilah and Ivy earlier, but it’s more like point and yell. He sits on the stool and tells me shit like he’s right beside me. His knowledge is unparalleled, and his instruction is the same if he’s sitting beside me or fifteen feet across the room.

I wait for him to get settled in before speaking. “Any clue what he wanted?”

“Of course, child. I’m not an idiot.”

“So you’re well aware it’s probably illegal?”

He shakes his head as if I’m an idiot, but I can see the smile playing on his wrinkled lips.

“If you consider built-in hidden compartments for their wallets and jewelry store purchases illegal.”

He eyes me, toying with me, waiting for me to respond.

“Jewelry, right.”

He’s chuckling as I walk away. I close the door between the garage and the office and settle down in the chair. My phone is out a second later. What does any young man do when faced with potential danger? I call my dad.