Page 68 of The Ones We Fight For

“Of course, officer,” the receptionist smiled hesitantly at Roscoe and started to clack away on her keyboard, only looking up briefly at Walker. “And you?”

“And me what?” Walker grumbled.

“Are you married, too?”

Second fiddle. Nice.

“I’m… taken.” Walker awkwardly tapped his fingers against his thighs and shifted a glance at Roscoe, regretting his choice of words when he saw the smug look on his friend's face.

“Is Talia Cohen your wife? Because I really can’t give out information unless you have a warrant or you’re her husb—”

“Yep, we’re married!” Walker slipped his brother’s wedding band off his middle finger and smoothly transferred it to his ring finger, holding his hand up as proof. Hearing Roscoe cough loudly next to him, Walker slapped his friend’s back with a big smile. “This guy here was our best man! We just got married a few months ago, and I’ve never been happier!”

The girl beamed and wiggled in her seat, the idea of a wedding pulling her out of whatever nervousness she had stammered through just a moment ago. She kept typing on her keyboard, made a few mouse clicks, and pulled a sticky note from her desk, scrawling something on it before she wheeled over to the printer and grabbed a copy of the contract, no questions asked.

“Oh, she’s pretty! Even the copy of her license looks good, and that never happens!” the receptionist cooed.

“Yeah, she’s beautiful,” Walker agreed without hesitation, refusing to look at Roscoe as he accepted the contract from her outstretched hand.

She held the sticky note between her thumb and forefinger. “This has the head mechanic’s name on it. He was in charge of the car. Between you and me,” she leaned forward and dropped her voice lower, “he’s an ass. I was dating him for two whole years before he cheated on me. Wouldn’t be surprised if he cheated on other things, too.”

“That just makes me want to kick his ass more,” Walker declared, taking the sticky note and slapping it onto the front page of the contract.

“I can tell that you really love your wife. I’d be thrilled to have someone stand up like that for me. Go straight down the hallway, make a left, and he should be through the first door on your right. Give him hell,” the receptionist waved, a vengeful smile pursing her lips.

Walker started down the hallway. He caught a glimpse of Roscoe’s amusement out of the corner of his eye as they found the right door. The lie he told about his marital status proved that Walker was absolute shit at hiding how far he’d fallen with Talia, and Roscoe was living it up.

“Stop it,” Walker griped.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Let’s just stick to the game plan where you don’t beat anyone up and I don’t get involved with anything resembling police intimidation.”

“Fine.”

Throwing open the door, Walker stormed inside the covered garage in search of the head mechanic, Michael Rubio. It wasn’t hard to figure out which asshole was the right asshole considering there was a man leaning against the side of a car, blatantly staring directly at a woman’s chest while he spoke to her. Fashioned in a nice dress and heels, the object of his perversion looked to be one of the saleswomen from the main lot. She seemed completely oblivious to Rubio’s wandering eyes as she ran through some sort of a list on her clipboard with the creep.

“Classy guy,” Roscoe muttered.

“Eyes up here, bud,” Walker shouted angrily, stomping over to the pair. The saleswoman backed up, glanced down at herself, and glared at Rubio before turning on her heel to leave. Rubio just shrugged, indifferent to being caught ogling someone who didn’t want it.

“What can I help you with?” the mechanic asked dryly, without a hint of remorse. “Don’t have a lot of time today.”

“You’ll make time,” Roscoe said plainly.

“Let’s see,” Walker thumbed through Talia’s contract and found the inspection sheet, signed at the bottom by none other than the dipshit in front of him. He flipped it around to face the guy and jabbed a finger at the bottom of the page. “This your signature?”

“Could be.” Rubio took a step back, and a flash of fear appeared in his eyes, which, in turn, brought up the corners of Walker’s lips.

“Great. You’re going to fix this car that you signed off on, run a full inspection, and have two other mechanics sign off on it, free of charge,” Walker demanded.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Roscoe smiled coolly.

“Brakes shouldn’t go out if they’re inspected properly. Batteries don’t stop working after a month of use. If you did your job, her car wouldn’t break down every five fucking seconds,” Walker bit off.

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