Page 194 of Repairing the Wreckage

Molly nods quickly. “I’d rather do that.”

“All right.”

I take Molly’s hand and walk her over to the door leading out of the garage. “I’ll have Remy bring me over there to pick you up later.”

Outside we stop at my car and I open the door for her. “Be careful.”

She lifts her chin. “What’re you going to do with his truck?”

Shit, one of us should’ve moved it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“All right.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” I watch her leave, then return to the garage.

The guys have our robber loaded sideways on a creeper. “Murphy’s bringing a van,” Wrath explains to me.

Wrath rips the guy’s gag off.

“Are you talking, or are we snipping?” Jigsaw asks, showing the guy the bolt cutters.

In between sobs and sniveling over his broken wrist, black eyes, and shattered ankle, he gives up the name of his boss. I don’t recognize it but Wrath’s eyes light with interest.

Outside, tires crunch over the gravel. I grab the gag and shove it back into the guy’s mouth.

“It’s probably Murphy.” Wrath jerks his head toward the door.

Remy opens one of the large, overhead garage doors and guides Murphy as he backs a plain, black van inside.

“What’s up?” Murphy steps out of the van and pulls a black knit hat over his unruly dark red hair and slips on a pair of black leather gloves.

“I’ll fill you in,” Jigsaw says.

“Can we leave the bikes here?” Wrath asks me.

“Yeah. No problem.” I lift my chin toward the parking lot. “I gotta get rid of his truck.”

“Is that piece of shit out there his?” Wrath asks. “I thought it belonged to the shop.”

“No, that’s what he came in.”

“Fuck, Griff. It’s been sittin’ out there all this time.”

“You honestly think anyone’s gonna come asking about this guy?” Remy asks.

“That’s not the point,” Wrath growls, his eyes narrowing. “You got a place you can get rid of it?”

“Yeah,” I answer slowly. “There’s a junkyard I have access to.”

“All right. You two take care of that.” Wrath slaps one hand on Remy’s shoulder and the other on mine, his firm grip demanding no argument. “We’ll take care of him.”

My jaw tightens with determination. “This is my situation. I’ll handle it.”

“Ah, so strong and yet so wrong,” Jigsaw rhymes, shaking his head at me.

It’s probably the tension of the afternoon snapping, but I burst out laughing. “What?”

Wrath’s stern expression doesn’t waver. “We need you focused on training for that fight,” he says. “Not gettin’ distracted with a side quest. Dump the truck. That’s all I need from you.”

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