Page 21 of Saved By The Mechanic

Wilson’s mouth twitches, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a smile. “You’re not going to jail.”

“But I—” I hesitate, dropping my voice. “I stole the car. He left his keys in the car, and I just took it.”

“You are being charged with grand theft auto for taking the car without permission from your stepfather,” he tells me. “Jonah is willing to drop the charges under one condition.”

I know I’m not going to like what he says, but I ask anyway. “What does he want?”

“That you return home with him.” I freeze. “He says your mother has been worried sick about you. He will drop the charges if you agree to go home with him.”

My mouth opens and closes again when no words come out. I close my eyes and bury my nose in Ray’s shirt, letting his scent ground me. “I . . . No, I will not go back with him,” I tell Wilson. “I would rather go to jail.”

“I figured you would say that,” Wilson says. “One more thing. Does Ray know the car was stolen? If he knew about the theft, it makes him an accessory to the crime, and he could be charged for that.”

My eyes widen in alarm, and I shake my head frantically. “No, Ray has no idea I stole the car. He doesn’t know anything about it. I . . . I didn’t tell him anything.”

Wilson does that thing with his mouth again as if I just made a joke, but I don’t get it. “All right then, Miss Moore, let’s get you out of here.”

I watch him get to his feet, and I follow up in panic. “Like, I’m going to jail?”

“No. Let’s get you bailed out and back to my brother before he tears down the walls to this station.”

“Wait—”

Wilson stops and turns to look at me, and I fight the instinct to shrink back. God, those eyes have an emptiness to them that can only exist in someone devoid of emotion.

“Yes?”

“Uh, I don’t . . . I mean, you’re a lawyer, right? Sorry, stupid question, considering they let you in, but can I ask how much you charge for your services?”

There’s that empty, non-smile once more. “You cannot afford me, Miss Moore,” he says, walking to the door. “But lucky for you, I don’t charge family.”

I follow Wilson out, and everything else happens in a flash. By the time I am reunited with Ray, I’m more than ready to get out of here. I find him pacing outside the station with multiple cops eyeing him. He has at least three men standing between him and the station, and he looks ready to kill someone. The veins in his forehead are popping and his mouth is set in a firm line, his fists clenched as if he’s ready to punch through a wall, or preferably, my stepfather’s face if he finds him.

He doesn’t immediately notice me, so I stand there, watching the man pace like a caged animal. His hair is messy, perhaps from pulling on it. Heck, he looks like he’s the one whowas dragged out of the auto shop and into a police car and then tossed into a holding cell.

Is this what it feels like to be loved? To have someone care for you so much, they’re ready to go to war for you?

No one has shown this much care for me since my father died. Well, my mother did before she lost the love of her life.

My hot mechanic looks like he’s seconds away from murdering someone . . . for me.

The thought has me choking up, and my eyes fill up with tears. I look up and try to force them back, but they spill anyway. I swipe my cheeks with the back of my hand before looking down once more, and when I do, it’s to find Ray staring at me.

If I thought my man was livid before, it’s nothing compared to the fire burning in his eyes when they connect with mine. It takes him mere seconds to reach me, his hands cupping my cheeks and wiping the tears before he shifts his hard eyes to Wilson, who’s standing behind me.

“What happened in there?”

“I suppose what you are trying to say is thank you.”

“No, I want to know what they did to her in there. Why the fuck is she crying?”

“I’m fine,” I whisper, unwilling to be the reason the siblings fight. I wipe the tears on my cheek before turning around to face Wilson. “Thank you for getting me out.”

He nods once, and we both watch as he walks away. Ray and Wilson are so different, and if he hadn’t told me they are related, I never would have pegged them for brothers. One appears clean-cut with his tailored suit, and another is messy with oil-stained jeans and unruly hair. They are like night andday. I find that I prefer day. I like the warmth I read in Ray’s eyes.

I turn my attention to Ray, who’s watching me with concern in his eyes. “Tell me, did anyone hurt you in there?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

---