Page 63 of Vas

Vas gave him a brief nod. “I am.”

“Then let me show you around.”

They walked past the first three bays, Bob stopping to make introductions to the two mechanics they passed.

“As you can see, we’ve got high-quality tools. Just be sure if you bring any of your own, they are clearly labeled and you write them in the log.” He pointed to a clipboard hanging on the wall stuffed to capacity with papers.

Vas looked around the space. A line of red tool cabinets lined one wall. He walked over and opened a few drawers, they were crammed with tools. Better than he’d hoped for when he started his search this morning.

“Everything looks great and the space is perfect.”

“You want it?”

Vas nodded. “I do.”

Bob held out his hand for a shake. “Then let’s go do some paperwork.”

A half hour later, documents signed, first and last month’s rent paid, and keys in hand, Vas had a space to work. Next step, finding a bad-ass car in need of a little TLC.

The internet provided a sea of possibilities for low-cost fixer uppers. Vas jotted down the information on a few cars he was interested in then closed the browser. But before shutting down his computer completely, he pulled up the dark web and typed in the sequence to get access to his account—he had three messages. Two he dismissed out of hand. One guy looking to kill his wife and the other, someone in New Orleans, wanting a local loan shark exterminated. Both of those things he didn’t do. But the third gave him pause, and he felt his jaw lock. Sex offenders were definitely on his radar. It was then Anya’s face flashed into his mind. He quickly typed out a one sentence refusal to Maximo241 and slammed his laptop shut. Then he picked up his cell and started making phone calls to find himself a car.

After all, the devil makes work for idle hands.

∞∞∞

“What would you say if I told you I was thinking about quitting my job?” Vas asked Anya once they got into bed.

His bed.

The past couple of weeks, when she’d worked the late shift, they’d been staying at his place instead of hers. Vas had told Anya it was because it was more convenient, and while that was true, the simple fact was, he liked having her in his space. There was nothing better than walking through his door and smelling traces of her there. He liked seeing her toothbrush next to his on the bathroom counter and her shampoo in the shower. Hell, he even enjoyed getting yelled at in the middle of the night when he accidentally left the toilet seat up.

Sitting up against the headboard, Anya took her concentration away from rubbing lotion into her hands to look at him. He liked that too—her lotion sitting on the nightstand. “Well, I guess my first question would be, why?”

Vas turned onto his side, getting up on an elbow to face her. “I’m tired of traveling so much and finding I like being home more.”

She gave a small nod. “And am I the reason for that?”

He took one of her hands, bringing her knuckles to his lips and inhaled the scent of cocoa butter. “Not gonna lie, you’re the main reason. There are other factors though.”

She chewed on that a moment. “Let me ask you something without you reading anything into it.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly, not sure where she was going with that.

“Realistically speaking, in the big scheme of things, we haven’t been together very long. What happens if things between us don’t work out? Will you regret leaving your profession?”

“First of all, you and I, not being a thing, not gonna happen.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” she interjected.

“I do.” He gave her a hard stare, daring her to object again. She just rolled her eyes, which he ignored. “Second of all, if it makes you feel better,if—and that’s a big fucking if because, like I said, it’s never gonna happen—butifthings do end between us, I can always go back to it. I’m a freelance contractor. I’m not burning any bridges.”

The lines on her brow disappeared and he knew his answer put her mind at ease though her next question implied she still had doubts. “What would you do?”

“Well…” He scooted a little closer to her, tucking a few pillows under his head to get comfortable. She mimicked his actions, lying on her side so they were face to face—pillow talk. Another thing he just discovered he liked. “I’ve always wanted to restore old cars and maybe sell them to collectors. I rented some garage space close to your apartment. Figured I can do that while you’re at work or at school once classes start. If it becomes profitable, I can open my own shop.”

“I can’t say I hate the idea of you always being around. It’s scary starting your own business, but if it’s something you’ve always wanted to do, I say go for it. There’s really not much of a risk if, as you say, you can go back to your old job.”

“So you like the idea?”

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