Page 72 of The Woman in the Garage

It was over before I could really enjoy the sensations, though, and then Santo was moving on to clean my skinned and bloody palms.

“Do you want to get it over with and tell me about it now, or wait until later?”

I wanted to purge it, get it out, give it to him. Then, maybe, I could stop thinking so much about it myself.

“I stayed late to buff the floors.” Looking down, I watched the top of his head as I spoke, trying to ignore the bite of pain in my hands as he picked little bits of dirt and who-knew-what out of the cuts there. “I’d just finished the bathroom and went back to my office to fix my makeup and grab my purse. I was heading over here.

“But when I went to open the door to my office, it shoved forward into me. Twice. The second time it happened, it hit my nose.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No. Nothing. Not even when I was running and he was chasing me. He laughed once, though.”

“Laughed at what?”

“Me trying to get away.” My belly twisted at the memory.

That little angry growl escaped him. But he managed to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Did you recognize the laugh?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t see him?” he asked, gaze flicking up to mine, stealing every thought from my mind for a moment.

“None of the lights were on. And he had a hood pulled up and cinched. And, well, I was running away from him most of the time.”

“Was there anything else that was familiar? Smells? Tattoos? Jewelry?”

“I didn’t see any jewelry or tattoos. The only smells I remember were of the garage itself. And the soap I was using to clean the floors with, I guess.” I could still smell that pine all over me—likely thanks to rolling around on the waiting room floor.

Santo paused, hands resting on my dirty, bruised knees. “I gotta ask… you were hit and chased and choked… did anything else happen? Should I stop wiping away potential DNA evidence?”

“It was… you know… heading in that direction.” My stomach flipped at the memory of my skirt hiking up, at what I knew was about to happen to me. “But that was when I managed to get into the bathroom. After that, he left.”

“Okay,” Santo said, squeezing my thighs before starting to clean my knees and shins. “Did you get any good blows in? Would he be sporting any injuries tomorrow?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“How long does it hurt to get kicked as hard as possible in the balls?”

A surprised little laugh escaped Santo at that. “I don’t think I’ve been kicked in the balls since I was a kid. But I will keep that in mind.”

“I also clawed at his hands, but I don’t know if I actually scratched him or just, like, pried at his hands.”

“Good for you. You fought like hell tonight.”

“What do I do now?” I asked.

“You let me handle it.”

“But… but what about work?”

“You’re the boss. You can take as much time off as you want. Or you can go in, see if anyone looks at you funny, or if anything about those guys sparks a memory.”

“You think it’s someone from the shop?”

“I think it’s worth looking into first. But I’m not writing off random crime either. Maybe someone saw you in there, got some evil ideas, and came in to act on them. Or maybe even some idiot thought there might be cash or something valuable around here. I’m keeping an open mind.

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