Page 58 of Dirty Mechanic
Her eyes lift to mine. Honest. Open. “I’m not afraid. And I want that too.”
It’s the kind of moment you’d bottle, if you could. Safe. Warm. Full of promise.
Until it’s shattered.
A low engine rumbles up the drive. I move to the window.
Tow truck and Sheriff Simon’s cruiser.
And sitting beside him?
Mike fucking Bishop.
The warmth bleeds from my chest, replaced by something cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
I squeeze Annabelle’s hand. A silent promise: You’re mine. He doesn’t get to touch this life we’ve built.
“Stay inside,” I say, voice like steel on steel.
She grabs my arm. “Derek?—”
I kiss her forehead. “I got this. Please. Don’t come out until I get you.”
She nods, barely, then disappears up the stairs with Bear close behind, his big body crowding the stairwell like he knows he’s on guard duty now.
Outside, Mike’s car swings from the tow hook like a bruised ego on display. Simon looks like he’s regretting his life choices. Mike looks like he’s already picked a fight and lost it, but he’s back for round two.
I step onto the porch.
“Fields,” Simon says. “Complaint of vandalism.”
Mike waves a crumpled paper like a man holding a match to gasoline. “And a search warrant.”
I snatch the document, scan it, and let out a snort. “You misspelled the town name. There’s no apostrophe in Lords Valley. This isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”
Simon takes a look. “Not official.”
Mike shrugs, all fake innocence. “Still slashed my tires.”
I cross my arms. “Your car’s been sitting at the Motor Inn since Tuesday. George can vouch.”
“I’m not a guest. Place is full. I’m sleeping in my car.”
Simon’s eyes narrow. “That’s against town code.”
“And there’s a restraining order in place,” I say. “He’s not even supposed to be on my goddamn property.”
Mike blinks, then recovers. He steps closer, invading space he doesn’t deserve. His breath reeks of smoke and something sour.
“I know you slashed them. Replace the tires, or I start talking. About Huntz. About her.” He nods toward the house. “Think your little nurse is peeking through the curtains? Wonder if she misses the way I touched her.”
My vision whites out.
I move.
Not a punch. Not yet. But I step into his space so hard he has no choice but to backpedal.
“Try me,” I say, low and lethal.
